-------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\alls_wel ----------------------- Alls Well That Ends Well By William Shakespeare 1603 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\antony --------------------- The Tragedy Of Antony And Cleopatra By William Shakespeare 1607 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\c_errors ----------------------- The Comedy Of Errors By William Shakespeare 1593 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\complain ----------------------- A Lover's Complaint By William Shakespeare 1609 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\coriolan ----------------------- The Tragedy Of Coriolanus By William Shakespeare 1608 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\cymbelin ----------------------- Cymbeline By William Shakespeare 1609 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\hamlet --------------------- The Tragedy Of Hamlet, Prince Of Denmark By William Shakespeare 1604 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry42 ---------------------- Second Part Of King Henry Iv By William Shakespeare 1598 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry62 ---------------------- The Second Part Of King Henry The Sixth By William Shakespeare 1591 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry63 ---------------------- The Third Part Of King Henry The Sixth By William Shakespeare 1591 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry_iv ----------------------- The First Part Of King Henry The Fourth By William Shakespeare 1598 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry_v ---------------------- The Life Of King Henry The Fifth By William Shakespeare 1599 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\henry_vi ----------------------- The First Part Of Henry The Sixth By William Shakespeare 1592 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\hnryviii ----------------------- King Henry The Eighth By William Shakespeare 1611 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\j_caesar ----------------------- The Tragedy Of Julius Caesar By William Shakespeare 1599 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\kingjohn ----------------------- King John By William Shakespeare 1597 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\kinglear ----------------------- The Tragedy Of King Lear By William Shakespeare 1606 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\like_it ---------------------- As You Like It By William Shakespeare 1601 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\love_l_l ----------------------- Love's Labour's Lost By William Shakespeare 1595 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\lucrece ---------------------- The Rape Of Lucrece By William Shakespeare 1594 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\m_venice ----------------------- The Merchant Of Venice By William Shakespeare 1597 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\m_wives ---------------------- The Merry Wives Of Windsor By William Shakespeare 1601 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\macbeth ---------------------- The Tragedy Of Macbeth By William Shakespeare 1606 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\measure ---------------------- Measure For Measure By William Shakespeare 1605 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\mn_dream ----------------------- A Midsummer Night's Dream By William Shakespeare 1596 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\much_ado ----------------------- Much Ado About Nothing By William Shakespeare 1599 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\othello ---------------------- The Tragedy Of Othello, Moor Of Venice By William Shakespeare 1605 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\p_pilgrm ----------------------- The Passionate Pilgrim By William Shakespeare 1609 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\p_turtle ----------------------- The Phoenix And The Turtle By William Shakespeare 1609 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\pericles ----------------------- Pericles, Prince Of Tyre By William Shakespeare 1608 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\richard2 ----------------------- King Richard The Second By William Shakespeare 1596 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\richard3 ----------------------- King Richard Iii By William Shakespeare 1593 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\romeo_j ---------------------- The Tragedy Of Romeo And Juliet By William Shakespeare 1595 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\sonnets ---------------------- The Sonnets By William Shakespeare 1609 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\t_shrew ---------------------- The Taming Of The Shrew By William Shakespeare 1594 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\tempest ---------------------- The Tempest By William Shakespeare 1612 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\timon_at ----------------------- The Life Of Timon Of Athens By William Shakespeare 1608 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\titus_an ----------------------- The Tragedy Of Titus Andronicus By William Shakespeare 1594 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\troilus ---------------------- The History Of Troilus And Cressida By William Shakespeare 1602 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\twelfth ---------------------- Twelfth Night; Or, What You Will By William Shakespeare 1602 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\venus_ad ----------------------- Venus And Adonis By William Shakespeare 1593 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\verona --------------------- The Two Gentlemen Of Verona By William Shakespeare 1595 -------------------------------------------------------------------------- books\shakespr\winter_t ----------------------- The Winter's Tale By William Shakespeare 1611 1603 ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL by William Shakespeare Dramatis Personae KING OF FRANCE THE DUKE OF FLORENCE BERTRAM, Count of Rousillon LAFEU, an old lord PAROLLES, a follower of Bertram TWO FRENCH LORDS, serving with Bertram STEWARD, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon LAVACHE, a clown and Servant to the Countess of Rousillon A PAGE, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, mother to Bertram HELENA, a gentlewoman protected by the Countess A WIDOW OF FLORENCE. DIANA, daughter to the Widow VIOLENTA, neighbour and friend to the Widow MARIANA, neighbour and friend to the Widow Lords, Officers, Soldiers, etc., French and Florentine SCENE: Rousillon; Paris; Florence; Marseilles ACT1|SC1 ACT I. SCENE 1. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black COUNTESS. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband. BERTRAM. And I in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew; but I must attend his Majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection. LAFEU. You shall find of the King a husband, madam; you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good must of necessity hold his virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. COUNTESS. What hope is there of his Majesty's amendment? LAFEU. He hath abandon'd his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time. COUNTESS. This young gentlewoman had a father- O, that 'had,' how sad a passage 'tis!-whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretch'd so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the King's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the King's disease. LAFEU. How call'd you the man you speak of, madam? COUNTESS. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so- Gerard de Narbon. LAFEU. He was excellent indeed, madam; the King very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have liv'd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. BERTRAM. What is it, my good lord, the King languishes of? LAFEU. A fistula, my lord. BERTRAM. I heard not of it before. LAFEU. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? COUNTESS. His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity-they are virtues and traitors too. In her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness. LAFEU. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears. COUNTESS. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more, lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than to have- HELENA. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too. LAFEU. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead: excessive grief the enemy to the living. COUNTESS. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal. BERTRAM. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. LAFEU. How understand we that? COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! Thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key; be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell. My lord, 'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord, Advise him. LAFEU. He cannot want the best That shall attend his love. COUNTESS. Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram. Exit BERTRAM. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoughts be servants to you! [To HELENA] Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her. LAFEU. Farewell, pretty lady; you must hold the credit of your father. Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU HELENA. O, were that all! I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him; my imagination Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one That I should love a bright particular star And think to wed it, he is so above me. In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself: The hind that would be mated by the lion Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour; to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table-heart too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favour. But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here? Enter PAROLLES [Aside] One that goes with him. I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind; withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. PAROLLES. Save you, fair queen! HELENA. And you, monarch! PAROLLES. No. HELENA. And no. PAROLLES. Are you meditating on virginity? HELENA. Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you; let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? PAROLLES. Keep him out. HELENA. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak. Unfold to us some warlike resistance. PAROLLES. There is none. Man, setting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up. HELENA. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers-up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men? PAROLLES. Virginity being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept, it is ever lost. 'Tis too cold a companion; away with't. HELENA. I will stand for 't a little, though therefore I die a virgin. PAROLLES. There's little can be said in 't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity murders itself, and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't. Out with't. Within ten year it will make itself ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with't. HELENA. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own liking? PAROLLES. Let me see. Marry, ill to like him that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth. Off with't while 'tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion, richly suited but unsuitable; just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek. And your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French wither'd pears: it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a wither'd pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a wither'd pear. Will you anything with it? HELENA. Not my virginity yet. There shall your master have a thousand loves, A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; His humble ambition, proud humility, His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he- I know not what he shall. God send him well! The court's a learning-place, and he is one- PAROLLES. What one, i' faith? HELENA. That I wish well. 'Tis pity- PAROLLES. What's pity? HELENA. That wishing well had not a body in't Which might be felt; that we, the poorer born, Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, Might with effects of them follow our friends And show what we alone must think, which never Returns us thanks. Enter PAGE PAGE. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. Exit PAGE PAROLLES. Little Helen, farewell; if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. HELENA. Monsieur Parolles, you were born under a charitable star. PAROLLES. Under Mars, I. HELENA. I especially think, under Mars. PAROLLES. Why under Man? HELENA. The wars hath so kept you under that you must needs be born under Mars. PAROLLES. When he was predominant. HELENA. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. PAROLLES. Why think you so? HELENA. You go so much backward when you fight. PAROLLES. That's for advantage. HELENA. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: but the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well. PAROLLES. I am so full of business I cannot answer thee acutely. I will return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalize thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away. Farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends. Get thee a good husband and use him as he uses thee. So, farewell. Exit HELENA. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven. The fated sky Gives us free scope; only doth backward pull Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high, That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense, and do suppose What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The King's disease-my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. Exit ACT1|SC2 ACT I. SCENE 2. Paris. The KING'S palace Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters, and divers ATTENDANTS KING. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' ears; Have fought with equal fortune, and continue A braving war. FIRST LORD. So 'tis reported, sir. KING. Nay, 'tis most credible. We here receive it, A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria, With caution, that the Florentine will move us For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend Prejudicates the business, and would seem To have us make denial. FIRST LORD. His love and wisdom, Approv'd so to your Majesty, may plead For amplest credence. KING. He hath arm'd our answer, And Florence is denied before he comes; Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see The Tuscan service, freely have they leave To stand on either part. SECOND LORD. It well may serve A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit. KING. What's he comes here? Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES FIRST LORD. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. KING. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face; Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris. BERTRAM. My thanks and duty are your Majesty's. KING. I would I had that corporal soundness now, As when thy father and myself in friendship First tried our soldiership. He did look far Into the service of the time, and was Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long; But on us both did haggish age steal on, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me To talk of your good father. In his youth He had the wit which I can well observe To-day in our young lords; but they may jest Till their own scorn return to them unnoted Ere they can hide their levity in honour. So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, His equal had awak'd them; and his honour, Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Exception bid him speak, and at this time His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him He us'd as creatures of another place; And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, Making them proud of his humility In their poor praise he humbled. Such a man Might be a copy to these younger times; Which, followed well, would demonstrate them now But goers backward. BERTRAM. His good remembrance, sir, Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb; So in approof lives not his epitaph As in your royal speech. KING. Would I were with him! He would always say- Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them To grow there, and to bear- 'Let me not live'- This his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, When it was out-'Let me not live' quoth he 'After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses All but new things disdain; whose judgments are Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies Expire before their fashions.' This he wish'd. I, after him, do after him wish too, Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home, I quickly were dissolved from my hive, To give some labourers room. SECOND LORD. You're loved, sir; They that least lend it you shall lack you first. KING. I fill a place, I know't. How long is't, Count, Since the physician at your father's died? He was much fam'd. BERTRAM. Some six months since, my lord. KING. If he were living, I would try him yet- Lend me an arm-the rest have worn me out With several applications. Nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, Count; My son's no dearer. BERTRAM. Thank your Majesty. Exeunt [Flourish] ACT1|SC3 ACT I. SCENE 3. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter COUNTESS, STEWARD, and CLOWN COUNTESS. I will now hear; what say you of this gentlewoman? STEWARD. Madam, the care I have had to even your content I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours; for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them. COUNTESS. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah. The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness that I do not, for I know you lack not folly to commit them and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours. CLOWN. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow. COUNTESS. Well, sir. CLOWN. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor, though many of the rich are damn'd; but if I may have your ladyship's good will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. COUNTESS. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? CLOWN. I do beg your good will in this case. COUNTESS. In what case? CLOWN. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no heritage; and I think I shall never have the blessing of God till I have issue o' my body; for they say bames are blessings. COUNTESS. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. CLOWN. My poor body, madam, requires it. I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives. COUNTESS. Is this all your worship's reason? CLOWN. Faith, madam, I have other holy reasons, such as they are. COUNTESS. May the world know them? CLOWN. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent. COUNTESS. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wickedness. CLOWN. I am out o' friends, madam, and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake. COUNTESS. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. CLOWN. Y'are shallow, madam-in great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am aweary of. He that ears my land spares my team, and gives me leave to in the crop. If I be his cuckold, he's my drudge. He that comforts my wife is the cherisher of my flesh and blood; he that cherishes my flesh and blood loves my flesh and blood; he that loves my flesh and blood is my friend; ergo, he that kisses my wife is my friend. If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage; for young Charbon the puritan and old Poysam the papist, howsome'er their hearts are sever'd in religion, their heads are both one; they may jowl horns together like any deer i' th' herd. COUNTESS. Wilt thou ever be a foul-mouth'd and calumnious knave? CLOWN. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the truth the next way: For I the ballad will repeat, Which men full true shall find: Your marriage comes by destiny, Your cuckoo sings by kind. COUNTESS. Get you gone, sir; I'll talk with you more anon. STEWARD. May it please you, madam, that he bid Helen come to you. Of her I am to speak. COUNTESS. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her; Helen I mean. CLOWN. [Sings] 'Was this fair face the cause' quoth she 'Why the Grecians sacked Troy? Fond done, done fond, Was this King Priam's joy?' With that she sighed as she stood, With that she sighed as she stood, And gave this sentence then: 'Among nine bad if one be good, Among nine bad if one be good, There's yet one good in ten.' COUNTESS. What, one good in ten? You corrupt the song, sirrah. CLOWN. One good woman in ten, madam, which is a purifying o' th' song. Would God would serve the world so all the year! We'd find no fault with the tithe-woman, if I were the parson. One in ten, quoth 'a! An we might have a good woman born before every blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the lottery well: a man may draw his heart out ere 'a pluck one. COUNTESS. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do as I command you. CLOWN. That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done! Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart. I am going, forsooth. The business is for Helen to come hither. Exit COUNTESS. Well, now. STEWARD. I know, madam, you love your gentlewoman entirely. COUNTESS. Faith I do. Her father bequeath'd her to me; and she herself, without other advantage, may lawfully make title to as much love as she finds. There is more owing her than is paid; and more shall be paid her than she'll demand. STEWARD. Madam, I was very late more near her than I think she wish'd me. Alone she was, and did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears; she thought, I dare vow for her, they touch'd not any stranger sense. Her matter was, she loved your son. Fortune, she said, was no goddess, that had put such difference betwixt their two estates; Love no god, that would not extend his might only where qualities were level; Diana no queen of virgins, that would suffer her poor knight surpris'd without rescue in the first assault, or ransom afterward. This she deliver'd in the most bitter touch of sorrow that e'er I heard virgin exclaim in; which I held my duty speedily to acquaint you withal; sithence, in the loss that may happen, it concerns you something to know it. COUNTESS. YOU have discharg'd this honestly; keep it to yourself. Many likelihoods inform'd me of this before, which hung so tott'ring in the balance that I could neither believe nor misdoubt. Pray you leave me. Stall this in your bosom; and I thank you for your honest care. I will speak with you further anon. Exit STEWARD Enter HELENA Even so it was with me when I was young. If ever we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong; Our blood to us, this to our blood is born. It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth. By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults, or then we thought them none. Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now. HELENA. What is your pleasure, madam? COUNTESS. You know, Helen, I am a mother to you. HELENA. Mine honourable mistress. COUNTESS. Nay, a mother. Why not a mother? When I said 'a mother,' Methought you saw a serpent. What's in 'mother' That you start at it? I say I am your mother, And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine. 'Tis often seen Adoption strives with nature, and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign seeds. You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan, Yet I express to you a mother's care. God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood To say I am thy mother? What's the matter, That this distempered messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye? Why, that you are my daughter? HELENA. That I am not. COUNTESS. I say I am your mother. HELENA. Pardon, madam. The Count Rousillon cannot be my brother: I am from humble, he from honoured name; No note upon my parents, his all noble. My master, my dear lord he is; and I His servant live, and will his vassal die. He must not be my brother. COUNTESS. Nor I your mother? HELENA. You are my mother, madam; would you were- So that my lord your son were not my brother- Indeed my mother! Or were you both our mothers, I care no more for than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister. Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNTESS. Yes, Helen, you might be my daughter-in-law. God shield you mean it not! 'daughter' and 'mother' So strive upon your pulse. What! pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness. Now I see The myst'ry of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis gross You love my son; invention is asham'd, Against the proclamation of thy passion, To say thou dost not. Therefore tell me true; But tell me then, 'tis so; for, look, thy cheeks Confess it, th' one to th' other; and thine eyes See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours That in their kind they speak it; only sin And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue, That truth should be suspected. Speak, is't so? If it be so, you have wound a goodly clew; If it be not, forswear't; howe'er, I charge thee, As heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly. HELENA. Good madam, pardon me. COUNTESS. Do you love my son? HELENA. Your pardon, noble mistress. COUNTESS. Love you my son? HELENA. Do not you love him, madam? COUNTESS. Go not about; my love hath in't a bond Whereof the world takes note. Come, come, disclose The state of your affection; for your passions Have to the full appeach'd. HELENA. Then I confess, Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, That before you, and next unto high heaven, I love your son. My friends were poor, but honest; so's my love. Be not offended, for it hurts not him That he is lov'd of me; I follow him not By any token of presumptuous suit, Nor would I have him till I do deserve him; Yet never know how that desert should be. I know I love in vain, strive against hope; Yet in this captious and intenible sieve I still pour in the waters of my love, And lack not to lose still. Thus, Indian-like, Religious in mine error, I adore The sun that looks upon his worshipper But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, Let not your hate encounter with my love, For loving where you do; but if yourself, Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, Did ever in so true a flame of liking Wish chastely and love dearly that your Dian Was both herself and Love; O, then, give pity To her whose state is such that cannot choose But lend and give where she is sure to lose; That seeks not to find that her search implies, But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies! COUNTESS. Had you not lately an intent-speak truly- To go to Paris? HELENA. Madam, I had. COUNTESS. Wherefore? Tell true. HELENA. I will tell truth; by grace itself I swear. You know my father left me some prescriptions Of rare and prov'd effects, such as his reading And manifest experience had collected For general sovereignty; and that he will'd me In heedfull'st reservation to bestow them, As notes whose faculties inclusive were More than they were in note. Amongst the rest There is a remedy, approv'd, set down, To cure the desperate languishings whereof The King is render'd lost. COUNTESS. This was your motive For Paris, was it? Speak. HELENA. My lord your son made me to think of this, Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King, Had from the conversation of my thoughts Haply been absent then. COUNTESS. But think you, Helen, If you should tender your supposed aid, He would receive it? He and his physicians Are of a mind: he, that they cannot help him; They, that they cannot help. How shall they credit A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, Embowell'd of their doctrine, have let off The danger to itself? HELENA. There's something in't More than my father's skill, which was the great'st Of his profession, that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be sanctified By th' luckiest stars in heaven; and, would your honour But give me leave to try success, I'd venture The well-lost life of mine on his Grace's cure. By such a day and hour. COUNTESS. Dost thou believe't? HELENA. Ay, madam, knowingly. COUNTESS. Why, Helen, thou shalt have my leave and love, Means and attendants, and my loving greetings To those of mine in court. I'll stay at home, And pray God's blessing into thy attempt. Be gone to-morrow; and be sure of this, What I can help thee to thou shalt not miss. Exeunt ACT2|SC1 ACT II. SCENE 1. Paris. The KING'S palace Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING with divers young LORDS taking leave for the Florentine war; BERTRAM and PAROLLES; ATTENDANTS KING. Farewell, young lords; these war-like principles Do not throw from you. And you, my lords, farewell; Share the advice betwixt you; if both gain all, The gift doth stretch itself as 'tis receiv'd, And is enough for both. FIRST LORD. 'Tis our hope, sir, After well-ent'red soldiers, to return And find your Grace in health. KING. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart Will not confess he owes the malady That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young lords; Whether I live or die, be you the sons Of worthy Frenchmen; let higher Italy- Those bated that inherit but the fall Of the last monarchy-see that you come Not to woo honour, but to wed it; when The bravest questant shrinks, find what you seek, That fame may cry you aloud. I say farewell. SECOND LORD. Health, at your bidding, serve your Majesty! KING. Those girls of Italy, take heed of them; They say our French lack language to deny, If they demand; beware of being captives Before you serve. BOTH. Our hearts receive your warnings. KING. Farewell. [To ATTENDANTS] Come hither to me. The KING retires attended FIRST LORD. O my sweet lord, that you will stay behind us! PAROLLES. 'Tis not his fault, the spark. SECOND LORD. O, 'tis brave wars! PAROLLES. Most admirable! I have seen those wars. BERTRAM. I am commanded here and kept a coil with 'Too young' and next year' and "Tis too early.' PAROLLES. An thy mind stand to 't, boy, steal away bravely. BERTRAM. I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock, Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry, Till honour be bought up, and no sword worn But one to dance with. By heaven, I'll steal away. FIRST LORD. There's honour in the theft. PAROLLES. Commit it, Count. SECOND LORD. I am your accessary; and so farewell. BERTRAM. I grow to you, and our parting is a tortur'd body. FIRST LORD. Farewell, Captain. SECOND LORD. Sweet Monsieur Parolles! PAROLLES. Noble heroes, my sword and yours are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, good metals: you shall find in the regiment of the Spinii one Captain Spurio, with his cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his sinister cheek; it was this very sword entrench'd it. Say to him I live; and observe his reports for me. FIRST LORD. We shall, noble Captain. PAROLLES. Mars dote on you for his novices! Exeunt LORDS What will ye do? Re-enter the KING BERTRAM. Stay; the King! PAROLLES. Use a more spacious ceremony to the noble lords; you have restrain'd yourself within the list of too cold an adieu. Be more expressive to them; for they wear themselves in the cap of the time; there do muster true gait; eat, speak, and move, under the influence of the most receiv'd star; and though the devil lead the measure, such are to be followed. After them, and take a more dilated farewell. BERTRAM. And I will do so. PAROLLES. Worthy fellows; and like to prove most sinewy sword-men. Exeunt BERTRAM and PAROLLES Enter LAFEU LAFEU. [Kneeling] Pardon, my lord, for me and for my tidings. KING. I'll fee thee to stand up. LAFEU. Then here's a man stands that has brought his pardon. I would you had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; And that at my bidding you could so stand up. KING. I would I had; so I had broke thy pate, And ask'd thee mercy for't. LAFEU. Good faith, across! But, my good lord, 'tis thus: will you be cur'd Of your infirmity? KING. No. LAFEU. O, will you eat No grapes, my royal fox? Yes, but you will My noble grapes, an if my royal fox Could reach them: I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch Is powerful to araise King Pepin, nay, To give great Charlemain a pen in's hand And write to her a love-line. KING. What her is this? LAFEU. Why, Doctor She! My lord, there's one arriv'd, If you will see her. Now, by my faith and honour, If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance, I have spoke With one that in her sex, her years, profession, Wisdom, and constancy, hath amaz'd me more Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you see her, For that is her demand, and know her business? That done, laugh well at me. KING. Now, good Lafeu, Bring in the admiration, that we with the May spend our wonder too, or take off thine By wond'ring how thou took'st it. LAFEU. Nay, I'll fit you, And not be all day neither. Exit LAFEU KING. Thus he his special nothing ever prologues. Re-enter LAFEU with HELENA LAFEU. Nay, come your ways. KING. This haste hath wings indeed. LAFEU. Nay, come your ways; This is his Majesty; say your mind to him. A traitor you do look like; but such traitors His Majesty seldom fears. I am Cressid's uncle, That dare leave two together. Fare you well. Exit KING. Now, fair one, does your business follow us? HELENA. Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon was my father, In what he did profess, well found. KING. I knew him. HELENA. The rather will I spare my praises towards him; Knowing him is enough. On's bed of death Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, And of his old experience th' only darling, He bade me store up as a triple eye, Safer than mine own two, more dear. I have so: And, hearing your high Majesty is touch'd With that malignant cause wherein the honour Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, I come to tender it, and my appliance, With all bound humbleness. KING. We thank you, maiden; But may not be so credulous of cure, When our most learned doctors leave us, and The congregated college have concluded That labouring art can never ransom nature From her inaidable estate-I say we must not So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, To prostitute our past-cure malady To empirics; or to dissever so Our great self and our credit to esteem A senseless help, when help past sense we deem. HELENA. My duty then shall pay me for my pains. I will no more enforce mine office on you; Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts A modest one to bear me back again. KING. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd grateful. Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks I give As one near death to those that wish him live. But what at full I know, thou know'st no part; I knowing all my peril, thou no art. HELENA. What I can do can do no hurt to try, Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy. He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister. So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied. Oft expectation fails, and most oft there Where most it promises; and oft it hits Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits. KING. I must not hear thee. Fare thee well, kind maid; Thy pains, not us'd, must by thyself be paid; Proffers not took reap thanks for their reward. HELENA. Inspired merit so by breath is barr'd. It is not so with Him that all things knows, As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows; But most it is presumption in us when The help of heaven we count the act of men. Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. I am not an impostor, that proclaim Myself against the level of mine aim; But know I think, and think I know most sure, My art is not past power nor you past cure. KING. Art thou so confident? Within what space Hop'st thou my cure? HELENA. The greatest Grace lending grace. Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring, Ere twice in murk and occidental damp Moist Hesperus hath quench'd his sleepy lamp, Or four and twenty times the pilot's glass Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass, What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly, Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. KING. Upon thy certainty and confidence What dar'st thou venture? HELENA. Tax of impudence, A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, Traduc'd by odious ballads; my maiden's name Sear'd otherwise; ne worse of worst-extended With vilest torture let my life be ended. KING. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerful sound within an organ weak; And what impossibility would slay In common sense, sense saves another way. Thy life is dear; for all that life can rate Worth name of life in thee hath estimate: Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, all That happiness and prime can happy call. Thou this to hazard needs must intimate Skill infinite or monstrous desperate. Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try, That ministers thine own death if I die. HELENA. If I break time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die; And well deserv'd. Not helping, death's my fee; But, if I help, what do you promise me? KING. Make thy demand. HELENA. But will you make it even? KING. Ay, by my sceptre and my hopes of heaven. HELENA. Then shalt thou give me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command. Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royal blood of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state; But such a one, thy vassal, whom I know Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. KING. Here is my hand; the premises observ'd, Thy will by my performance shall be serv'd. So make the choice of thy own time, for I, Thy resolv'd patient, on thee still rely. More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know could not be more to trust, From whence thou cam'st, how tended on. But rest Unquestion'd welcome and undoubted blest. Give me some help here, ho! If thou proceed As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed. [Flourish. Exeunt] ACT2|SC2 ACT II. SCENE 2. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN COUNTESS. Come on, sir; I shall now put you to the height of your breeding. CLOWN. I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. I know my business is but to the court. COUNTESS. To the court! Why, what place make you special, when you put off that with such contempt? But to the court! CLOWN. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man any manners, he may easily put it off at court. He that cannot make a leg, put off's cap, kiss his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, hands, lip, nor cap; and indeed such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the court; but for me, I have an answer will serve all men. COUNTESS. Marry, that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions. CLOWN. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all buttocks-the pin buttock, the quatch buttock, the brawn buttock, or any buttock. COUNTESS. Will your answer serve fit to all questions? CLOWN. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an attorney, as your French crown for your taffety punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's forefinger, as a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for Mayday, as the nail to his hole, the cuckold to his horn, as a scolding quean to a wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's mouth; nay, as the pudding to his skin. COUNTESS. Have you, I, say, an answer of such fitness for all questions? CLOWN. From below your duke to beneath your constable, it will fit any question. COUNTESS. It must be an answer of most monstrous size that must fit all demands. CLOWN. But a trifle neither, in good faith, if the learned should speak truth of it. Here it is, and all that belongs to't. Ask me if I am a courtier: it shall do you no harm to learn. COUNTESS. To be young again, if we could, I will be a fool in question, hoping to be the wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are you a courtier? CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-There's a simple putting off. More, more, a hundred of them. COUNTESS. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, that loves you. CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Thick, thick; spare not me. COUNTESS. I think, sir, you can eat none of this homely meat. CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Nay, put me to't, I warrant you. COUNTESS. You were lately whipp'd, sir, as I think. CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Spare not me. COUNTESS. Do you cry 'O Lord, sir!' at your whipping, and 'spare not me'? Indeed your 'O Lord, sir!' is very sequent to your whipping. You would answer very well to a whipping, if you were but bound to't. CLOWN. I ne'er had worse luck in my life in my 'O Lord, sir!' I see thing's may serve long, but not serve ever. COUNTESS. I play the noble housewife with the time, To entertain it so merrily with a fool. CLOWN. O Lord, sir!-Why, there't serves well again. COUNTESS. An end, sir! To your business: give Helen this, And urge her to a present answer back; Commend me to my kinsmen and my son. This is not much. CLOWN. Not much commendation to them? COUNTESS. Not much employment for you. You understand me? CLOWN. Most fruitfully; I am there before my legs. COUNTESS. Haste you again. Exeunt ACT2|SC3 ACT II. SCENE 3. Paris. The KING'S palace Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES LAFEU. They say miracles are past; and we have our philosophical persons to make modern and familiar things supernatural and causeless. Hence is it that we make trifles of terrors, ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge when we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear. PAROLLES. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of wonder that hath shot out in our latter times. BERTRAM. And so 'tis. LAFEU. To be relinquish'd of the artists- PAROLLES. So I say-both of Galen and Paracelsus. LAFEU. Of all the learned and authentic fellows- PAROLLES. Right; so I say. LAFEU. That gave him out incurable- PAROLLES. Why, there 'tis; so say I too. LAFEU. Not to be help'd- PAROLLES. Right; as 'twere a man assur'd of a- LAFEU. Uncertain life and sure death. PAROLLES. Just; you say well; so would I have said. LAFEU. I may truly say it is a novelty to the world. PAROLLES. It is indeed. If you will have it in showing, you shall read it in what-do-ye-call't here. LAFEU. [Reading the ballad title] 'A Showing of a Heavenly Effect in an Earthly Actor.' PAROLLES. That's it; I would have said the very same. LAFEU. Why, your dolphin is not lustier. 'Fore me, I speak in respect- PAROLLES. Nay, 'tis strange, 'tis very strange; that is the brief and the tedious of it; and he's of a most facinerious spirit that will not acknowledge it to be the- LAFEU. Very hand of heaven. PAROLLES. Ay; so I say. LAFEU. In a most weak- PAROLLES. And debile minister, great power, great transcendence; which should, indeed, give us a further use to be made than alone the recov'ry of the King, as to be- LAFEU. Generally thankful. Enter KING, HELENA, and ATTENDANTS PAROLLES. I would have said it; you say well. Here comes the King. LAFEU. Lustig, as the Dutchman says. I'll like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooth in my head. Why, he's able to lead her a coranto. PAROLLES. Mort du vinaigre! Is not this Helen? LAFEU. 'Fore God, I think so. KING. Go, call before me all the lords in court. Exit an ATTENDANT Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side; And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd sense Thou has repeal'd, a second time receive The confirmation of my promis'd gift, Which but attends thy naming. Enter three or four LORDS Fair maid, send forth thine eye. This youthful parcel Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing, O'er whom both sovereign power and father's voice I have to use. Thy frank election make; Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake. HELENA. To each of you one fair and virtuous mistress Fall, when love please. Marry, to each but one! LAFEU. I'd give bay Curtal and his furniture My mouth no more were broken than these boys', And writ as little beard. KING. Peruse them well. Not one of those but had a noble father. HELENA. Gentlemen, Heaven hath through me restor'd the King to health. ALL. We understand it, and thank heaven for you. HELENA. I am a simple maid, and therein wealthiest That I protest I simply am a maid. Please it your Majesty, I have done already. The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper me: 'We blush that thou shouldst choose; but, be refused, Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever, We'll ne'er come there again.' KING. Make choice and see: Who shuns thy love shuns all his love in me. HELENA. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly, And to imperial Love, that god most high, Do my sighs stream. Sir, will you hear my suit? FIRST LORD. And grant it. HELENA. Thanks, sir; all the rest is mute. LAFEU. I had rather be in this choice than throw ames-ace for my life. HELENA. The honour, sir, that flames in your fair eyes, Before I speak, too threat'ningly replies. Love make your fortunes twenty times above Her that so wishes, and her humble love! SECOND LORD. No better, if you please. HELENA. My wish receive, Which great Love grant; and so I take my leave. LAFEU. Do all they deny her? An they were sons of mine I'd have them whipt; or I would send them to th' Turk to make eunuchs of. HELENA. Be not afraid that I your hand should take; I'll never do you wrong for your own sake. Blessing upon your vows; and in your bed Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed! LAFEU. These boys are boys of ice; they'll none have her. Sure, they are bastards to the English; the French ne'er got 'em. HELENA. You are too young, too happy, and too good, To make yourself a son out of my blood. FOURTH LORD. Fair one, I think not so. LAFEU. There's one grape yet; I am sure thy father drunk wine-but if thou be'st not an ass, I am a youth of fourteen; I have known thee already. HELENA. [To BERTRAM] I dare not say I take you; but I give Me and my service, ever whilst I live, Into your guiding power. This is the man. KING. Why, then, young Bertram, take her; she's thy wife. BERTRAM. My wife, my liege! I shall beseech your Highness, In such a business give me leave to use The help of mine own eyes. KING. Know'st thou not, Bertram, What she has done for me? BERTRAM. Yes, my good lord; But never hope to know why I should marry her. KING. Thou know'st she has rais'd me from my sickly bed. BERTRAM. But follows it, my lord, to bring me down Must answer for your raising? I know her well: She had her breeding at my father's charge. A poor physician's daughter my wife! Disdain Rather corrupt me ever! KING. 'Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty. If she be All that is virtuous-save what thou dislik'st, A poor physician's daughter-thou dislik'st Of virtue for the name; but do not so. From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed; Where great additions swell's, and virtue none, It is a dropsied honour. Good alone Is good without a name. Vileness is so: The property by what it is should go, Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; In these to nature she's immediate heir; And these breed honour. That is honour's scorn Which challenges itself as honour's born And is not like the sire. Honours thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our fore-goers. The mere word's a slave, Debauch'd on every tomb, on every grave A lying trophy; and as oft is dumb Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb Of honour'd bones indeed. What should be said? If thou canst like this creature as a maid, I can create the rest. Virtue and she Is her own dower; honour and wealth from me. BERTRAM. I cannot love her, nor will strive to do 't. KING. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou shouldst strive to choose. HELENA. That you are well restor'd, my lord, I'm glad. Let the rest go. KING. My honour's at the stake; which to defeat, I must produce my power. Here, take her hand, Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift, That dost in vile misprision shackle up My love and her desert; that canst not dream We, poising us in her defective scale, Shall weigh thee to the beam; that wilt not know It is in us to plant thine honour where We please to have it grow. Check thy contempt; Obey our will, which travails in thy good; Believe not thy disdain, but presently Do thine own fortunes that obedient right Which both thy duty owes and our power claims; Or I will throw thee from my care for ever Into the staggers and the careless lapse Of youth and ignorance; both my revenge and hate Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, Without all terms of pity. Speak; thine answer. BERTRAM. Pardon, my gracious lord; for I submit My fancy to your eyes. When I consider What great creation and what dole of honour Flies where you bid it, I find that she which late Was in my nobler thoughts most base is now The praised of the King; who, so ennobled, Is as 'twere born so. KING. Take her by the hand, And tell her she is thine; to whom I promise A counterpoise, if not to thy estate A balance more replete. BERTRAM. I take her hand. KING. Good fortune and the favour of the King Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief, And be perform'd to-night. The solemn feast Shall more attend upon the coming space, Expecting absent friends. As thou lov'st her, Thy love's to me religious; else, does err. Exeunt all but LAFEU and PAROLLES who stay behind, commenting of this wedding LAFEU. Do you hear, monsieur? A word with you. PAROLLES. Your pleasure, sir? LAFEU. Your lord and master did well to make his recantation. PAROLLES. Recantation! My Lord! my master! LAFEU. Ay; is it not a language I speak? PAROLLES. A most harsh one, and not to be understood without bloody succeeding. My master! LAFEU. Are you companion to the Count Rousillon? PAROLLES. To any count; to all counts; to what is man. LAFEU. To what is count's man: count's master is of another style. PAROLLES. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy you, you are too old. LAFEU. I must tell thee, sirrah, I write man; to which title age cannot bring thee. PAROLLES. What I dare too well do, I dare not do. LAFEU. I did think thee, for two ordinaries, to be a pretty wise fellow; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel; it might pass. Yet the scarfs and the bannerets about thee did manifoldly dissuade me from believing thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have now found thee; when I lose thee again I care not; yet art thou good for nothing but taking up; and that thou'rt scarce worth. PAROLLES. Hadst thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee- LAFEU. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial; which if-Lord have mercy on thee for a hen! So, my good window of lattice, fare thee well; thy casement I need not open, for I look through thee. Give me thy hand. PAROLLES. My lord, you give me most egregious indignity. LAFEU. Ay, with all my heart; and thou art worthy of it. PAROLLES. I have not, my lord, deserv'd it. LAFEU. Yes, good faith, ev'ry dram of it; and I will not bate thee a scruple. PAROLLES. Well, I shall be wiser. LAFEU. Ev'n as soon as thou canst, for thou hast to pull at a smack o' th' contrary. If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage. I have a desire to hold my acquaintance with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I may say in the default 'He is a man I know.' PAROLLES. My lord, you do me most insupportable vexation. LAFEU. I would it were hell pains for thy sake, and my poor doing eternal; for doing I am past, as I will by thee, in what motion age will give me leave. Exit PAROLLES. Well, thou hast a son shall take this disgrace off me: scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy lord! Well, I must be patient; there is no fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my life, if I can meet him with any convenience, an he were double and double a lord. I'll have no more pity of his age than I would have of- I'll beat him, and if I could but meet him again. Re-enter LAFEU LAFEU. Sirrah, your lord and master's married; there's news for you; you have a new mistress. PAROLLES. I most unfeignedly beseech your lordship to make some reservation of your wrongs. He is my good lord: whom I serve above is my master. LAFEU. Who? God? PAROLLES. Ay, sir. LAFEU. The devil it is that's thy master. Why dost thou garter up thy arms o' this fashion? Dost make hose of thy sleeves? Do other servants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee. Methink'st thou art a general offence, and every man should beat thee. I think thou wast created for men to breathe themselves upon thee. PAROLLES. This is hard and undeserved measure, my lord. LAFEU. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy for picking a kernel out of a pomegranate; you are a vagabond, and no true traveller; you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the commission of your birth and virtue gives you heraldry. You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave. I leave you. Exit Enter BERTRAM PAROLLES. Good, very, good, it is so then. Good, very good; let it be conceal'd awhile. BERTRAM. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever! PAROLLES. What's the matter, sweetheart? BERTRAM. Although before the solemn priest I have sworn, I will not bed her. PAROLLES. What, what, sweetheart? BERTRAM. O my Parolles, they have married me! I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. PAROLLES. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits The tread of a man's foot. To th' wars! BERTRAM. There's letters from my mother; what th' import is I know not yet. PAROLLES. Ay, that would be known. To th' wars, my boy, to th' wars! He wears his honour in a box unseen That hugs his kicky-wicky here at home, Spending his manly marrow in her arms, Which should sustain the bound and high curvet Of Mars's fiery steed. To other regions! France is a stable; we that dwell in't jades; Therefore, to th' war! BERTRAM. It shall be so; I'll send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled; write to the King That which I durst not speak. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellows strike. War is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife. PAROLLES. Will this capriccio hold in thee, art sure? BERTRAM. Go with me to my chamber and advise me. I'll send her straight away. To-morrow I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. PAROLLES. Why, these balls bound; there's noise in it. 'Tis hard: A young man married is a man that's marr'd. Therefore away, and leave her bravely; go. The King has done you wrong; but, hush, 'tis so. Exeunt ACT2|SC4 ACT II. SCENE 4. Paris. The KING'S palace Enter HELENA and CLOWN HELENA. My mother greets me kindly; is she well? CLOWN. She is not well, but yet she has her health; she's very merry, but yet she is not well. But thanks be given, she's very well, and wants nothing i' th' world; but yet she is not well. HELENA. If she be very well, what does she ail that she's not very well? CLOWN. Truly, she's very well indeed, but for two things. HELENA. What two things? CLOWN. One, that she's not in heaven, whither God send her quickly! The other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly! Enter PAROLLES PAROLLES. Bless you, my fortunate lady! HELENA. I hope, sir, I have your good will to have mine own good fortunes. PAROLLES. You had my prayers to lead them on; and to keep them on, have them still. O, my knave, how does my old lady? CLOWN. So that you had her wrinkles and I her money, I would she did as you say. PAROLLES. Why, I say nothing. CLOWN. Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out his master's undoing. To say nothing, to do nothing, to know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be a great part of your title, which is within a very little of nothing. PAROLLES. Away! th'art a knave. CLOWN. You should have said, sir, 'Before a knave th'art a knave'; that's 'Before me th'art a knave.' This had been truth, sir. PAROLLES. Go to, thou art a witty fool; I have found thee. CLOWN. Did you find me in yourself, sir, or were you taught to find me? The search, sir, was profitable; and much fool may you find in you, even to the world's pleasure and the increase of laughter. PAROLLES. A good knave, i' faith, and well fed. Madam, my lord will go away to-night: A very serious business calls on him. The great prerogative and rite of love, Which, as your due, time claims, he does acknowledge; But puts it off to a compell'd restraint; Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets, Which they distil now in the curbed time, To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy And pleasure drown the brim. HELENA. What's his else? PAROLLES. That you will take your instant leave o' th' King, And make this haste as your own good proceeding, Strength'ned with what apology you think May make it probable need. HELENA. What more commands he? PAROLLES. That, having this obtain'd, you presently Attend his further pleasure. HELENA. In everything I wait upon his will. PAROLLES. I shall report it so. HELENA. I pray you. Exit PAROLLES Come, sirrah. Exeunt ACT2|SC5 ACT II. SCENE 5. Paris. The KING'S palace Enter LAFEU and BERTRAM LAFEU. But I hope your lordship thinks not him a soldier. BERTRAM. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant approof. LAFEU. You have it from his own deliverance. BERTRAM. And by other warranted testimony. LAFEU. Then my dial goes not true; I took this lark for a bunting. BERTRAM. I do assure you, my lord, he is very great in knowledge, and accordingly valiant. LAFEU. I have then sinn'd against his experience and transgress'd against his valour; and my state that way is dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here he comes; I pray you make us friends; I will pursue the amity Enter PAROLLES PAROLLES. [To BERTRAM] These things shall be done, sir. LAFEU. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor? PAROLLES. Sir! LAFEU. O, I know him well. Ay, sir; he, sir, 's a good workman, a very good tailor. BERTRAM. [Aside to PAROLLES] Is she gone to the King? PAROLLES. She is. BERTRAM. Will she away to-night? PAROLLES. As you'll have her. BERTRAM. I have writ my letters, casketed my treasure, Given order for our horses; and to-night, When I should take possession of the bride, End ere I do begin. LAFEU. A good traveller is something at the latter end of a dinner; but one that lies three-thirds and uses a known truth to pass a thousand nothings with, should be once heard and thrice beaten. God save you, Captain. BERTRAM. Is there any unkindness between my lord and you, monsieur? PAROLLES. I know not how I have deserved to run into my lord's displeasure. LAFEU. You have made shift to run into 't, boots and spurs and all, like him that leapt into the custard; and out of it you'll run again, rather than suffer question for your residence. BERTRAM. It may be you have mistaken him, my lord. LAFEU. And shall do so ever, though I took him at's prayers. Fare you well, my lord; and believe this of me: there can be no kernal in this light nut; the soul of this man is his clothes; trust him not in matter of heavy consequence; I have kept of them tame, and know their natures. Farewell, monsieur; I have spoken better of you than you have or will to deserve at my hand; but we must do good against evil. Exit PAROLLES. An idle lord, I swear. BERTRAM. I think so. PAROLLES. Why, do you not know him? BERTRAM. Yes, I do know him well; and common speech Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes my clog. Enter HELENA HELENA. I have, sir, as I was commanded from you, Spoke with the King, and have procur'd his leave For present parting; only he desires Some private speech with you. BERTRAM. I shall obey his will. You must not marvel, Helen, at my course, Which holds not colour with the time, nor does The ministration and required office On my particular. Prepar'd I was not For such a business; therefore am I found So much unsettled. This drives me to entreat you That presently you take your way for home, And rather muse than ask why I entreat you; For my respects are better than they seem, And my appointments have in them a need Greater than shows itself at the first view To you that know them not. This to my mother. [Giving a letter] 'Twill be two days ere I shall see you; so I leave you to your wisdom. HELENA. Sir, I can nothing say But that I am your most obedient servant. BERTRAM. Come, come, no more of that. HELENA. And ever shall With true observance seek to eke out that Wherein toward me my homely stars have fail'd To equal my great fortune. BERTRAM. Let that go. My haste is very great. Farewell; hie home. HELENA. Pray, sir, your pardon. BERTRAM. Well, what would you say? HELENA. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe, Nor dare I say 'tis mine, and yet it is; But, like a timorous thief, most fain would steal What law does vouch mine own. BERTRAM. What would you have? HELENA. Something; and scarce so much; nothing, indeed. I would not tell you what I would, my lord. Faith, yes: Strangers and foes do sunder and not kiss. BERTRAM. I pray you, stay not, but in haste to horse. HELENA. I shall not break your bidding, good my lord. BERTRAM. Where are my other men, monsieur? Farewell! Exit HELENA Go thou toward home, where I will never come Whilst I can shake my sword or hear the drum. Away, and for our flight. PAROLLES. Bravely, coragio! Exeunt ACT3|SC1 ACT III. SCENE 1. Florence. The DUKE's palace Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, attended; two FRENCH LORDS, with a TROOP OF SOLDIERS DUKE. So that, from point to point, now have you hear The fundamental reasons of this war; Whose great decision hath much blood let forth And more thirsts after. FIRST LORD. Holy seems the quarrel Upon your Grace's part; black and fearful On the opposer. DUKE. Therefore we marvel much our cousin France Would in so just a business shut his bosom Against our borrowing prayers. SECOND LORD. Good my lord, The reasons of our state I cannot yield, But like a common and an outward man That the great figure of a council frames By self-unable motion; therefore dare not Say what I think of it, since I have found Myself in my incertain grounds to fail As often as I guess'd. DUKE. Be it his pleasure. FIRST LORD. But I am sure the younger of our nature, That surfeit on their ease, will day by day Come here for physic. DUKE. Welcome shall they be And all the honours that can fly from us Shall on them settle. You know your places well; When better fall, for your avails they fell. To-morrow to th' field. Flourish. Exeunt ACT3|SC2 ACT III. SCENE 2. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter COUNTESS and CLOWN COUNTESS. It hath happen'd all as I would have had it, save that he comes not along with her. CLOWN. By my troth, I take my young lord to be a very melancholy man. COUNTESS. By what observance, I pray you? CLOWN. Why, he will look upon his boot and sing; mend the ruff and sing; ask questions and sing; pick his teeth and sing. I know a man that had this trick of melancholy sold a goodly manor for a song. COUNTESS. Let me see what he writes, and when he means to come. [Opening a letter] CLOWN. I have no mind to Isbel since I was at court. Our old ling and our Isbels o' th' country are nothing like your old ling and your Isbels o' th' court. The brains of my Cupid's knock'd out; and I begin to love, as an old man loves money, with no stomach. COUNTESS. What have we here? CLOWN. E'en that you have there. Exit COUNTESS. [Reads] 'I have sent you a daughter-in-law; she hath recovered the King and undone me. I have wedded her, not bedded her; and sworn to make the "not" eternal. You shall hear I am run away; know it before the report come. If there be breadth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your unfortunate son, BERTRAM.' This is not well, rash and unbridled boy, To fly the favours of so good a king, To pluck his indignation on thy head By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous For the contempt of empire. Re-enter CLOWN CLOWN. O madam, yonder is heavy news within between two soldiers and my young lady. COUNTESS. What is the -matter? CLOWN. Nay, there is some comfort in the news, some comfort; your son will not be kill'd so soon as I thought he would. COUNTESS. Why should he be kill'd? CLOWN. So say I, madam, if he run away, as I hear he does the danger is in standing to 't; that's the loss of men, though it be the getting of children. Here they come will tell you more. For my part, I only hear your son was run away. Exit Enter HELENA and the two FRENCH GENTLEMEN SECOND GENTLEMAN. Save you, good madam. HELENA. Madam, my lord is gone, for ever gone. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Do not say so. COUNTESS. Think upon patience. Pray you, gentlemen- I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief That the first face of neither, on the start, Can woman me unto 't. Where is my son, I pray you? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Madam, he's gone to serve the Duke of Florence. We met him thitherward; for thence we came, And, after some dispatch in hand at court, Thither we bend again. HELENA. Look on this letter, madam; here's my passport. [Reads] 'When thou canst get the ring upon my finger, which never shall come off, and show me a child begotten of thy body that I am father to, then call me husband; but in such a "then" I write a "never." This is a dreadful sentence. COUNTESS. Brought you this letter, gentlemen? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam; And for the contents' sake are sorry for our pains. COUNTESS. I prithee, lady, have a better cheer; If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety. He was my son; But I do wash his name out of my blood, And thou art all my child. Towards Florence is he? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam. COUNTESS. And to be a soldier? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Such is his noble purpose; and, believe 't, The Duke will lay upon him all the honour That good convenience claims. COUNTESS. Return you thither? SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing of speed. HELENA. [Reads] 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' 'Tis bitter. COUNTESS. Find you that there? HELENA. Ay, madam. SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Tis but the boldness of his hand haply, which his heart was not consenting to. COUNTESS. Nothing in France until he have no wife! There's nothing here that is too good for him But only she; and she deserves a lord That twenty such rude boys might tend upon, And call her hourly mistress. Who was with him? SECOND GENTLEMAN. A servant only, and a gentleman Which I have sometime known. COUNTESS. Parolles, was it not? SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, my good lady, he. COUNTESS. A very tainted fellow, and full of wickedness. My son corrupts a well-derived nature With his inducement. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Indeed, good lady, The fellow has a deal of that too much Which holds him much to have. COUNTESS. Y'are welcome, gentlemen. I will entreat you, when you see my son, To tell him that his sword can never win The honour that he loses. More I'll entreat you Written to bear along. FIRST GENTLEMAN. We serve you, madam, In that and all your worthiest affairs. COUNTESS. Not so, but as we change our courtesies. Will you draw near? Exeunt COUNTESS and GENTLEMEN HELENA. 'Till I have no wife, I have nothing in France.' Nothing in France until he has no wife! Thou shalt have none, Rousillon, none in France Then hast thou all again. Poor lord! is't That chase thee from thy country, and expose Those tender limbs of thine to the event Of the non-sparing war? And is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride upon the violent speed of fire, Fly with false aim; move the still-piecing air, That sings with piercing; do not touch my lord. Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; Whoever charges on his forward breast, I am the caitiff that do hold him to't; And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected. Better 'twere I met the ravin lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No; come thou home, Rousillon, Whence honour but of danger wins a scar, As oft it loses all. I will be gone. My being here it is that holds thee hence. Shall I stay here to do 't? No, no, although The air of paradise did fan the house, And angels offic'd all. I will be gone, That pitiful rumour may report my flight To consolate thine ear. Come, night; end, day. For with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. Exit ACT3|SC3 ACT III. SCENE 3. Florence. Before the DUKE's palace Flourish. Enter the DUKE OF FLORENCE, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, SOLDIERS, drum and trumpets DUKE. The General of our Horse thou art; and we, Great in our hope, lay our best love and credence Upon thy promising fortune. BERTRAM. Sir, it is A charge too heavy for my strength; but yet We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake To th' extreme edge of hazard. DUKE. Then go thou forth; And Fortune play upon thy prosperous helm, As thy auspicious mistress! BERTRAM. This very day, Great Mars, I put myself into thy file; Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall prove A lover of thy drum, hater of love. Exeunt ACT3|SC4 ACT III. SCENE 4. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter COUNTESS and STEWARD COUNTESS. Alas! and would you take the letter of her? Might you not know she would do as she has done By sending me a letter? Read it again. STEWARD. [Reads] 'I am Saint Jaques' pilgrim, thither gone. Ambitious love hath so in me offended That barefoot plod I the cold ground upon, With sainted vow my faults to have amended. Write, write, that from the bloody course of war My dearest master, your dear son, may hie. Bless him at home in peace, whilst I from far His name with zealous fervour sanctify. His taken labours bid him me forgive; I, his despiteful Juno, sent him forth From courtly friends, with camping foes to live, Where death and danger dogs the heels of worth. He is too good and fair for death and me; Whom I myself embrace to set him free.' COUNTESS. Ah, what sharp stings are in her mildest words! Rinaldo, you did never lack advice so much As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, I could have well diverted her intents, Which thus she hath prevented. STEWARD. Pardon me, madam; If I had given you this at over-night, She might have been o'er ta'en; and yet she writes Pursuit would be but vain. COUNTESS. What angel shall Bless this unworthy husband? He cannot thrive, Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath Of greatest justice. Write, write, Rinaldo, To this unworthy husband of his wife; Let every word weigh heavy of her worth That he does weigh too light. My greatest grief, Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. Dispatch the most convenient messenger. When haply he shall hear that she is gone He will return; and hope I may that she, Hearing so much, will speed her foot again, Led hither by pure love. Which of them both Is dearest to me I have no skill in sense To make distinction. Provide this messenger. My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak; Grief would have tears, and sorrow bids me speak. Exeunt ACT3|SC5 ACT III. SCENE 5. Without the walls of Florence A tucket afar off. Enter an old WIDOW OF FLORENCE, her daughter DIANA, VIOLENTA, and MARIANA, with other CITIZENS WIDOW. Nay, come; for if they do approach the city we shall lose all the sight. DIANA. They say the French count has done most honourable service. WIDOW. It is reported that he has taken their great'st commander; and that with his own hand he slew the Duke's brother. [Tucket] We have lost our labour; they are gone a contrary way. Hark! you may know by their trumpets. MARIANA. Come, let's return again, and suffice ourselves with the report of it. Well, Diana, take heed of this French earl; the honour of a maid is her name, and no legacy is so rich as honesty. WIDOW. I have told my neighbour how you have been solicited by a gentleman his companion. MARIANA. I know that knave, hang him! one Parolles; a filthy officer he is in those suggestions for the young earl. Beware of them, Diana: their promises, enticements, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are not the things they go under; many a maid hath been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they are limed with the twigs that threatens them. I hope I need not to advise you further; but I hope your own grace will keep you where you are, though there were no further danger known but the modesty which is so lost. DIANA. You shall not need to fear me. Enter HELENA in the dress of a pilgrim WIDOW. I hope so. Look, here comes a pilgrim. I know she will lie at my house: thither they send one another. I'll question her. God save you, pilgrim! Whither are bound? HELENA. To Saint Jaques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I do beseech you? WIDOW. At the Saint Francis here, beside the port. HELENA. Is this the way? [A march afar] WIDOW. Ay, marry, is't. Hark you! They come this way. If you will tarry, holy pilgrim, But till the troops come by, I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd; The rather for I think I know your hostess As ample as myself. HELENA. Is it yourself? WIDOW. If you shall please so, pilgrim. HELENA. I thank you, and will stay upon your leisure. WIDOW. You came, I think, from France? HELENA. I did so. WIDOW. Here you shall see a countryman of yours That has done worthy service. HELENA. His name, I pray you. DIANA. The Count Rousillon. Know you such a one? HELENA. But by the ear, that hears most nobly of him; His face I know not. DIANA. What some'er he is, He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, As 'tis reported, for the King had married him Against his liking. Think you it is so? HELENA. Ay, surely, mere the truth; I know his lady. DIANA. There is a gentleman that serves the Count Reports but coarsely of her. HELENA. What's his name? DIANA. Monsieur Parolles. HELENA. O, I believe with him, In argument of praise, or to the worth Of the great Count himself, she is too mean To have her name repeated; all her deserving Is a reserved honesty, and that I have not heard examin'd. DIANA. Alas, poor lady! 'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife Of a detesting lord. WIDOW. I sweet, good creature, wheresoe'er she is Her heart weighs sadly. This young maid might do her A shrewd turn, if she pleas'd. HELENA. How do you mean? May be the amorous Count solicits her In the unlawful purpose. WIDOW. He does, indeed; And brokes with all that can in such a suit Corrupt the tender honour of a maid; But she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard In honestest defence. Enter, with drum and colours, BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and the whole ARMY MARIANA. The gods forbid else! WIDOW. So, now they come. That is Antonio, the Duke's eldest son; That, Escalus. HELENA. Which is the Frenchman? DIANA. He- That with the plume; 'tis a most gallant fellow. I would he lov'd his wife; if he were honester He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsome gentleman? HELENA. I like him well. DIANA. 'Tis pity he is not honest. Yond's that same knave That leads him to these places; were I his lady I would poison that vile rascal. HELENA. Which is he? DIANA. That jack-an-apes with scarfs. Why is he melancholy? HELENA. Perchance he's hurt i' th' battle. PAROLLES. Lose our drum! well. MARIANA. He's shrewdly vex'd at something. Look, he has spied us. WIDOW. Marry, hang you! MARIANA. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! Exeunt BERTRAM, PAROLLES, and ARMY WIDOW. The troop is past. Come, pilgrim, I will bring you Where you shall host. Of enjoin'd penitents There's four or five, to great Saint Jaques bound, Already at my house. HELENA. I humbly thank you. Please it this matron and this gentle maid To eat with us to-night; the charge and thanking Shall be for me, and, to requite you further, I will bestow some precepts of this virgin, Worthy the note. BOTH. We'll take your offer kindly. Exeunt ACT3|SC6 ACT III. SCENE 6. Camp before Florence Enter BERTRAM, and the two FRENCH LORDS SECOND LORD. Nay, good my lord, put him to't; let him have his way. FIRST LORD. If your lordship find him not a hiding, hold me no more in your respect. SECOND LORD. On my life, my lord, a bubble. BERTRAM. Do you think I am so far deceived in him? SECOND LORD. Believe it, my lord, in mine own direct knowledge, without any malice, but to speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker, the owner of no one good quality worthy your lordship's entertainment. FIRST LORD. It were fit you knew him; lest, reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath not, he might at some great and trusty business in a main danger fail you. BERTRAM. I would I knew in what particular action to try him. FIRST LORD. None better than to let him fetch off his drum, which you hear him so confidently undertake to do. SECOND LORD. I with a troop of Florentines will suddenly surprise him; such I will have whom I am sure he knows not from the enemy. We will bind and hoodwink him so that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried into the leaguer of the adversaries when we bring him to our own tents. Be but your lordship present at his examination; if he do not, for the promise of his life and in the highest compulsion of base fear, offer to betray you and deliver all the intelligence in his power against you, and that with the divine forfeit of his soul upon oath, never trust my judgment in anything. FIRST LORD. O, for the love of laughter, let him fetch his drum; he says he has a stratagem for't. When your lordship sees the bottom of his success in't, and to what metal this counterfeit lump of ore will be melted, if you give him not John Drum's entertainment, your inclining cannot be removed. Here he comes. Enter PAROLLES SECOND LORD. O, for the love of laughter, hinder not the honour of his design; let him fetch off his drum in any hand. BERTRAM. How now, monsieur! This drum sticks sorely in your disposition. FIRST LORD. A pox on 't; let it go; 'tis but a drum. PAROLLES. But a drum! Is't but a drum? A drum so lost! There was excellent command: to charge in with our horse upon our own wings, and to rend our own soldiers! FIRST LORD. That was not to be blam'd in the command of the service; it was a disaster of war that Caesar himself could not have prevented, if he had been there to command. BERTRAM. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our success. Some dishonour we had in the loss of that drum; but it is not to be recovered. PAROLLES. It might have been recovered. BERTRAM. It might, but it is not now. PAROLLES. It is to be recovered. But that the merit of service is seldom attributed to the true and exact performer, I would have that drum or another, or 'hic jacet.' BERTRAM. Why, if you have a stomach, to't, monsieur. If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instrument of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a worthy exploit. If you speed well in it, the Duke shall both speak of it and extend to you what further becomes his greatness, even to the utmost syllable of our worthiness. PAROLLES. By the hand of a soldier, I will undertake it. BERTRAM. But you must not now slumber in it. PAROLLES. I'll about it this evening; and I will presently pen down my dilemmas, encourage myself in my certainty, put myself into my mortal preparation; and by midnight look to hear further from me. BERTRAM. May I be bold to acquaint his Grace you are gone about it? PAROLLES. I know not what the success will be, my lord, but the attempt I vow. BERTRAM. I know th' art valiant; and, to the of thy soldiership, will subscribe for thee. Farewell. PAROLLES. I love not many words. Exit SECOND LORD. No more than a fish loves water. Is not this a strange fellow, my lord, that so confidently seems to undertake this business, which he knows is not to be done; damns himself to do, and dares better be damn'd than to do 't. FIRST LORD. You do not know him, my lord, as we do. Certain it is that he will steal himself into a man's favour, and for a week escape a great deal of discoveries; but when you find him out, you have him ever after. BERTRAM. Why, do you think he will make no deed at all of this that so seriously he does address himself unto? SECOND LORD. None in the world; but return with an invention, and clap upon you two or three probable lies. But we have almost emboss'd him. You shall see his fall to-night; for indeed he is not for your lordship's respect. FIRST LORD. We'll make you some sport with the fox ere we case him. He was first smok'd by the old Lord Lafeu. When his disguise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat you shall find him; which you shall see this very night. SECOND LORD. I must go look my twigs; he shall be caught. BERTRAM. Your brother, he shall go along with me. SECOND LORD. As't please your lordship. I'll leave you. Exit BERTRAM. Now will I lead you to the house, and show you The lass I spoke of. FIRST LORD. But you say she's honest. BERTRAM. That's all the fault. I spoke with her but once, And found her wondrous cold; but I sent to her, By this same coxcomb that we have i' th' wind, Tokens and letters which she did re-send; And this is all I have done. She's a fair creature; Will you go see her? FIRST LORD. With all my heart, my lord. Exeunt ACT3|SC7 ACT III. SCENE 7. Florence. The WIDOW'S house Enter HELENA and WIDOW HELENA. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, I know not how I shall assure you further But I shall lose the grounds I work upon. WIDOW. Though my estate be fall'n, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses; And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. HELENA. Nor would I wish you. FIRST give me trust the Count he is my husband, And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken Is so from word to word; and then you cannot, By the good aid that I of you shall borrow, Err in bestowing it. WIDOW. I should believe you; For you have show'd me that which well approves Y'are great in fortune. HELENA. Take this purse of gold, And let me buy your friendly help thus far, Which I will over-pay and pay again When I have found it. The Count he woos your daughter Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolv'd to carry her. Let her in fine consent, As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will nought deny That she'll demand. A ring the County wears That downward hath succeeded in his house From son to son some four or five descents Since the first father wore it. This ring he holds In most rich choice; yet, in his idle fire, To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, Howe'er repented after. WIDOW. Now I see The bottom of your purpose. HELENA. You see it lawful then. It is no more But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; In fine, delivers me to fill the time, Herself most chastely absent. After this, To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns To what is pass'd already. WIDOW. I have yielded. Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, That time and place with this deceit so lawful May prove coherent. Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs compos'd To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on 't. HELENA. Why then to-night Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed, Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed, And lawful meaning in a lawful act; Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact. But let's about it. Exeunt ACT4|SC1 ACT IV. SCENE 1. Without the Florentine camp Enter SECOND FRENCH LORD with five or six other SOLDIERS in ambush SECOND LORD. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless some one among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. FIRST SOLDIER. Good captain, let me be th' interpreter. SECOND LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice? FIRST SOLDIER. No, sir, I warrant you. SECOND LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again? FIRST SOLDIER. E'en such as you speak to me. SECOND LORD. He must think us some band of strangers i' th' adversary's entertainment. Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring languages, therefore we must every one be a man of his own fancy; not to know what we speak one to another, so we seem to know, is to know straight our purpose: choughs' language, gabble enough, and good enough. As for you, interpreter, you must seem very politic. But couch, ho! here he comes; to beguile two hours in a sleep, and then to return and swear the lies he forges. Enter PAROLLES PAROLLES. Ten o'clock. Within these three hours 'twill be time enough to go home. What shall I say I have done? It must be a very plausive invention that carries it. They begin to smoke me; and disgraces have of late knock'd to often at my door. I find my tongue is too foolhardy; but my heart hath the fear of Mars before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of my tongue. SECOND LORD. This is the first truth that e'er thine own tongue was guilty of. PAROLLES. What the devil should move me to undertake the recovery of this drum, being not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I must give myself some hurts, and say I got them in exploit. Yet slight ones will not carry it. They will say 'Came you off with so little?' And great ones I dare not give. Wherefore, what's the instance? Tongue, I must put you into a butterwoman's mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet's mule, if you prattle me into these perils. SECOND LORD. Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is? PAROLLES. I would the cutting of my garments would serve the turn, or the breaking of my Spanish sword. SECOND LORD. We cannot afford you so. PAROLLES. Or the baring of my beard; and to say it was in stratagem. SECOND LORD. 'Twould not do. PAROLLES. Or to drown my clothes, and say I was stripp'd. SECOND LORD. Hardly serve. PAROLLES. Though I swore I leap'd from the window of the citadel- SECOND LORD. How deep? PAROLLES. Thirty fathom. SECOND LORD. Three great oaths would scarce make that be believed. PAROLLES. I would I had any drum of the enemy's; I would swear I recover'd it. SECOND LORD. You shall hear one anon. [Alarum within] PAROLLES. A drum now of the enemy's! SECOND LORD. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo. ALL. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo. PAROLLES. O, ransom, ransom! Do not hide mine eyes. [They blindfold him] FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos thromuldo boskos. PAROLLES. I know you are the Muskos' regiment, And I shall lose my life for want of language. If there be here German, or Dane, Low Dutch, Italian, or French, let him speak to me; I'll discover that which shall undo the Florentine. FIRST SOLDIER. Boskos vauvado. I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue. Kerely-bonto, sir, betake thee to thy faith, for seventeen poniards are at thy bosom. PAROLLES. O! FIRST SOLDIER. O, pray, pray, pray! Manka revania dulche. SECOND LORD. Oscorbidulchos volivorco. FIRST SOLDIER. The General is content to spare thee yet; And, hoodwink'd as thou art, will lead thee on To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst inform Something to save thy life. PAROLLES. O, let me live, And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, Their force, their purposes. Nay, I'll speak that Which you will wonder at. FIRST SOLDIER. But wilt thou faithfully? PAROLLES. If I do not, damn me. FIRST SOLDIER. Acordo linta. Come on; thou art granted space. Exit, PAROLLES guarded. A short alarum within SECOND LORD. Go, tell the Count Rousillon and my brother We have caught the woodcock, and will keep him muffled Till we do hear from them. SECOND SOLDIER. Captain, I will. SECOND LORD. 'A will betray us all unto ourselves- Inform on that. SECOND SOLDIER. So I will, sir. SECOND LORD. Till then I'll keep him dark and safely lock'd. Exeunt ACT4|SC2 ACT IV. SCENE 2. Florence. The WIDOW'S house Enter BERTRAM and DIANA BERTRAM. They told me that your name was Fontibell. DIANA. No, my good lord, Diana. BERTRAM. Titled goddess; And worth it, with addition! But, fair soul, In your fine frame hath love no quality? If the quick fire of youth light not your mind, You are no maiden, but a monument; When you are dead, you should be such a one As you are now, for you are cold and stern; And now you should be as your mother was When your sweet self was got. DIANA. She then was honest. BERTRAM. So should you be. DIANA. No. My mother did but duty; such, my lord, As you owe to your wife. BERTRAM. No more o'that! I prithee do not strive against my vows. I was compell'd to her; but I love the By love's own sweet constraint, and will for ever Do thee all rights of service. DIANA. Ay, so you serve us Till we serve you; but when you have our roses You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves, And mock us with our bareness. BERTRAM. How have I sworn! DIANA. 'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the High'st to witness. Then, pray you, tell me: If I should swear by Jove's great attributes I lov'd you dearly, would you believe my oaths When I did love you ill? This has no holding, To swear by him whom I protest to love That I will work against him. Therefore your oaths Are words and poor conditions, but unseal'd- At least in my opinion. BERTRAM. Change it, change it; Be not so holy-cruel. Love is holy; And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts That you do charge men with. Stand no more off, But give thyself unto my sick desires, Who then recovers. Say thou art mine, and ever My love as it begins shall so persever. DIANA. I see that men make ropes in such a scarre That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that ring. BERTRAM. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no power To give it from me. DIANA. Will you not, my lord? BERTRAM. It is an honour 'longing to our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose. DIANA. Mine honour's such a ring: My chastity's the jewel of our house, Bequeathed down from many ancestors; Which were the greatest obloquy i' th' world In me to lose. Thus your own proper wisdom Brings in the champion Honour on my part Against your vain assault. BERTRAM. Here, take my ring; My house, mine honour, yea, my life, be thine, And I'll be bid by thee. DIANA. When midnight comes, knock at my chamber window; I'll order take my mother shall not hear. Now will I charge you in the band of truth, When you have conquer'd my yet maiden bed, Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me: My reasons are most strong; and you shall know them When back again this ring shall be deliver'd. And on your finger in the night I'll put Another ring, that what in time proceeds May token to the future our past deeds. Adieu till then; then fail not. You have won A wife of me, though there my hope be done. BERTRAM. A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee. Exit DIANA. For which live long to thank both heaven and me! You may so in the end. My mother told me just how he would woo, As if she sat in's heart; she says all men Have the like oaths. He had sworn to marry me When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with him When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braid, Marry that will, I live and die a maid. Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin To cozen him that would unjustly win. Exit ACT4|SC3 ACT IV. SCENE 2. The Florentine camp Enter the two FRENCH LORDS, and two or three SOLDIERS SECOND LORD. You have not given him his mother's letter? FIRST LORD. I have deliv'red it an hour since. There is something in't that stings his nature; for on the reading it he chang'd almost into another man. SECOND LORD. He has much worthy blame laid upon him for shaking off so good a wife and so sweet a lady. FIRST LORD. Especially he hath incurred the everlasting displeasure of the King, who had even tun'd his bounty to sing happiness to him. I will tell you a thing, but you shall let it dwell darkly with you. SECOND LORD. When you have spoken it, 'tis dead, and I am the grave of it. FIRST LORD. He hath perverted a young gentlewoman here in Florence, of a most chaste renown; and this night he fleshes his will in the spoil of her honour. He hath given her his monumental ring, and thinks himself made in the unchaste composition. SECOND LORD. Now, God delay our rebellion! As we are ourselves, what things are we! FIRST LORD. Merely our own traitors. And as in the common course of all treasons we still see them reveal themselves till they attain to their abhorr'd ends; so he that in this action contrives against his own nobility, in his proper stream, o'erflows himself. SECOND LORD. Is it not meant damnable in us to be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We shall not then have his company to-night? FIRST LORD. Not till after midnight; for he is dieted to his hour. SECOND LORD. That approaches apace. I would gladly have him see his company anatomiz'd, that he might take a measure of his own judgments, wherein so curiously he had set this counterfeit. FIRST LORD. We will not meddle with him till he come; for his presence must be the whip of the other. SECOND LORD. In the meantime, what hear you of these wars? FIRST LORD. I hear there is an overture of peace. SECOND LORD. Nay, I assure you, a peace concluded. FIRST LORD. What will Count Rousillon do then? Will he travel higher, or return again into France? SECOND LORD. I perceive, by this demand, you are not altogether of his counsel. FIRST LORD. Let it be forbid, sir! So should I be a great deal of his act. SECOND LORD. Sir, his wife, some two months since, fled from his house. Her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le Grand; which holy undertaking with most austere sanctimony she accomplish'd; and, there residing, the tenderness of her nature became as a prey to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last breath, and now she sings in heaven. FIRST LORD. How is this justified? SECOND LORD. The stronger part of it by her own letters, which makes her story true even to the point of her death. Her death itself, which could not be her office to say is come, was faithfully confirm'd by the rector of the place. FIRST LORD. Hath the Count all this intelligence? SECOND LORD. Ay, and the particular confirmations, point from point, to the full arming of the verity. FIRST LORD. I am heartily sorry that he'll be glad of this. SECOND LORD. How mightily sometimes we make us comforts of our losses! FIRST LORD. And how mightily some other times we drown our gain in tears! The great dignity that his valour hath here acquir'd for him shall at home be encount'red with a shame as ample. SECOND LORD. The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. Our virtues would be proud if our faults whipt them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherish'd by our virtues. Enter a MESSENGER How now? Where's your master? SERVANT. He met the Duke in the street, sir; of whom he hath taken a solemn leave. His lordship will next morning for France. The Duke hath offered him letters of commendations to the King. SECOND LORD. They shall be no more than needful there, if they were more than they can commend. FIRST LORD. They cannot be too sweet for the King's tartness. Here's his lordship now. Enter BERTRAM How now, my lord, is't not after midnight? BERTRAM. I have to-night dispatch'd sixteen businesses, a month's length apiece; by an abstract of success: I have congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his nearest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her; writ to my lady mother I am returning; entertain'd my convoy; and between these main parcels of dispatch effected many nicer needs. The last was the greatest, but that I have not ended yet. SECOND LORD. If the business be of any difficulty and this morning your departure hence, it requires haste of your lordship. BERTRAM. I mean the business is not ended, as fearing to hear of it hereafter. But shall we have this dialogue between the Fool and the Soldier? Come, bring forth this counterfeit module has deceiv'd me like a double-meaning prophesier. SECOND LORD. Bring him forth. [Exeunt SOLDIERS] Has sat i' th' stocks all night, poor gallant knave. BERTRAM. No matter; his heels have deserv'd it, in usurping his spurs so long. How does he carry himself? SECOND LORD. I have told your lordship already the stocks carry him. But to answer you as you would be understood: he weeps like a wench that had shed her milk; he hath confess'd himself to Morgan, whom he supposes to be a friar, from the time of his remembrance to this very instant disaster of his setting i' th' stocks. And what think you he hath confess'd? BERTRAM. Nothing of me, has 'a? SECOND LORD. His confession is taken, and it shall be read to his face; if your lordship be in't, as I believe you are, you must have the patience to hear it. Enter PAROLLES guarded, and FIRST SOLDIER as interpreter BERTRAM. A plague upon him! muffled! He can say nothing of me. SECOND LORD. Hush, hush! Hoodman comes. Portotartarossa. FIRST SOLDIER. He calls for the tortures. What will you say without 'em? PAROLLES. I will confess what I know without constraint; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can say no more. FIRST SOLDIER. Bosko chimurcho. SECOND LORD. Boblibindo chicurmurco. FIRST SOLDIER. YOU are a merciful general. Our General bids you answer to what I shall ask you out of a note. PAROLLES. And truly, as I hope to live. FIRST SOLDIER. 'First demand of him how many horse the Duke is strong.' What say you to that? PAROLLES. Five or six thousand; but very weak and unserviceable. The troops are all scattered, and the commanders very poor rogues, upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope to live. FIRST SOLDIER. Shall I set down your answer so? PAROLLES. Do; I'll take the sacrament on 't, how and which way you will. BERTRAM. All's one to him. What a past-saving slave is this! SECOND LORD. Y'are deceiv'd, my lord; this is Monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist-that was his own phrase-that had the whole theoric of war in the knot of his scarf, and the practice in the chape of his dagger. FIRST LORD. I will never trust a man again for keeping his sword clean; nor believe he can have everything in him by wearing his apparel neatly. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. PAROLLES. 'Five or six thousand horse' I said-I will say true- 'or thereabouts' set down, for I'll speak truth. SECOND LORD. He's very near the truth in this. BERTRAM. But I con him no thanks for't in the nature he delivers it. PAROLLES. 'Poor rogues' I pray you say. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. PAROLLES. I humbly thank you, sir. A truth's a truth-the rogues are marvellous poor. FIRST SOLDIER. 'Demand of him of what strength they are a-foot.' What say you to that? PAROLLES. By my troth, sir, if I were to live this present hour, I will tell true. Let me see: Spurio, a hundred and fifty; Sebastian, so many; Corambus, so many; Jaques, so many; Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two hundred fifty each; mine own company, Chitopher, Vaumond, Bentii, two hundred fifty each; so that the muster-file, rotten and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fifteen thousand poll; half of the which dare not shake the snow from off their cassocks lest they shake themselves to pieces. BERTRAM. What shall be done to him? SECOND LORD. Nothing, but let him have thanks. Demand of him my condition, and what credit I have with the Duke. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, that's set down. 'You shall demand of him whether one Captain Dumain be i' th' camp, a Frenchman; what his reputation is with the Duke, what his valour, honesty, expertness in wars; or whether he thinks it were not possible, with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt him to a revolt.' What say you to this? What do you know of it? PAROLLES. I beseech you, let me answer to the particular of the inter'gatories. Demand them singly. FIRST SOLDIER. Do you know this Captain Dumain? PAROLLES. I know him: 'a was a botcher's prentice in Paris, from whence he was whipt for getting the shrieve's fool with child-a dumb innocent that could not say him nay. BERTRAM. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; though I know his brains are forfeit to the next tile that falls. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, is this captain in the Duke of Florence's camp? PAROLLES. Upon my knowledge, he is, and lousy. SECOND LORD. Nay, look not so upon me; we shall hear of your lordship anon. FIRST SOLDIER. What is his reputation with the Duke? PAROLLES. The Duke knows him for no other but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me this other day to turn him out o' th' band. I think I have his letter in my pocket. FIRST SOLDIER. Marry, we'll search. PAROLLES. In good sadness, I do not know; either it is there or it is upon a file with the Duke's other letters in my tent. FIRST SOLDIER. Here 'tis; here's a paper. Shall I read it to you? PAROLLES. I do not know if it be it or no. BERTRAM. Our interpreter does it well. SECOND LORD. Excellently. FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] 'Dian, the Count's a fool, and full of gold.' PAROLLES. That is not the Duke's letter, sir; that is an advertisement to a proper maid in Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the allurement of one Count Rousillon, a foolish idle boy, but for all that very ruttish. I pray you, sir, put it up again. FIRST SOLDIER. Nay, I'll read it first by your favour. PAROLLES. My meaning in't, I protest, was very honest in the behalf of the maid; for I knew the young Count to be a dangerous and lascivious boy, who is a whale to virginity, and devours up all the fry it finds. BERTRAM. Damnable both-sides rogue! FIRST SOLDIER. [Reads] 'When he swears oaths, bid him drop gold, and take it; After he scores, he never pays the score. Half won is match well made; match, and well make it; He ne'er pays after-debts, take it before. And say a soldier, Dian, told thee this: Men are to mell with, boys are not to kiss; For count of this, the Count's a fool, I know it, Who pays before, but not when he does owe it. Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, PAROLLES.' BERTRAM. He shall be whipt through the army with this rhyme in's forehead. FIRST LORD. This is your devoted friend, sir, the manifold linguist, and the amnipotent soldier. BERTRAM. I could endure anything before but a cat, and now he's a cat to me. FIRST SOLDIER. I perceive, sir, by our General's looks we shall be fain to hang you. PAROLLES. My life, sir, in any case! Not that I am afraid to die, but that, my offences being many, I would repent out the remainder of nature. Let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' th' stocks, or anywhere, so I may live. FIRST SOLDIER. We'll see what may be done, so you confess freely; therefore, once more to this Captain Dumain: you have answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and to his valour; what is his honesty? PAROLLES. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a cloister; for rapes and ravishments he parallels Nessus. He professes not keeping of oaths; in breaking 'em he is stronger than Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility that you would think truth were a fool. Drunkenness is his best virtue, for he will be swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little harm, save to his bedclothes about him; but they know his conditions and lay him in straw. I have but little more to say, sir, of his honesty. He has everything that an honest man should not have; what an honest man should have he has nothing. SECOND LORD. I begin to love him for this. BERTRAM. For this description of thine honesty? A pox upon him! For me, he's more and more a cat. FIRST SOLDIER. What say you to his expertness in war? PAROLLES. Faith, sir, has led the drum before the English tragedians-to belie him I will not-and more of his soldier-ship I know not, except in that country he had the honour to be the officer at a place there called Mile-end to instruct for the doubling of files-I would do the man what honour I can-but of this I am not certain. SECOND LORD. He hath out-villain'd villainy so far that the rarity redeems him. BERTRAM. A pox on him! he's a cat still. FIRST SOLDIER. His qualities being at this poor price, I need not to ask you if gold will corrupt him to revolt. PAROLLES. Sir, for a cardecue he will sell the fee-simple of his salvation, the inheritance of it; and cut th' entail from all remainders and a perpetual succession for it perpetually. FIRST SOLDIER. What's his brother, the other Captain Dumain? FIRST LORD. Why does he ask him of me? FIRST SOLDIER. What's he? PAROLLES. E'en a crow o' th' same nest; not altogether so great as the first in goodness, but greater a great deal in evil. He excels his brother for a coward; yet his brother is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreat he outruns any lackey: marry, in coming on he has the cramp. FIRST SOLDIER. If your life be saved, will you undertake to betray the Florentine? PAROLLES. Ay, and the Captain of his Horse, Count Rousillon. FIRST SOLDIER. I'll whisper with the General, and know his pleasure. PAROLLES. [Aside] I'll no more drumming. A plague of all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and to beguile the supposition of that lascivious young boy the Count, have I run into this danger. Yet who would have suspected an ambush where I was taken? FIRST SOLDIER. There is no remedy, sir, but you must die. The General says you that have so traitorously discover'd the secrets of your army, and made such pestiferous reports of men very nobly held, can serve the world for no honest use; therefore you must die. Come, headsman, of with his head. PAROLLES. O Lord, sir, let me live, or let me see my death! FIRST SOLDIER. That shall you, and take your leave of all your friends. [Unmuffling him] So look about you; know you any here? BERTRAM. Good morrow, noble Captain. FIRST LORD. God bless you, Captain Parolles. SECOND LORD. God save you, noble Captain. FIRST LORD. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord Lafeu? I am for France. SECOND LORD. Good Captain, will you give me a copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalf of the Count Rousillon? An I were not a very coward I'd compel it of you; but fare you well. Exeunt BERTRAM and LORDS FIRST SOLDIER. You are undone, Captain, all but your scarf; that has a knot on 't yet. PAROLLES. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot? FIRST SOLDIER. If you could find out a country where but women were that had received so much shame, you might begin an impudent nation. Fare ye well, sir; I am for France too; we shall speak of you there. Exit with SOLDIERS PAROLLES. Yet am I thankful. If my heart were great, 'Twould burst at this. Captain I'll be no more; But I will eat, and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall. Simply the thing I am Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart shall be found an ass. Rust, sword; cool, blushes; and, Parolles, live Safest in shame. Being fool'd, by fool'ry thrive. There's place and means for every man alive. I'll after them. Exit ACT4|SC4 ACT IV SCENE 4. The WIDOW'S house Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA HELENA. That you may well perceive I have not wrong'd you! One of the greatest in the Christian world Shall be my surety; fore whose throne 'tis needful, Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel. Time was I did him a desired office, Dear almost as his life; which gratitude Through flinty Tartar's bosom would peep forth, And answer 'Thanks.' I duly am inform'd His Grace is at Marseilles, to which place We have convenient convoy. You must know I am supposed dead. The army breaking, My husband hies him home; where, heaven aiding, And by the leave of my good lord the King, We'll be before our welcome. WIDOW. Gentle madam, You never had a servant to whose trust Your business was more welcome. HELENA. Nor you, mistress, Ever a friend whose thoughts more truly labour To recompense your love. Doubt not but heaven Hath brought me up to be your daughter's dower, As it hath fated her to be my motive And helper to a husband. But, O strange men! That can such sweet use make of what they hate, When saucy trusting of the cozen'd thoughts Defiles the pitchy night. So lust doth play With what it loathes, for that which is away. But more of this hereafter. You, Diana, Under my poor instructions yet must suffer Something in my behalf. DIANA. Let death and honesty Go with your impositions, I am yours Upon your will to suffer. HELENA. Yet, I pray you: But with the word the time will bring on summer, When briers shall have leaves as well as thorns And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; Our waggon is prepar'd, and time revives us. All's Well that Ends Well. Still the fine's the crown. Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. Exeunt ACT4|SC5 ACT IV SCENE 5. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Enter COUNTESS, LAFEU, and CLOWN LAFEU. No, no, no, son was misled with a snipt-taffeta fellow there, whose villainous saffron would have made all the unbak'd and doughy youth of a nation in his colour. Your daughter-in-law had been alive at this hour, and your son here at home, more advanc'd by the King than by that red-tail'd humble-bee I speak of. COUNTESS. I would I had not known him. It was the death of the most virtuous gentlewoman that ever nature had praise for creating. If she had partaken of my flesh, and cost me the dearest groans of a mother. I could not have owed her a more rooted love. LAFEU. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand sallets ere we light on such another herb. CLOWN. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjoram of the sallet, or, rather, the herb of grace. LAFEU. They are not sallet-herbs, you knave; they are nose-herbs. CLOWN. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir; I have not much skill in grass. LAFEU. Whether dost thou profess thyself-a knave or a fool? CLOWN. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, and a knave at a man's. LAFEU. Your distinction? CLOWN. I would cozen the man of his wife, and do his service. LAFEU. So you were a knave at his service, indeed. CLOWN. And I would give his wife my bauble, sir, to do her service. LAFEU. I will subscribe for thee; thou art both knave and fool. CLOWN. At your service. LAFEU. No, no, no. CLOWN. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I can serve as great a prince as you are. LAFEU. Who's that? A Frenchman? CLOWN. Faith, sir, 'a has an English name; but his fisnomy is more hotter in France than there. LAFEU. What prince is that? CLOWN. The Black Prince, sir; alias, the Prince of Darkness; alias, the devil. LAFEU. Hold thee, there's my purse. I give thee not this to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st of; serve him still. CLOWN. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that always loved a great fire; and the master I speak of ever keeps a good fire. But, sure, he is the prince of the world; let his nobility remain in's court. I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter. Some that humble themselves may; but the many will be too chill and tender: and they'll be for the flow'ry way that leads to the broad gate and the great fire. LAFEU. Go thy ways, I begin to be aweary of thee; and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; let my horses be well look'd to, without any tricks. CLOWN. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, they shall be jades' tricks, which are their own right by the law of nature. Exit LAFEU. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy. COUNTESS. So 'a is. My lord that's gone made himself much sport out of him. By his authority he remains here, which he thinks is a patent for his sauciness; and indeed he has no pace, but runs where he will. LAFEU. I like him well; 'tis not amiss. And I was about to tell you, since I heard of the good lady's death, and that my lord your son was upon his return home, I moved the King my master to speak in the behalf of my daughter; which, in the minority of them both, his Majesty out of a self-gracious remembrance did first propose. His Highness hath promis'd me to do it; and, to stop up the displeasure he hath conceived against your son, there is no fitter matter. How does your ladyship like it? COUNTESS. With very much content, my lord; and I wish it happily effected. LAFEU. His Highness comes post from Marseilles, of as able body as when he number'd thirty; 'a will be here to-morrow, or I am deceiv'd by him that in such intelligence hath seldom fail'd. COUNTESS. It rejoices me that I hope I shall see him ere I die. I have letters that my son will be here to-night. I shall beseech your lordship to remain with me tal they meet together. LAFEU. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I might safely be admitted. COUNTESS. You need but plead your honourable privilege. LAFEU. Lady, of that I have made a bold charter; but, I thank my God, it holds yet. Re-enter CLOWN CLOWN. O madam, yonder's my lord your son with a patch of velvet on's face; whether there be a scar under 't or no, the velvet knows; but 'tis a goodly patch of velvet. His left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but his right cheek is worn bare. LAFEU. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good liv'ry of honour; so belike is that. CLOWN. But it is your carbonado'd face. LAFEU. Let us go see your son, I pray you; I long to talk with the young noble soldier. CLOWN. Faith, there's a dozen of 'em, with delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man. Exeunt ACT5|SC1 ACT V. SCENE 1. Marseilles. A street Enter HELENA, WIDOW, and DIANA, with two ATTENDANTS HELENA. But this exceeding posting day and night Must wear your spirits low; we cannot help it. But since you have made the days and nights as one, To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs, Be bold you do so grow in my requital As nothing can unroot you. Enter a GENTLEMAN In happy time! This man may help me to his Majesty's ear, If he would spend his power. God save you, sir. GENTLEMAN. And you. HELENA. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France. GENTLEMAN. I have been sometimes there. HELENA. I do presume, sir, that you are not fall'n From the report that goes upon your goodness; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to The use of your own virtues, for the which I shall continue thankful. GENTLEMAN. What's your will? HELENA. That it will please you To give this poor petition to the King; And aid me with that store of power you have To come into his presence. GENTLEMAN. The King's not here. HELENA. Not here, sir? GENTLEMAN. Not indeed. He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste Than is his use. WIDOW. Lord, how we lose our pains! HELENA. All's Well That Ends Well yet, Though time seem so adverse and means unfit. I do beseech you, whither is he gone? GENTLEMAN. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon; Whither I am going. HELENA. I do beseech you, sir, Since you are like to see the King before me, Commend the paper to his gracious hand; Which I presume shall render you no blame, But rather make you thank your pains for it. I will come after you with what good speed Our means will make us means. GENTLEMAN. This I'll do for you. HELENA. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more. We must to horse again; Go, go, provide. Exeunt ACT5|SC2 ACT V SCENE 2. Rousillon. The inner court of the COUNT'S palace Enter CLOWN and PAROLLES PAROLLES. Good Monsieur Lavache, give my Lord Lafeu this letter. I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in Fortune's mood, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. CLOWN. Truly, Fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strongly as thou speak'st of. I will henceforth eat no fish of Fortune's butt'ring. Prithee, allow the wind. PAROLLES. Nay, you need not to stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor. CLOWN. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Prithee, get thee further. PAROLLES. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. CLOWN. Foh! prithee stand away. A paper from Fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look here he comes himself. Enter LAFEU Here is a pur of Fortune's, sir, or of Fortune's cat, but not a musk-cat, that has fall'n into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks like a poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my similes of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. Exit PAROLLES. My lord, I am a man whom Fortune hath cruelly scratch'd. LAFEU. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave with Fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a cardecue for you. Let the justices make you and Fortune friends; I am for other business. PAROLLES. I beseech your honour to hear me one single word. LAFEU. You beg a single penny more; come, you shall ha't; save your word. PAROLLES. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. LAFEU. You beg more than word then. Cox my passion! give me your hand. How does your drum? PAROLLES. O my good lord, you were the first that found me. LAFEU. Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee. PAROLLES. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out. LAFEU. Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings the in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound] The King's coming; I know by his trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night. Though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat. Go to; follow. PAROLLES. I praise God for you. Exeunt ACT5|SC3 ACT IV SCENE 3. Rousillon. The COUNT'S palace Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, the two FRENCH LORDS, with ATTENDANTS KING. We lost a jewel of her, and our esteem Was made much poorer by it; but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home. COUNTESS. 'Tis past, my liege; And I beseech your Majesty to make it Natural rebellion, done i' th' blaze of youth, When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, O'erbears it and burns on. KING. My honour'd lady, I have forgiven and forgotten all; Though my revenges were high bent upon him And watch'd the time to shoot. LAFEU. This I must say- But first, I beg my pardon: the young lord Did to his Majesty, his mother, and his lady, Offence of mighty note; but to himself The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife Whose beauty did astonish the survey Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; Whose dear perfection hearts that scorn'd to serve Humbly call'd mistress. KING. Praising what is lost Makes the remembrance dear. Well, call him hither; We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon; The nature of his great offence is dead, And deeper than oblivion do we bury Th' incensing relics of it; let him approach, A stranger, no offender; and inform him So 'tis our will he should. GENTLEMAN. I shall, my liege. Exit GENTLEMAN KING. What says he to your daughter? Have you spoke? LAFEU. All that he is hath reference to your Highness. KING. Then shall we have a match. I have letters sent me That sets him high in fame. Enter BERTRAM LAFEU. He looks well on 't. KING. I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail In me at once. But to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again. BERTRAM. My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. KING. All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let's take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. You remember The daughter of this lord? BERTRAM. Admiringly, my liege. At first I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart Durst make too bold herald of my tongue; Where the impression of mine eye infixing, Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me, Which warp'd the line of every other favour, Scorn'd a fair colour or express'd it stol'n, Extended or contracted all proportions To a most hideous object. Thence it came That she whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye The dust that did offend it. KING. Well excus'd. That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away From the great compt; but love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offence, Crying 'That's good that's gone.' Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave. Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust; Our own love waking cries to see what's done, While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon. Be this sweet Helen's knell. And now forget her. Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin. The main consents are had; and here we'll stay To see our widower's second marriage-day. COUNTESS. Which better than the first, O dear heaven, bless! Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cesse! LAFEU. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name Must be digested; give a favour from you, To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter, That she may quickly come. [BERTRAM gives a ring] By my old beard, And ev'ry hair that's on 't, Helen, that's dead, Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this, The last that e'er I took her leave at court, I saw upon her finger. BERTRAM. Hers it was not. KING. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. This ring was mine; and when I gave it Helen I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token I would relieve her. Had you that craft to reave her Of what should stead her most? BERTRAM. My gracious sovereign, Howe'er it pleases you to take it so, The ring was never hers. COUNTESS. Son, on my life, I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it At her life's rate. LAFEU. I am sure I saw her wear it. BERTRAM. You are deceiv'd, my lord; she never saw it. In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Of her that threw it. Noble she was, and thought I stood engag'd; but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again. KING. Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying med'cine, Hath not in nature's mystery more science Than I have in this ring. 'Twas mine, 'twas Helen's, Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know That you are well acquainted with yourself, Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement You got it from her. She call'd the saints to surety That she would never put it from her finger Unless she gave it to yourself in bed- Where you have never come- or sent it us Upon her great disaster. BERTRAM. She never saw it. KING. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour; And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman- 'twill not prove so. And yet I know not- thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe More than to see this ring. Take him away. [GUARDS seize BERTRAM] My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, Shall tax my fears of little vanity, Having vainly fear'd too little. Away with him. We'll sift this matter further. BERTRAM. If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence, Where she yet never was. Exit, guarded KING. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. Enter a GENTLEMAN GENTLEMAN. Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame or no, I know not: Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath, for four or five removes, come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, Is here attending; her business looks in her With an importing visage; and she told me In a sweet verbal brief it did concern Your Highness with herself. KING. [Reads the letter] 'Upon his many protestations to marry me when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the Count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice. Grant it me, O King! in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone. DIANA CAPILET.' LAFEU. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll for this. I'll none of him. KING. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, To bring forth this discov'ry. Seek these suitors. Go speedily, and bring again the Count. Exeunt ATTENDANTS I am afeard the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd. COUNTESS. Now, justice on the doers! Enter BERTRAM, guarded KING. I wonder, sir, sith wives are monsters to you. And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry. Enter WIDOW and DIANA What woman's that? DIANA. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capilet. My suit, as I do understand, you know, And therefore know how far I may be pitied. WIDOW. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour Both suffer under this complaint we bring, And both shall cease, without your remedy. KING. Come hither, Count; do you know these women? BERTRAM. My lord, I neither can nor will deny But that I know them. Do they charge me further? DIANA. Why do you look so strange upon your wife? BERTRAM. She's none of mine, my lord. DIANA. If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embodied yours That she which marries you must marry me, Either both or none. LAFEU. [To BERTRAM] Your reputation comes too short for my daughter; you are no husband for her. BERTRAM. My lord, this is a fond and desp'rate creature Whom sometime I have laugh'd with. Let your Highness Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour Than for to think that I would sink it here. KING. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend Till your deeds gain them. Fairer prove your honour Than in my thought it lies! DIANA. Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath if he does think He had not my virginity. KING. What say'st thou to her? BERTRAM. She's impudent, my lord, And was a common gamester to the camp. DIANA. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so He might have bought me at a common price. Do not believe him. o, behold this ring, Whose high respect and rich validity Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that, He gave it to a commoner o' th' camp, If I be one. COUNTESS. He blushes, and 'tis it. Of six preceding ancestors, that gem Conferr'd by testament to th' sequent issue, Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife: That ring's a thousand proofs. KING. Methought you said You saw one here in court could witness it. DIANA. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles. LAFEU. I saw the man to-day, if man he be. KING. Find him, and bring him hither. Exit an ATTENDANT BERTRAM. What of him? He's quoted for a most perfidious slave, With all the spots o' th' world tax'd and debauch'd, Whose nature sickens but to speak a truth. Am I or that or this for what he'll utter That will speak anything? KING. She hath that ring of yours. BERTRAM. I think she has. Certain it is I lik'd her, And boarded her i' th' wanton way of youth. She knew her distance, and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her infinite cunning with her modern grace Subdu'd me to her rate. She got the ring; And I had that which any inferior might At market-price have bought. DIANA. I must be patient. You that have turn'd off a first so noble wife May justly diet me. I pray you yet- Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband- Send for your ring, I will return it home, And give me mine again. BERTRAM. I have it not. KING. What ring was yours, I pray you? DIANA. Sir, much like The same upon your finger. KING. Know you this ring? This ring was his of late. DIANA. And this was it I gave him, being abed. KING. The story, then, goes false you threw it him Out of a casement. DIANA. I have spoke the truth. Enter PAROLLES BERTRAM. My lord, I do confess the ring was hers. KING. You boggle shrewdly; every feather starts you. Is this the man you speak of? DIANA. Ay, my lord. KING. Tell me, sirrah-but tell me true I charge you, Not fearing the displeasure of your master, Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off- By him and by this woman here what know you? PAROLLES. So please your Majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. KING. Come, come, to th' purpose. Did he love this woman? PAROLLES. Faith, sir, he did love her; but how? KING. How, I pray you? PAROLLES. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a woman. KING. How is that? PAROLLES. He lov'd her, sir, and lov'd her not. KING. As thou art a knave and no knave. What an equivocal companion is this! PAROLLES. I am a poor man, and at your Majesty's command. LAFEU. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty orator. DIANA. Do you know he promis'd me marriage? PAROLLES. Faith, I know more than I'll speak. KING. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? PAROLLES. Yes, so please your Majesty. I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her-for indeed he was mad for her, and talk'd of Satan, and of Limbo, and of Furies, and I know not what. Yet I was in that credit with them at that time that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things which would derive me ill will to speak of; therefore I will not speak what I know. KING. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married; but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside. This ring, you say, was yours? DIANA. Ay, my good lord. KING. Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you? DIANA. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. KING. Who lent it you? DIANA. It was not lent me neither. KING. Where did you find it then? DIANA. I found it not. KING. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? DIANA. I never gave it him. LAFEU. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes of and on at pleasure. KING. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. DIANA. It might be yours or hers, for aught I know. KING. Take her away, I do not like her now; To prison with her. And away with him. Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour. DIANA. I'll never tell you. KING. Take her away. DIANA. I'll put in bail, my liege. KING. I think thee now some common customer. DIANA. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you. KING. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this while? DIANA. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty. He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't: I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not. Great King, I am no strumpet, by my life; I am either maid, or else this old man's wife. [Pointing to LAFEU] KING. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her. DIANA. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal sir; Exit WIDOW The jeweller that owes the ring is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord Who hath abus'd me as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him. He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd; And at that time he got his wife with child. Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick; So there's my riddle: one that's dead is quick- And now behold the meaning. Re-enter WIDOW with HELENA KING. Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes? Is't real that I see? HELENA. No, my good lord; 'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, The name and not the thing. BERTRAM. Both, both; o, pardon! HELENA. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid, I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, And, look you, here's your letter. This it says: 'When from my finger you can get this ring, And are by me with child,' etc. This is done. Will you be mine now you are doubly won? BERTRAM. If she, my liege, can make me know this clearly, I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. HELENA. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you! O my dear mother, do I see you living? LAFEU. Mine eyes smell onions; I shall weep anon. [To PAROLLES] Good Tom Drum, lend me a handkercher. So, I thank thee. Wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee; let thy curtsies alone, they are scurvy ones. KING. Let us from point to point this story know, To make the even truth in pleasure flow. [To DIANA] If thou beest yet a fresh uncropped flower, Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower; For I can guess that by thy honest aid Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.- Of that and all the progress, more and less, Resolvedly more leisure shall express. All yet seems well; and if it end so meet, The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish] EPILOGUE EPILOGUE. KING. The King's a beggar, now the play is done. All is well ended if this suit be won, That you express content; which we will pay With strife to please you, day exceeding day. Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. Exeunt omnes -THE END- 1607 THE TRAGEDY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA by William Shakespeare DRAMATIS PERSONAE MARK ANTONY, Triumvirs OCTAVIUS CAESAR, " M. AEMILIUS LEPIDUS, " SEXTUS POMPEIUS, " DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, friend to Antony VENTIDIUS, " " " EROS, " " " SCARUS, " " " DERCETAS, " " " DEMETRIUS, " " " PHILO, " " " MAECENAS, friend to Caesar AGRIPPA, " " " DOLABELLA, " " " PROCULEIUS, " " " THYREUS, " " " GALLUS, " " " MENAS, friend to Pompey MENECRATES, " " " VARRIUS, " " " TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Antony SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius's army EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from Antony to Caesar ALEXAS, attendant on Cleopatra MARDIAN, " " " SELEUCUS, " " " DIOMEDES, " " " A SOOTHSAYER A CLOWN CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar and wife to Antony CHARMIAN, lady attending on Cleopatra IRAS, " " " " Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants SCENE: The Roman Empire ACT I. SCENE I. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO PHILO. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn, The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front. His captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper, And is become the bellows and the fan To cool a gipsy's lust. Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her LADIES, the train, with eunuchs fanning her Look where they come! Take but good note, and you shall see in him The triple pillar of the world transform'd Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see. CLEOPATRA. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd. CLEOPATRA. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. ANTONY. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. Enter a MESSENGER MESSENGER. News, my good lord, from Rome. ANTONY. Grates me the sum. CLEOPATRA. Nay, hear them, Antony. Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His pow'rful mandate to you: 'Do this or this; Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that; Perform't, or else we damn thee.' ANTONY. How, my love? CLEOPATRA. Perchance? Nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? Both? Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's Queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Caesar's homager. Else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds. The messengers! ANTONY. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life Is to do thus [emhracing], when such a mutual pair And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless. CLEOPATRA. Excellent falsehood! Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony Will be himself. ANTONY. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. Now for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let's not confound the time with conference harsh; There's not a minute of our lives should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport to-night? CLEOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors. ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen! Whom everything becomes- to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself in thee fair and admir'd. No messenger but thine, and all alone To-night we'll wander through the streets and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen; Last night you did desire it. Speak not to us. Exeunt ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with the train DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight? PHILO. Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony. DEMETRIUS. I am full sorry That he approves the common liar, who Thus speaks of him at Rome; but I will hope Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! Exeunt SCENE II. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a SOOTHSAYER CHARMIAN. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you prais'd so to th' Queen? O that I knew this husband, which you say must charge his horns with garlands! ALEXAS. Soothsayer! SOOTHSAYER. Your will? CHARMIAN. Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things? SOOTHSAYER. In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read. ALEXAS. Show him your hand. Enter ENOBARBUS ENOBARBUS. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough Cleopatra's health to drink. CHARMIAN. Good, sir, give me good fortune. SOOTHSAYER. I make not, but foresee. CHARMIAN. Pray, then, foresee me one. SOOTHSAYER. You shall be yet far fairer than you are. CHARMIAN. He means in flesh. IRAS. No, you shall paint when you are old. CHARMIAN. Wrinkles forbid! ALEXAS. Vex not his prescience; be attentive. CHARMIAN. Hush! SOOTHSAYER. You shall be more beloving than beloved. CHARMIAN. I had rather heat my liver with drinking. ALEXAS. Nay, hear him. CHARMIAN. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all. Let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage. Find me to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my mistress. SOOTHSAYER. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. CHARMIAN. O, excellent! I love long life better than figs. SOOTHSAYER. You have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach. CHARMIAN. Then belike my children shall have no names. Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have? SOOTHSAYER. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million. CHARMIAN. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. ALEXAS. You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. CHARMIAN. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. ALEXAS. We'll know all our fortunes. ENOBARBUS. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be- drunk to bed. IRAS. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. CHARMIAN. E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine. IRAS. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. CHARMIAN. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but worky-day fortune. SOOTHSAYER. Your fortunes are alike. IRAS. But how, but how? Give me particulars. SOOTHSAYER. I have said. IRAS. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? CHARMIAN. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? IRAS. Not in my husband's nose. CHARMIAN. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas- come, his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a worse! And let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fiftyfold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee! IRAS. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man loose-wiv'd, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly! CHARMIAN. Amen. ALEXAS. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores but they'ld do't! Enter CLEOPATRA ENOBARBUS. Hush! Here comes Antony. CHARMIAN. Not he; the Queen. CLEOPATRA. Saw you my lord? ENOBARBUS. No, lady. CLEOPATRA. Was he not here? CHARMIAN. No, madam. CLEOPATRA. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus! ENOBARBUS. Madam? CLEOPATRA. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alexas? ALEXAS. Here, at your service. My lord approaches. Enter ANTONY, with a MESSENGER and attendants CLEOPATRA. We will not look upon him. Go with us. Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, and the rest MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. ANTONY. Against my brother Lucius? MESSENGER. Ay. But soon that war had end, and the time's state Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them. ANTONY. Well, what worst? MESSENGER. The nature of bad news infects the teller. ANTONY. When it concerns the fool or coward. On! Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd. MESSENGER. Labienus- This is stiff news- hath with his Parthian force Extended Asia from Euphrates, His conquering banner shook from Syria To Lydia and to Ionia, Whilst- ANTONY. Antony, thou wouldst say. MESSENGER. O, my lord! ANTONY. Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue; Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome. Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults With such full licence as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. MESSENGER. At your noble pleasure. Exit ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there! FIRST ATTENDANT. The man from Sicyon- is there such an one? SECOND ATTENDANT. He stays upon your will. ANTONY. Let him appear. These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage. Enter another MESSENGER with a letter What are you? SECOND MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead. ANTONY. Where died she? SECOND MESSENGER. In Sicyon. Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives the letter] ANTONY. Forbear me. Exit MESSENGER There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it. What our contempts doth often hurl from us We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, By revolution low'ring, does become The opposite of itself. She's good, being gone; The hand could pluck her back that shov'd her on. I must from this enchanting queen break off. Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus! Re-enter ENOBARBUS ENOBARBUS. What's your pleasure, sir? ANTONY. I must with haste from hence. ENOBARBUS. Why, then we kill all our women. We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word. ANTONY. I must be gone. ENOBARBUS. Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. ANTONY. She is cunning past man's thought. ENOBARBUS. Alack, sir, no! Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a show'r of rain as well as Jove. ANTONY. Would I had never seen her! ENOBARBUS. O Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel. ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS. Sir? ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS. Fulvia? ANTONY. Dead. ENOBARBUS. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein that when old robes are worn out there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented. This grief is crown'd with consolation: your old smock brings forth a new petticoat; and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow. ANTONY. The business she hath broached in the state Cannot endure my absence. ENOBARBUS. And the business you have broach'd here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode. ANTONY. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the Queen, And get her leave to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters to Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands The empire of the sea; our slippery people, Whose love is never link'd to the deserver Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the Great and all his dignities Upon his son; who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. ENOBARBUS. I shall do't. Exeunt SCENE III. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS CLEOPATRA. Where is he? CHARMIAN. I did not see him since. CLEOPATRA. See where he is, who's with him, what he does. I did not send you. If you find him sad, Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return. Exit ALEXAS CHARMIAN. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him. CLEOPATRA. What should I do I do not? CHARMIAN. In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing. CLEOPATRA. Thou teachest like a fool- the way to lose him. CHARMIAN. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear. Enter ANTONY But here comes Antony. CLEOPATRA. I am sick and sullen. ANTONY. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose- CLEOPATRA. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall. It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature Will not sustain it. ANTONY. Now, my dearest queen- CLEOPATRA. Pray you, stand farther from me. ANTONY. What's the matter? CLEOPATRA. I know by that same eye there's some good news. What says the married woman? You may go. Would she had never given you leave to come! Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here- I have no power upon you; hers you are. ANTONY. The gods best know- CLEOPATRA. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet at the first I saw the treasons planted. ANTONY. Cleopatra- CLEOPATRA. Why should I think you can be mine and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing! ANTONY. Most sweet queen- CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go. When you sued staying, Then was the time for words. No going then! Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows' bent, none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven. They are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar. ANTONY. How now, lady! CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt. ANTONY. Hear me, queen: The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile; but my full heart Remains in use with you. Our Italy Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome; Equality of two domestic powers Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love. The condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace Into the hearts of such as have not thrived Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change. My more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fulvia's death. CLEOPATRA. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die? ANTONY. She's dead, my Queen. Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read The garboils she awak'd. At the last, best. See when and where she died. CLEOPATRA. O most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd shall be. ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, As you shall give th' advice. By the fire That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war As thou affects. CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come! But let it be; I am quickly ill and well- So Antony loves. ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear, And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me. I prithee turn aside and weep for her; Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it look Like perfect honour. ANTONY. You'll heat my blood; no more. CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. ANTONY. Now, by my sword- CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends; But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe. ANTONY. I'll leave you, lady. CLEOPATRA. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part- but that's not it. Sir, you and I have lov'd- but there's not it. That you know well. Something it is I would- O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten! ANTONY. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself. CLEOPATRA. 'Tis sweating labour To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; Since my becomings kill me when they do not Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword Sit laurel victory, and smooth success Be strew'd before your feet! ANTONY. Let us go. Come. Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away! Exeunt SCENE IV. Rome. CAESAR'S house Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter; LEPIDUS, and their train CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners. You shall find there A man who is the abstract of all faults That all men follow. LEPIDUS. I must not think there are Evils enow to darken all his goodness. His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change Than what he chooses. CAESAR. You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him- As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish- yet must Antony No way excuse his foils when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for't! But to confound such time That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud As his own state and ours- 'tis to be chid As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment. Enter a MESSENGER LEPIDUS. Here's more news. MESSENGER. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea, And it appears he is belov'd of those That only have fear'd Caesar. To the ports The discontents repair, and men's reports Give him much wrong'd. CAESAR. I should have known no less. It hath been taught us from the primal state That he which is was wish'd until he were; And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love, Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion. MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads They make in Italy; the borders maritime Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt. No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more Than could his war resisted. CAESAR. Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink The stale of horses and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou brows'd. On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on. And all this- It wounds thine honour that I speak it now- Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek So much as lank'd not. LEPIDUS. 'Tis pity of him. CAESAR. Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i' th' field; and to that end Assemble we immediate council. Pompey Thrives in our idleness. LEPIDUS. To-morrow, Caesar, I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able To front this present time. CAESAR. Till which encounter It is my business too. Farewell. LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. CAESAR. Doubt not, sir; I knew it for my bond. Exeunt SCENE V. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN CLEOPATRA. Charmian! CHARMIAN. Madam? CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora. CHARMIAN. Why, madam? CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away. CHARMIAN. You think of him too much. CLEOPATRA. O, 'tis treason! CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust, not so. CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian! MARDIAN. What's your Highness' pleasure? CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam. CLEOPATRA. Indeed? MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done. Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. CLEOPATRA. O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?' For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect and die With looking on his life. Enter ALEXAS ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail! CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath With his tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear Queen, He kiss'd- the last of many doubled kisses- This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence. ALEXAS. 'Good friend,' quoth he 'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East, Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded, And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumb'd by him. CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry? ALEXAS. Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry. CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition! Note him, Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him! He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both. O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts? ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick? CLEOPATRA. Who's born that day When I forget to send to Antony Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, Ever love Caesar so? CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar! CLEOPATRA. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! Say 'the brave Antony.' CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar! CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men. CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. CLEOPATRA. My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But come, away! Get me ink and paper. He shall have every day a several greeting, Or I'll unpeople Egypt. Exeunt ACT II. SCENE I. Messina. POMPEY'S house Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in warlike manner POMPEY. If the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men. MENECRATES. Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay they not deny. POMPEY. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays The thing we sue for. MENECRATES. We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise pow'rs Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers. POMPEY. I shall do well. The people love me, and the sea is mine; My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him. MENAS. Caesar and Lepidus Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry. POMPEY. Where have you this? 'Tis false. MENAS. From Silvius, sir. POMPEY. He dreams. I know they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip! Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both; Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, Keep his brain fuming. Epicurean cooks Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite, That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour Even till a Lethe'd dullness- Enter VARRIUS How now, Varrius! VARRIUS. This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected. Since he went from Egypt 'tis A space for farther travel. POMPEY. I could have given less matter A better ear. Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm For such a petty war; his soldiership Is twice the other twain. But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony. MENAS. I cannot hope Caesar and Antony shall well greet together. His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar; His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think, Not mov'd by Antony. POMPEY. I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves; For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords. But how the fear of us May cement their divisions, and bind up The petty difference we yet not know. Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. Come, Menas. Exeunt SCENE II. Rome. The house of LEPIDUS Enter ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS LEPIDUS. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech. ENOBARBUS. I shall entreat him To answer like himself. If Caesar move him, Let Antony look over Caesar's head And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard, I would not shave't to-day. LEPIDUS. 'Tis not a time For private stomaching. ENOBARBUS. Every time Serves for the matter that is then born in't. LEPIDUS. But small to greater matters must give way. ENOBARBUS. Not if the small come first. LEPIDUS. Your speech is passion; But pray you stir no embers up. Here comes The noble Antony. Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS ENOBARBUS. And yonder, Caesar. Enter CAESAR, MAECENAS, and AGRIPPA ANTONY. If we compose well here, to Parthia. Hark, Ventidius. CAESAR. I do not know, Maecenas. Ask Agrippa. LEPIDUS. Noble friends, That which combin'd us was most great, and let not A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, May it be gently heard. When we debate Our trivial difference loud, we do commit Murder in healing wounds. Then, noble partners, The rather for I earnestly beseech, Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, Nor curstness grow to th' matter. ANTONY. 'Tis spoken well. Were we before our arinies, and to fight, I should do thus. [Flourish] CAESAR. Welcome to Rome. ANTONY. Thank you. CAESAR. Sit. ANTONY. Sit, sir. CAESAR. Nay, then. [They sit] ANTONY. I learn you take things ill which are not so, Or being, concern you not. CAESAR. I must be laugh'd at If, or for nothing or a little, Should say myself offended, and with you Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at that I should Once name you derogately when to sound your name It not concern'd me. ANTONY. My being in Egypt, Caesar, What was't to you? CAESAR. No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt. Yet, if you there Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question. ANTONY. How intend you- practis'd? CAESAR. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother Made wars upon me, and their contestation Was theme for you; you were the word of war. ANTONY. You do mistake your business; my brother never Did urge me in his act. I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather Discredit my authority with yours, And make the wars alike against my stomach, Having alike your cause? Of this my letters Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel, As matter whole you have not to make it with, It must not be with this. CAESAR. You praise yourself By laying defects of judgment to me; but You patch'd up your excuses. ANTONY. Not so, not so; I know you could not lack, I am certain on't, Very necessity of this thought, that I, Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another! The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife. ENOBARBUS. Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women! ANTONY. So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar, Made out of her impatience- which not wanted Shrewdness of policy too- I grieving grant Did you too much disquiet. For that you must But say I could not help it. CAESAR. I wrote to you When rioting in Alexandria; you Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts Did gibe my missive out of audience. ANTONY. Sir, He fell upon me ere admitted. Then Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i' th' morning; but next day I told him of myself, which was as much As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, Out of our question wipe him. CAESAR. You have broken The article of your oath, which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with. LEPIDUS. Soft, Caesar! ANTONY. No; Lepidus, let him speak. The honour is sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lack'd it. But on, Caesar: The article of my oath- CAESAR. To lend me arms and aid when I requir'd them, The which you both denied. ANTONY. Neglected, rather; And then when poisoned hours had bound me up From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, I'll play the penitent to you; but mine honesty Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia, To have me out of Egypt, made wars here; For which myself, the ignorant motive, do So far ask pardon as befits mine honour To stoop in such a case. LEPIDUS. 'Tis noble spoken. MAECENAS. If it might please you to enforce no further The griefs between ye- to forget them quite Were to remember that the present need Speaks to atone you. LEPIDUS. Worthily spoken, Maecenas. ENOBARBUS. Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again. You shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to do. ANTONY. Thou art a soldier only. Speak no more. ENOBARBUS. That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. ANTONY. You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more. ENOBARBUS. Go to, then- your considerate stone! CAESAR. I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech; for't cannot be We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So diff'ring in their acts. Yet if I knew What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge O' th' world, I would pursue it. AGRIPPA. Give me leave, Caesar. CAESAR. Speak, Agrippa. AGRIPPA. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, Admir'd Octavia. Great Mark Antony Is now a widower. CAESAR. Say not so, Agrippa. If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof Were well deserv'd of rashness. ANTONY. I am not married, Caesar. Let me hear Agrippa further speak. AGRIPPA. To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men; Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales, Where now half tales be truths. Her love to both Would each to other, and all loves to both, Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, By duty ruminated. ANTONY. Will Caesar speak? CAESAR. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd With what is spoke already. ANTONY. What power is in Agrippa, If I would say 'Agrippa, be it so,' To make this good? CAESAR. The power of Caesar, and His power unto Octavia. ANTONY. May I never To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand. Further this act of grace; and from this hour The heart of brothers govern in our loves And sway our great designs! CAESAR. There is my hand. A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother Did ever love so dearly. Let her live To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never Fly off our loves again! LEPIDUS. Happily, amen! ANTONY. I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey; For he hath laid strange courtesies and great Of late upon me. I must thank him only, Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; At heel of that, defy him. LEPIDUS. Time calls upon's. Of us must Pompey presently be sought, Or else he seeks out us. ANTONY. Where lies he? CAESAR. About the Mount Misenum. ANTONY. What is his strength by land? CAESAR. Great and increasing; but by sea He is an absolute master. ANTONY. So is the fame. Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it. Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we The business we have talk'd of. CAESAR. With most gladness; And do invite you to my sister's view, Whither straight I'll lead you. ANTONY. Let us, Lepidus, Not lack your company. LEPIDUS. Noble Antony, Not sickness should detain me. [Flourish] Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS, AGRIPPA, MAECENAS MAECENAS. Welcome from Egypt, sir. ENOBARBUS. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas! My honourable friend, Agrippa! AGRIPPA. Good Enobarbus! MAECENAS. We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stay'd well by't in Egypt. ENOBARBUS. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance and made the night light with drinking. MAECENAS. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there. Is this true? ENOBARBUS. This was but as a fly by an eagle. We had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. MAECENAS. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. ENOBARBUS. When she first met Mark Antony she purs'd up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. AGRIPPA. There she appear'd indeed! Or my reporter devis'd well for her. ENOBARBUS. I will tell you. The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water. The poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description. She did lie In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold, of tissue, O'erpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy out-work nature. On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. AGRIPPA. O, rare for Antony! ENOBARBUS. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the helm A seeming mermaid steers. The silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthron'd i' th' market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to th' air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature. AGRIPPA. Rare Egyptian! ENOBARBUS. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper. She replied It should be better he became her guest; Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak, Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast, And for his ordinary pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. AGRIPPA. Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed. He ploughed her, and she cropp'd. ENOBARBUS. I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street; And, having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, pow'r breathe forth. MAECENAS. Now Antony must leave her utterly. ENOBARBUS. Never! He will not. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies; for vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. MAECENAS. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is A blessed lottery to him. AGRIPPA. Let us go. Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest Whilst you abide here. ENOBARBUS. Humbly, sir, I thank you. Exeunt SCENE III. Rome. CAESAR'S house Enter ANTONY, CAESAR, OCTAVIA between them ANTONY. The world and my great office will sometimes Divide me from your bosom. OCTAVIA. All which time Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers To them for you. ANTONY. Good night, sir. My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world's report. I have not kept my square; but that to come Shall all be done by th' rule. Good night, dear lady. OCTAVIA. Good night, sir. CAESAR. Good night. Exeunt CAESAR and OCTAVIA Enter SOOTHSAYER ANTONY. Now, sirrah, you do wish yourself in Egypt? SOOTHSAYER. Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither! ANTONY. If you can- your reason. SOOTHSAYER. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue; but yet hie you to Egypt again. ANTONY. Say to me, Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine? SOOTHSAYER. Caesar's. Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side. Thy daemon, that thy spirit which keeps thee, is Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, Where Caesar's is not; but near him thy angel Becomes a fear, as being o'erpow'r'd. Therefore Make space enough between you. ANTONY. Speak this no more. SOOTHSAYER. To none but thee; no more but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck He beats thee 'gainst the odds. Thy lustre thickens When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit Is all afraid to govern thee near him; But, he away, 'tis noble. ANTONY. Get thee gone. Say to Ventidius I would speak with him. Exit SOOTHSAYER He shall to Parthia.- Be it art or hap, He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him; And in our sports my better cunning faints Under his chance. If we draw lots, he speeds; His cocks do win the battle still of mine, When it is all to nought, and his quails ever Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt; And though I make this marriage for my peace, I' th' East my pleasure lies. Enter VENTIDIUS O, come, Ventidius, You must to Parthia. Your commission's ready; Follow me and receive't. Exeunt SCENE IV. Rome. A street Enter LEPIDUS, MAECENAS, and AGRIPPA LEPIDUS. Trouble yourselves no further. Pray you hasten Your generals after. AGRIPPA. Sir, Mark Antony Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow. LEPIDUS. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, Which will become you both, farewell. MAECENAS. We shall, As I conceive the journey, be at th' Mount Before you, Lepidus. LEPIDUS. Your way is shorter; My purposes do draw me much about. You'll win two days upon me. BOTH. Sir, good success! LEPIDUS. Farewell. Exeunt SCENE V. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS CLEOPATRA. Give me some music- music, moody food Of us that trade in love. ALL. The music, ho! Enter MARDIAN the eunuch CLEOPATRA. Let it alone! Let's to billiards. Come, Charmian. CHARMIAN. My arm is sore; best play with Mardian. CLEOPATRA. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir? MARDIAN. As well as I can, madam. CLEOPATRA. And when good will is show'd, though't come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now. Give me mine angle- we'll to th' river. There, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and as I draw them up I'll think them every one an Antony, And say 'Ah ha! Y'are caught.' CHARMIAN. 'Twas merry when You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up. CLEOPATRA. That time? O times I laughed him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan. Enter a MESSENGER O! from Italy? Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, That long time have been barren. MESSENGER. Madam, madam- CLEOPATRA. Antony's dead! If thou say so, villain, Thou kill'st thy mistress; but well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss- a hand that kings Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. MESSENGER. First, madam, he is well. CLEOPATRA. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark, we use To say the dead are well. Bring it to that, The gold I give thee will I melt and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat. MESSENGER. Good madam, hear me. CLEOPATRA. Well, go to, I will. But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony Be free and healthful- why so tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings? If not well, Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes, Not like a formal man. MESSENGER. Will't please you hear me? CLEOPATRA. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st. Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee. MESSENGER. Madam, he's well. CLEOPATRA. Well said. MESSENGER. And friends with Caesar. CLEOPATRA. Th'art an honest man. MESSENGER. Caesar and he are greater friends than ever. CLEOPATRA. Make thee a fortune from me. MESSENGER. But yet, madam- CLEOPATRA. I do not like 'but yet.' It does allay The good precedence; fie upon 'but yet'! 'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together. He's friends with Caesar; In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free. MESSENGER. Free, madam! No; I made no such report. He's bound unto Octavia. CLEOPATRA. For what good turn? MESSENGER. For the best turn i' th' bed. CLEOPATRA. I am pale, Charmian. MESSENGER. Madam, he's married to Octavia. CLEOPATRA. The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down] MESSENGER. Good madam, patience. CLEOPATRA. What say you? Hence, [Strikes him] Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; [She hales him up and down] Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire and stew'd in brine, Smarting in ling'ring pickle. MESSENGER. Gracious madam, I that do bring the news made not the match. CLEOPATRA. Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee, And make thy fortunes proud. The blow thou hadst Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage; And I will boot thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg. MESSENGER. He's married, madam. CLEOPATRA. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a knife] MESSENGER. Nay, then I'll run. What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. Exit CHARMIAN. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself: The man is innocent. CLEOPATRA. Some innocents scape not the thunderbolt. Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again. Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call! CHARMIAN. He is afear'd to come. CLEOPATRA. I will not hurt him. These hands do lack nobility, that they strike A meaner than myself; since I myself Have given myself the cause. Enter the MESSENGER again Come hither, sir. Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt. MESSENGER. I have done my duty. CLEOPATRA. Is he married? I cannot hate thee worser than I do If thou again say 'Yes.' MESSENGER. He's married, madam. CLEOPATRA. The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still? MESSENGER. Should I lie, madam? CLEOPATRA. O, I would thou didst, So half my Egypt were submerg'd and made A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence. Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? MESSENGER. I crave your Highness' pardon. CLEOPATRA. He is married? MESSENGER. Take no offence that I would not offend you; To punish me for what you make me do Seems much unequal. He's married to Octavia. CLEOPATRA. O, that his fault should make a knave of thee That art not what th'art sure of! Get thee hence. The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome Are all too dear for me. Lie they upon thy hand, And be undone by 'em! Exit MESSENGER CHARMIAN. Good your Highness, patience. CLEOPATRA. In praising Antony I have disprais'd Caesar. CHARMIAN. Many times, madam. CLEOPATRA. I am paid for't now. Lead me from hence, I faint. O Iras, Charmian! 'Tis no matter. Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him Report the feature of Octavia, her years, Her inclination; let him not leave out The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly. Exit ALEXAS Let him for ever go- let him not, Charmian- Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other way's a Mars. [To MARDIAN] Bid you Alexas Bring me word how tall she is.- Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber. Exeunt SCENE VI. Near Misenum Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door, with drum and trumpet; at another, CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, ENOBARBUS, MAECENAS, AGRIPPA, with soldiers marching POMPEY. Your hostages I have, so have you mine; And we shall talk before we fight. CAESAR. Most meet That first we come to words; and therefore have we Our written purposes before us sent; Which if thou hast considered, let us know If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword And carry back to Sicily much tall youth That else must perish here. POMPEY. To you all three, The senators alone of this great world, Chief factors for the gods: I do not know Wherefore my father should revengers want, Having a son and friends, since Julius Caesar, Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him. What was't That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? and what Made the all-honour'd honest Roman, Brutus, With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol, but that they would Have one man but a man? And that is it Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome Cast on my noble father. CAESAR. Take your time. ANTONY. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails; We'll speak with thee at sea; at land thou know'st How much we do o'er-count thee. POMPEY. At land, indeed, Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house. But since the cuckoo builds not for himself, Remain in't as thou mayst. LEPIDUS. Be pleas'd to tell us- For this is from the present- how you take The offers we have sent you. CAESAR. There's the point. ANTONY. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh What it is worth embrac'd. CAESAR. And what may follow, To try a larger fortune. POMPEY. You have made me offer Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must Rid all the sea of pirates; then to send Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon, To part with unhack'd edges and bear back Our targes undinted. ALL. That's our offer. POMPEY. Know, then, I came before you here a man prepar'd To take this offer; but Mark Antony Put me to some impatience. Though I lose The praise of it by telling, you must know, When Caesar and your brother were at blows, Your mother came to Sicily and did find Her welcome friendly. ANTONY. I have heard it, Pompey, And am well studied for a liberal thanks Which I do owe you. POMPEY. Let me have your hand. I did not think, sir, to have met you here. ANTONY. The beds i' th' East are soft; and thanks to you, That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither; For I have gained by't. CAESAR. Since I saw you last There is a change upon you. POMPEY. Well, I know not What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; But in my bosom shall she never come To make my heart her vassal. LEPIDUS. Well met here. POMPEY. I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed. I crave our composition may be written, And seal'd between us. CAESAR. That's the next to do. POMPEY. We'll feast each other ere we part, and let's Draw lots who shall begin. ANTONY. That will I, Pompey. POMPEY. No, Antony, take the lot; But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar Grew fat with feasting there. ANTONY. You have heard much. POMPEY. I have fair meanings, sir. ANTONY. And fair words to them. POMPEY. Then so much have I heard; And I have heard Apollodorus carried- ENOBARBUS. No more of that! He did so. POMPEY. What, I pray you? ENOBARBUS. A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress. POMPEY. I know thee now. How far'st thou, soldier? ENOBARBUS. Well; And well am like to do, for I perceive Four feasts are toward. POMPEY. Let me shake thy hand. I never hated thee; I have seen thee fight, When I have envied thy behaviour. ENOBARBUS. Sir, I never lov'd you much; but I ha' prais'd ye When you have well deserv'd ten times as much As I have said you did. POMPEY. Enjoy thy plainness; It nothing ill becomes thee. Aboard my galley I invite you all. Will you lead, lords? ALL. Show's the way, sir. POMPEY. Come. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS and MENAS MENAS. [Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this treaty.- You and I have known, sir. ENOBARBUS. At sea, I think. MENAS. We have, sir. ENOBARBUS. You have done well by water. MENAS. And you by land. ENOBARBUS. I Will praise any man that will praise me; though it cannot be denied what I have done by land. MENAS. Nor what I have done by water. ENOBARBUS. Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great thief by sea. MENAS. And you by land. ENOBARBUS. There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas; if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing. MENAS. All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are. ENOBARBUS. But there is never a fair woman has a true face. MENAS. No slander: they steal hearts. ENOBARBUS. We came hither to fight with you. MENAS. For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune. ENOBARBUS. If he do, sure he cannot weep't back again. MENAS. Y'have said, sir. We look'd not for Mark Antony here. Pray you, is he married to Cleopatra? ENOBARBUS. Caesar' sister is call'd Octavia. MENAS. True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus. ENOBARBUS. But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius. MENAS. Pray ye, sir? ENOBARBUS. 'Tis true. MENAS. Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together. ENOBARBUS. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so. MENAS. I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties. ENOBARBUS. I think so too. But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation. MENAS. Who would not have his wife so? ENOBARBUS. Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again; then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar, and, as I said before, that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is; he married but his occasion here. MENAS. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard? I have a health for you. ENOBARBUS. I shall take it, sir. We have us'd our throats in Egypt. MENAS. Come, let's away. Exeunt SCENE VII. On board POMPEY'S galley, off Misenum Music plays. Enter two or three SERVANTS with a banquet FIRST SERVANT. Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are ill-rooted already; the least wind i' th' world will blow them down. SECOND SERVANT. Lepidus is high-colour'd. FIRST SERVANT. They have made him drink alms-drink. SECOND SERVANT. As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out 'No more!'; reconciles them to his entreaty and himself to th' drink. FIRST SERVANT. But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion. SECOND SERVANT. Why, this it is to have a name in great men's fellowship. I had as lief have a reed that will do me no service as a partizan I could not heave. FIRST SERVANT. To be call'd into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks. A sennet sounded. Enter CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MAECENAS, ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other CAPTAINS ANTONY. [To CAESAR] Thus do they, sir: they take the flow o' th' Nile By certain scales i' th' pyramid; they know By th' height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth Or foison follow. The higher Nilus swells The more it promises; as it ebbs, the seedsman Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, And shortly comes to harvest. LEPIDUS. Y'have strange serpents there. ANTONY. Ay, Lepidus. LEPIDUS. Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun; so is your crocodile. ANTONY. They are so. POMPEY. Sit- and some wine! A health to Lepidus! LEPIDUS. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out. ENOBARBUS. Not till you have slept. I fear me you'll be in till then. LEPIDUS. Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises are very goodly things. Without contradiction I have heard that. MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] Pompey, a word. POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] Say in mine ear; what is't? MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, Captain, And hear me speak a word. POMPEY. [ Whispers in's ear ] Forbear me till anon- This wine for Lepidus! LEPIDUS. What manner o' thing is your crocodile? ANTONY. It is shap'd, sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with it own organs. It lives by that which nourisheth it, and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates. LEPIDUS. What colour is it of? ANTONY. Of it own colour too. LEPIDUS. 'Tis a strange serpent. ANTONY. 'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet. CAESAR. Will this description satisfy him? ANTONY. With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a very epicure. POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] Go, hang, sir, hang! Tell me of that! Away! Do as I bid you.- Where's this cup I call'd for? MENAS. [Aside to POMPEY] If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me, Rise from thy stool. POMPEY. [Aside to MENAS] I think th'art mad. [Rises and walks aside] The matter? MENAS. I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. POMPEY. Thou hast serv'd me with much faith. What's else to say?- Be jolly, lords. ANTONY. These quicksands, Lepidus, Keep off them, for you sink. MENAS. Wilt thou be lord of all the world? POMPEY. What say'st thou? MENAS. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice. POMPEY. How should that be? MENAS. But entertain it, And though you think me poor, I am the man Will give thee all the world. POMPEY. Hast thou drunk well? MENAS. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove; Whate'er the ocean pales or sky inclips Is thine, if thou wilt ha't. POMPEY. Show me which way. MENAS. These three world-sharers, these competitors, Are in thy vessel. Let me cut the cable; And when we are put off, fall to their throats. All there is thine. POMPEY. Ah, this thou shouldst have done, And not have spoke on't. In me 'tis villainy: In thee't had been good service. Thou must know 'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour: Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue Hath so betray'd thine act. Being done unknown, I should have found it afterwards well done, But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. MENAS. [Aside] For this, I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more. Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more. POMPEY. This health to Lepidus! ANTONY. Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey. ENOBARBUS. Here's to thee, Menas! MENAS. Enobarbus, welcome! POMPEY. Fill till the cup be hid. ENOBARBUS. There's a strong fellow, Menas. [Pointing to the servant who carries off LEPIDUS] MENAS. Why? ENOBARBUS. 'A bears the third part of the world, man; see'st not? MENAS. The third part, then, is drunk. Would it were all, That it might go on wheels! ENOBARBUS. Drink thou; increase the reels. MENAS. Come. POMPEY. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. ANTONY. It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho! Here's to Caesar! CAESAR. I could well forbear't. It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain And it grows fouler. ANTONY. Be a child o' th' time. CAESAR. Possess it, I'll make answer. But I had rather fast from all four days Than drink so much in one. ENOBARBUS. [To ANTONY] Ha, my brave emperor! Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals And celebrate our drink? POMPEY. Let's ha't, good soldier. ANTONY. Come, let's all take hands, Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense In soft and delicate Lethe. ENOBARBUS. All take hands. Make battery to our ears with the loud music, The while I'll place you; then the boy shall sing; The holding every man shall bear as loud As his strong sides can volley. [Music plays. ENOBARBUS places them hand in hand] THE SONG Come, thou monarch of the vine, Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne! In thy fats our cares be drown'd, With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd. Cup us till the world go round, Cup us till the world go round! CAESAR. What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother, Let me request you off; our graver business Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part; You see we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarb Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue Splits what it speaks. The wild disguise hath almost Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night. Good Antony, your hand. POMPEY. I'll try you on the shore. ANTONY. And shall, sir. Give's your hand. POMPEY. O Antony, You have my father's house- but what? We are friends. Come, down into the boat. ENOBARBUS. Take heed you fall not. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS and MENAS Menas, I'll not on shore. MENAS. No, to my cabin. These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what! Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell To these great fellows. Sound and be hang'd, sound out! [Sound a flourish, with drums] ENOBARBUS. Hoo! says 'a. There's my cap. MENAS. Hoo! Noble Captain, come. Exeunt ACT III. SCENE I. A plain in Syria Enter VENTIDIUS, as it were in triumph, with SILIUS and other Romans, OFFICERS and soldiers; the dead body of PACORUS borne before him VENTIDIUS. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck, and now Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death Make me revenger. Bear the King's son's body Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes, Pays this for Marcus Crassus. SILIUS. Noble Ventidius, Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media, Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither The routed fly. So thy grand captain, Antony, Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and Put garlands on thy head. VENTIDIUS. O Silius, Silius, I have done enough. A lower place, note well, May make too great an act; for learn this, Silius: Better to leave undone than by our deed Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away. Caesar and Antony have ever won More in their officer, than person. Sossius, One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant, For quick accumulation of renown, Which he achiev'd by th' minute, lost his favour. Who does i' th' wars more than his captain can Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition, The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss Than gain which darkens him. I could do more to do Antonius good, But 'twould offend him; and in his offence Should my performance perish. SILIUS. Thou hast, Ventidius, that Without the which a soldier and his sword Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony? VENTIDIUS. I'll humbly signify what in his name, That magical word of war, we have effected; How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks, The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia We have jaded out o' th' field. SILIUS. Where is he now? VENTIDIUS. He purposeth to Athens; whither, with what haste The weight we must convey with's will permit, We shall appear before him.- On, there; pass along. Exeunt SCENE II. Rome. CAESAR'S house Enter AGRIPPA at one door, ENOBARBUS at another AGRIPPA. What, are the brothers parted? ENOBARBUS. They have dispatch'd with Pompey; he is gone; The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus, Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the green sickness. AGRIPPA. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. ENOBARBUS. A very fine one. O, how he loves Caesar! AGRIPPA. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony! ENOBARBUS. Caesar? Why he's the Jupiter of men. AGRIPPA. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter. ENOBARBUS. Spake you of Caesar? How! the nonpareil! AGRIPPA. O, Antony! O thou Arabian bird! ENOBARBUS. Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar'- go no further. AGRIPPA. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises. ENOBARBUS. But he loves Caesar best. Yet he loves Antony. Hoo! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number- hoo!- His love to Antony. But as for Caesar, Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. AGRIPPA. Both he loves. ENOBARBUS. They are his shards, and he their beetle. [Trumpets within] So- This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa. AGRIPPA. Good fortune, worthy soldier, and farewell. Enter CAESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA ANTONY. No further, sir. CAESAR. You take from me a great part of myself; Use me well in't. Sister, prove such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest band Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony, Let not the piece of virtue which is set Betwixt us as the cement of our love To keep it builded be the ram to batter The fortress of it; for better might we Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts This be not cherish'd. ANTONY. Make me not offended In your distrust. CAESAR. I have said. ANTONY. You shall not find, Though you be therein curious, the least cause For what you seem to fear. So the gods keep you, And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends! We will here part. CAESAR. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee and make Thy spirits all of comfort! Fare thee well. OCTAVIA. My noble brother! ANTONY. The April's in her eyes. It is love's spring, And these the showers to bring it on. Be cheerful. OCTAVIA. Sir, look well to my husband's house; and- CAESAR. What, Octavia? OCTAVIA. I'll tell you in your ear. ANTONY. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue- the swan's down feather, That stands upon the swell at the full of tide, And neither way inclines. ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] Will Caesar weep? AGRIPPA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] He has a cloud in's face. ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] He were the worse for that, were he a horse; So is he, being a man. AGRIPPA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] Why, Enobarbus, When Antony found Julius Caesar dead, He cried almost to roaring; and he wept When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. ENOBARBUS. [Aside to AGRIPPA] That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum; What willingly he did confound he wail'd, Believe't- till I weep too. CAESAR. No, sweet Octavia, You shall hear from me still; the time shall not Out-go my thinking on you. ANTONY. Come, sir, come; I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love. Look, here I have you; thus I let you go, And give you to the gods. CAESAR. Adieu; be happy! LEPIDUS. Let all the number of the stars give light To thy fair way! CAESAR. Farewell, farewell! [Kisses OCTAVIA] ANTONY. Farewell! Trumpets sound. Exeunt SCENE III. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS CLEOPATRA. Where is the fellow? ALEXAS. Half afeard to come. CLEOPATRA. Go to, go to. Enter the MESSENGER as before Come hither, sir. ALEXAS. Good Majesty, Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you But when you are well pleas'd. CLEOPATRA. That Herod's head I'll have. But how, when Antony is gone, Through whom I might command it? Come thou near. MESSENGER. Most gracious Majesty! CLEOPATRA. Didst thou behold Octavia? MESSENGER. Ay, dread Queen. CLEOPATRA. Where? MESSENGER. Madam, in Rome I look'd her in the face, and saw her led Between her brother and Mark Antony. CLEOPATRA. Is she as tall as me? MESSENGER. She is not, madam. CLEOPATRA. Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongu'd or low? MESSENGER. Madam, I heard her speak: she is low-voic'd. CLEOPATRA. That's not so good. He cannot like her long. CHARMIAN. Like her? O Isis! 'tis impossible. CLEOPATRA. I think so, Charmian. Dull of tongue and dwarfish! What majesty is in her gait? Remember, If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. MESSENGER. She creeps. Her motion and her station are as one; She shows a body rather than a life, A statue than a breather. CLEOPATRA. Is this certain? MESSENGER. Or I have no observance. CHARMIAN. Three in Egypt Cannot make better note. CLEOPATRA. He's very knowing; I do perceive't. There's nothing in her yet. The fellow has good judgment. CHARMIAN. Excellent. CLEOPATRA. Guess at her years, I prithee. MESSENGER. Madam, She was a widow. CLEOPATRA. Widow? Charmian, hark! MESSENGER. And I do think she's thirty. CLEOPATRA. Bear'st thou her face in mind? Is't long or round? MESSENGER. Round even to faultiness. CLEOPATRA. For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so. Her hair, what colour? MESSENGER. Brown, madam; and her forehead As low as she would wish it. CLEOPATRA. There's gold for thee. Thou must not take my former sharpness ill. I will employ thee back again; I find thee Most fit for business. Go make thee ready; Our letters are prepar'd. Exeunt MESSENGER CHARMIAN. A proper man. CLEOPATRA. Indeed, he is so. I repent me much That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him, This creature's no such thing. CHARMIAN. Nothing, madam. CLEOPATRA. The man hath seen some majesty, and should know. CHARMIAN. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend, And serving you so long! CLEOPATRA. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian. But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me Where I will write. All may be well enough. CHARMIAN. I warrant you, madam. Exeunt SCENE IV. Athens. ANTONY'S house Enter ANTONY and OCTAVIA ANTONY. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that- That were excusable, that and thousands more Of semblable import- but he hath wag'd New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it To public ear; Spoke scandy of me; when perforce he could not But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly He vented them, most narrow measure lent me; When the best hint was given him, he not took't, Or did it from his teeth. OCTAVIA. O my good lord, Believe not all; or if you must believe, Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, If this division chance, ne'er stood between, Praying for both parts. The good gods will mock me presently When I shall pray 'O, bless my lord and husband!' Undo that prayer by crying out as loud 'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother, Prays, and destroys the prayer; no mid-way 'Twixt these extremes at all. ANTONY. Gentle Octavia, Let your best love draw to that point which seeks Best to preserve it. If I lose mine honour, I lose myself; better I were not yours Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested, Yourself shall go between's. The meantime, lady, I'll raise the preparation of a war Shall stain your brother. Make your soonest haste; So your desires are yours. OCTAVIA. Thanks to my lord. The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the rift. ANTONY. When it appears to you where this begins, Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults Can never be so equal that your love Can equally move with them. Provide your going; Choose your own company, and command what cost Your heart has mind to. Exeunt SCENE V. Athens. ANTONY'S house Enter ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting ENOBARBUS. How now, friend Eros! EROS. There's strange news come, sir. ENOBARBUS. What, man? EROS. Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. ENOBARBUS. This is old. What is the success? EROS. Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivality, would not let him partake in the glory of the action; and not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him. So the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. ENOBARBUS. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps- no more; And throw between them all the food thou hast, They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? EROS. He's walking in the garden- thus, and spurns The rush that lies before him; cries 'Fool Lepidus!' And threats the throat of that his officer That murd'red Pompey. ENOBARBUS. Our great navy's rigg'd. EROS. For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius: My lord desires you presently; my news I might have told hereafter. ENOBARBUS. 'Twill be naught; But let it be. Bring me to Antony. EROS. Come, sir. Exeunt SCENE VI. Rome. CAESAR'S house Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MAECENAS CAESAR. Contemning Rome, he has done all this and more In Alexandria. Here's the manner of't: I' th' market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold Were publicly enthron'd; at the feet sat Caesarion, whom they call my father's son, And all the unlawful issue that their lust Since then hath made between them. Unto her He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, Absolute queen. MAECENAS. This in the public eye? CAESAR. I' th' common show-place, where they exercise. His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings: Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia. She In th' habiliments of the goddess Isis That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience, As 'tis reported, so. MAECENAS. Let Rome be thus Inform'd. AGRIPPA. Who, queasy with his insolence Already, will their good thoughts call from him. CAESAR. The people knows it, and have now receiv'd His accusations. AGRIPPA. Who does he accuse? CAESAR. Caesar; and that, having in Sicily Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him His part o' th' isle. Then does he say he lent me Some shipping, unrestor'd. Lastly, he frets That Lepidus of the triumvirate Should be depos'd; and, being, that we detain All his revenue. AGRIPPA. Sir, this should be answer'd. CAESAR. 'Tis done already, and messenger gone. I have told him Lepidus was grown too cruel, That he his high authority abus'd, And did deserve his change. For what I have conquer'd I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, Demand the like. MAECENAS. He'll never yield to that. CAESAR. Nor must not then be yielded to in this. Enter OCTAVIA, with her train OCTAVIA. Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar! CAESAR. That ever I should call thee cast-away! OCTAVIA. You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause. CAESAR. Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You come not Like Caesar's sister. The wife of Antony Should have an army for an usher, and The neighs of horse to tell of her approach Long ere she did appear. The trees by th' way Should have borne men, and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, Rais'd by your populous troops. But you are come A market-maid to Rome, and have prevented The ostentation of our love, which left unshown Is often left unlov'd. We should have met you By sea and land, supplying every stage With an augmented greeting. OCTAVIA. Good my lord, To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony, Hearing that you prepar'd for war, acquainted My grieved ear withal; whereon I begg'd His pardon for return. CAESAR. Which soon he granted, Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him. OCTAVIA. Do not say so, my lord. CAESAR. I have eyes upon him, And his affairs come to me on the wind. Where is he now? OCTAVIA. My lord, in Athens. CAESAR. No, my most wronged sister: Cleopatra Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire Up to a whore, who now are levying The kings o' th' earth for war. He hath assembled Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; King Manchus of Arabia; King of Pont; Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas, The kings of Mede and Lycaonia, with More larger list of sceptres. OCTAVIA. Ay me most wretched, That have my heart parted betwixt two friends, That does afflict each other! CAESAR. Welcome hither. Your letters did withhold our breaking forth, Till we perceiv'd both how you were wrong led And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart; Be you not troubled with the time, which drives O'er your content these strong necessities, But let determin'd things to destiny Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome; Nothing more dear to me. You are abus'd Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods, To do you justice, make their ministers Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort, And ever welcome to us. AGRIPPA. Welcome, lady. MAECENAS. Welcome, dear madam. Each heart in Rome does love and pity you; Only th' adulterous Antony, most large In his abominations, turns you off, And gives his potent regiment to a trull That noises it against us. OCTAVIA. Is it so, sir? CAESAR. Most certain. Sister, welcome. Pray you Be ever known to patience. My dear'st sister! Exeunt SCENE VII. ANTONY'S camp near Actium Enter CLEOPATRA and ENOBARBUS CLEOPATRA. I will be even with thee, doubt it not. ENOBARBUS. But why, why, CLEOPATRA. Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars, And say'st it is not fit. ENOBARBUS. Well, is it, is it? CLEOPATRA. Is't not denounc'd against us? Why should not we Be there in person? ENOBARBUS. [Aside] Well, I could reply: If we should serve with horse and mares together The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear A soldier and his horse. CLEOPATRA. What is't you say? ENOBARBUS. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony; Take from his heart, take from his brain, from's time, What should not then be spar'd. He is already Traduc'd for levity; and 'tis said in Rome That Photinus an eunuch and your maids Manage this war. CLEOPATRA. Sink Rome, and their tongues rot That speak against us! A charge we bear i' th' war, And, as the president of my kingdom, will Appear there for a man. Speak not against it; I will not stay behind. Enter ANTONY and CANIDIUS ENOBARBUS. Nay, I have done. Here comes the Emperor. ANTONY. Is it not strange, Canidius, That from Tarentum and Brundusium He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, And take in Toryne?- You have heard on't, sweet? CLEOPATRA. Celerity is never more admir'd Than by the negligent. ANTONY. A good rebuke, Which might have well becom'd the best of men To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we Will fight with him by sea. CLEOPATRA. By sea! What else? CANIDIUS. Why will my lord do so? ANTONY. For that he dares us to't. ENOBARBUS. So hath my lord dar'd him to single fight. CANIDIUS. Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia, Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers, Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off; And so should you. ENOBARBUS. Your ships are not well mann'd; Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people Ingross'd by swift impress. In Caesar's fleet Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought; Their ships are yare; yours heavy. No disgrace Shall fall you for refusing him at sea, Being prepar'd for land. ANTONY. By sea, by sea. ENOBARBUS. Most worthy sir, you therein throw away The absolute soldiership you have by land; Distract your army, which doth most consist Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted Your own renowned knowledge; quite forgo The way which promises assurance; and Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard From firm security. ANTONY. I'll fight at sea. CLEOPATRA. I have sixty sails, Caesar none better. ANTONY. Our overplus of shipping will we burn, And, with the rest full-mann'd, from th' head of Actium Beat th' approaching Caesar. But if we fail, We then can do't at land. Enter a MESSENGER Thy business? MESSENGER. The news is true, my lord: he is descried; Caesar has taken Toryne. ANTONY. Can he be there in person? 'Tis impossible- Strange that his power should be. Canidius, Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land, And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship. Away, my Thetis! Enter a SOLDIER How now, worthy soldier? SOLDIER. O noble Emperor, do not fight by sea; Trust not to rotten planks. Do you misdoubt This sword and these my wounds? Let th' Egyptians And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we Have us'd to conquer standing on the earth And fighting foot to foot. ANTONY. Well, well- away. Exeunt ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, and ENOBARBUS SOLDIER. By Hercules, I think I am i' th' right. CANIDIUS. Soldier, thou art; but his whole action grows Not in the power on't. So our leader's led, And we are women's men. SOLDIER. You keep by land The legions and the horse whole, do you not? CANIDIUS. Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, Publicola, and Caelius are for sea; But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's Carries beyond belief. SOLDIER. While he was yet in Rome, His power went out in such distractions as Beguil'd all spies. CANIDIUS. Who's his lieutenant, hear you? SOLDIER. They say one Taurus. CANIDIUS. Well I know the man. Enter a MESSENGER MESSENGER. The Emperor calls Canidius. CANIDIUS. With news the time's with labour and throes forth Each minute some. Exeunt SCENE VIII. A plain near Actium Enter CAESAR, with his army, marching CAESAR. Taurus! TAURUS. My lord? CAESAR. Strike not by land; keep whole; provoke not battle Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed The prescript of this scroll. Our fortune lies Upon this jump. Exeunt SCENE IX. Another part of the plain Enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS ANTONY. Set we our squadrons on yon side o' th' hill, In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place We may the number of the ships behold, And so proceed accordingly. Exeunt SCENE X. Another part of the plain CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over the stage, and TAURUS, the Lieutenant of CAESAR, the other way. After their going in is heard the noise of a sea-fight Alarum. Enter ENOBARBUS ENOBARBUS. Naught, naught, all naught! I can behold no longer. Th' Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder. To see't mine eyes are blasted. Enter SCARUS SCARUS. Gods and goddesses, All the whole synod of them! ENOBARBUS. What's thy passion? SCARUS. The greater cantle of the world is lost With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away Kingdoms and provinces. ENOBARBUS. How appears the fight? SCARUS. On our side like the token'd pestilence, Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt- Whom leprosy o'ertake!- i' th' midst o' th' fight, When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd, Both as the same, or rather ours the elder- The breese upon her, like a cow in June- Hoists sails and flies. ENOBARBUS. That I beheld; Mine eyes did sicken at the sight and could not Endure a further view. SCARUS. She once being loof'd, The noble ruin of her magic, Antony, Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard, Leaving the fight in height, flies after her. I never saw an action of such shame; Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before Did violate so itself. ENOBARBUS. Alack, alack! Enter CANIDIUS CANIDIUS. Our fortune on the sea is out of breath, And sinks most lamentably. Had our general Been what he knew himself, it had gone well. O, he has given example for our flight Most grossly by his own! ENOBARBUS. Ay, are you thereabouts? Why then, good night indeed. CANIDIUS. Toward Peloponnesus are they fled. SCARUS. 'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend What further comes. CANIDIUS. To Caesar will I render My legions and my horse; six kings already Show me the way of yielding. ENOBARBUS. I'll yet follow The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason Sits in the wind against me. Exeunt SCENE XI. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter ANTONY With attendants ANTONY. Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't; It is asham'd to bear me. Friends, come hither. I am so lated in the world that I Have lost my way for ever. I have a ship Laden with gold; take that; divide it. Fly, And make your peace with Caesar. ALL. Fly? Not we! ANTONY. I have fled myself, and have instructed cowards To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone; I have myself resolv'd upon a course Which has no need of you; be gone. My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O, I follow'd that I blush to look upon. My very hairs do mutiny; for the white Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them For fear and doting. Friends, be gone; you shall Have letters from me to some friends that will Sweep your way for you. Pray you look not sad, Nor make replies of loathness; take the hint Which my despair proclaims. Let that be left Which leaves itself. To the sea-side straight way. I will possess you of that ship and treasure. Leave me, I pray, a little; pray you now; Nay, do so, for indeed I have lost command; Therefore I pray you. I'll see you by and by. [Sits down] Enter CLEOPATRA, led by CHARMIAN and IRAS, EROS following EROS. Nay, gentle madam, to him! Comfort him. IRAS. Do, most dear Queen. CHARMIAN. Do? Why, what else? CLEOPATRA. Let me sit down. O Juno! ANTONY. No, no, no, no, no. EROS. See you here, sir? ANTONY. O, fie, fie, fie! CHARMIAN. Madam! IRAS. Madam, O good Empress! EROS. Sir, sir! ANTONY. Yes, my lord, yes. He at Philippi kept His sword e'en like a dancer, while I struck The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I That the mad Brutus ended; he alone Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had In the brave squares of war. Yet now- no matter. CLEOPATRA. Ah, stand by! EROS. The Queen, my lord, the Queen! IRAS. Go to him, madam, speak to him. He is unqualitied with very shame. CLEOPATRA. Well then, sustain me. O! EROS. Most noble sir, arise; the Queen approaches. Her head's declin'd, and death will seize her but Your comfort makes the rescue. ANTONY. I have offended reputation- A most unnoble swerving. EROS. Sir, the Queen. ANTONY. O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See How I convey my shame out of thine eyes By looking back what I have left behind 'Stroy'd in dishonour. CLEOPATRA. O my lord, my lord, Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought You would have followed. ANTONY. Egypt, thou knew'st too well My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings, And thou shouldst tow me after. O'er my spirit Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods Command me. CLEOPATRA. O, my pardon! ANTONY. Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness, who With half the bulk o' th' world play'd as I pleas'd, Making and marring fortunes. You did know How much you were my conqueror, and that My sword, made weak by my affection, would Obey it on all cause. CLEOPATRA. Pardon, pardon! ANTONY. Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss; Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster; is 'a come back? Love, I am full of lead. Some wine, Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows We scorn her most when most she offers blows. Exeunt SCENE XII. CAESAR'S camp in Egypt Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others CAESAR. Let him appear that's come from Antony. Know you him? DOLABELLA. Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster: An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither He sends so poor a pinion of his wing, Which had superfluous kings for messengers Not many moons gone by. Enter EUPHRONIUS, Ambassador from ANTONY CAESAR. Approach, and speak. EUPHRONIUS. Such as I am, I come from Antony. I was of late as petty to his ends As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf To his grand sea. CAESAR. Be't so. Declare thine office. EUPHRONIUS. Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and Requires to live in Egypt; which not granted, He lessens his requests and to thee sues To let him breathe between the heavens and earth, A private man in Athens. This for him. Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness, Submits her to thy might, and of thee craves The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs, Now hazarded to thy grace. CAESAR. For Antony, I have no ears to his request. The Queen Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend, Or take his life there. This if she perform, She shall not sue unheard. So to them both. EUPHRONIUS. Fortune pursue thee! CAESAR. Bring him through the bands. Exit EUPHRONIUS [To THYREUS] To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time. Dispatch; From Antony win Cleopatra. Promise, And in our name, what she requires; add more, From thine invention, offers. Women are not In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure The ne'er-touch'd vestal. Try thy cunning, Thyreus; Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we Will answer as a law. THYREUS. Caesar, I go. CAESAR. Observe how Antony becomes his flaw, And what thou think'st his very action speaks In every power that moves. THYREUS. Caesar, I shall. Exeunt SCENE XIII. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS CLEOPATRA. What shall we do, Enobarbus? ENOBARBUS. Think, and die. CLEOPATRA. Is Antony or we in fault for this? ENOBARBUS. Antony only, that would make his will Lord of his reason. What though you fled From that great face of war, whose several ranges Frighted each other? Why should he follow? The itch of his affection should not then Have nick'd his captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world oppos'd, he being The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less Than was his loss, to course your flying flags And leave his navy gazing. CLEOPATRA. Prithee, peace. Enter EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador; with ANTONY ANTONY. Is that his answer? EUPHRONIUS. Ay, my lord. ANTONY. The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she Will yield us up. EUPHRONIUS. He says so. ANTONY. Let her know't. To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, And he will fill thy wishes to the brim With principalities. CLEOPATRA. That head, my lord? ANTONY. To him again. Tell him he wears the rose Of youth upon him; from which the world should note Something particular. His coin, ships, legions, May be a coward's whose ministers would prevail Under the service of a child as soon As i' th' command of Caesar. I dare him therefore To lay his gay comparisons apart, And answer me declin'd, sword against sword, Ourselves alone. I'll write it. Follow me. Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS EUPHRONIUS. [Aside] Yes, like enough high-battled Caesar will Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to th' show Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike. That he should dream, Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdu'd His judgment too. Enter a SERVANT SERVANT. A messenger from Caesar. CLEOPATRA. What, no more ceremony? See, my women! Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir. Exit SERVANT ENOBARBUS. [Aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square. The loyalty well held to fools does make Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i' th' story. Enter THYREUS CLEOPATRA. Caesar's will? THYREUS. Hear it apart. CLEOPATRA. None but friends: say boldly. THYREUS. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. ENOBARBUS. He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has, Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's. THYREUS. So. Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats Not to consider in what case thou stand'st Further than he is Caesar. CLEOPATRA. Go on. Right royal! THYREUS. He knows that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you fear'd him. CLEOPATRA. O! THYREUS. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he Does pity, as constrained blemishes, Not as deserv'd. CLEOPATRA. He is a god, and knows What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, But conquer'd merely. ENOBARBUS. [Aside] To be sure of that, I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee. Exit THYREUS. Shall I say to Caesar What you require of him? For he partly begs To be desir'd to give. It much would please him That of his fortunes you should make a staff To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony, And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord. CLEOPATRA. What's your name? THYREUS. My name is Thyreus. CLEOPATRA. Most kind messenger, Say to great Caesar this: in deputation I kiss his conquring hand. Tell him I am prompt To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel. Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear The doom of Egypt. THYREUS. 'Tis your noblest course. Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay My duty on your hand. CLEOPATRA. Your Caesar's father oft, When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, As it rain'd kisses. Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS ANTONY. Favours, by Jove that thunders! What art thou, fellow? THYREUS. One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To have command obey'd. ENOBARBUS. [Aside] You will be whipt. ANTONY. Approach there.- Ah, you kite!- Now, gods and devils! Authority melts from me. Of late, when I cried 'Ho!' Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am Antony yet. Enter servants Take hence this Jack and whip him. ENOBARBUS. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp Than with an old one dying. ANTONY. Moon and stars! Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them So saucy with the hand of she here- what's her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, Till like a boy you see him cringe his face, And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence. THYMUS. Mark Antony- ANTONY. Tug him away. Being whipt, Bring him again: the Jack of Caesar's shall Bear us an errand to him. Exeunt servants with THYREUS You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha! Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, Forborne the getting of a lawful race, And by a gem of women, to be abus'd By one that looks on feeders? CLEOPATRA. Good my lord- ANTONY. You have been a boggler ever. But when we in our viciousness grow hard- O misery on't!- the wise gods seel our eyes, In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut To our confusion. CLEOPATRA. O, is't come to this? ANTONY. I found you as a morsel cold upon Dead Caesar's trencher. Nay, you were a fragment Of Cneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours, Unregist'red in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously pick'd out; for I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is. CLEOPATRA. Wherefore is this? ANTONY. To let a fellow that will take rewards, And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal And plighter of high hearts! O that I were Upon the hill of Basan to outroar The horned herd! For I have savage cause, And to proclaim it civilly were like A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank For being yare about him. Re-enter a SERVANT with THYREUS Is he whipt? SERVANT. Soundly, my lord. ANTONY. Cried he? and begg'd 'a pardon? SERVANT. He did ask favour. ANTONY. If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry To follow Caesar in his triumph, since Thou hast been whipt for following him. Henceforth The white hand of a lady fever thee! Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Caesar; Tell him thy entertainment; look thou say He makes me angry with him; for he seems Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry; And at this time most easy 'tis to do't, When my good stars, that were my former guides, Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires Into th' abysm of hell. If he mislike My speech and what is done, tell him he has Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip or hang or torture, As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou. Hence with thy stripes, be gone. Exit THYREUS CLEOPATRA. Have you done yet? ANTONY. Alack, our terrene moon Is now eclips'd, and it portends alone The fall of Antony. CLEOPATRA. I must stay his time. ANTONY. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points? CLEOPATRA. Not know me yet? ANTONY. Cold-hearted toward me? CLEOPATRA. Ah, dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, And poison it in the source, and the first stone Drop in my neck; as it determines, so Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite! Till by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm, Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey. ANTONY. I am satisfied. Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where I will oppose his fate. Our force by land Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy to Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like. Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? If from the field I shall return once more To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood. I and my sword will earn our chronicle. There's hope in't yet. CLEOPATRA. That's my brave lord! ANTONY. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd, And fight maliciously. For when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; Let's mock the midnight bell. CLEOPATRA. It is my birthday. I had thought t'have held it poor; but since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. ANTONY. We will yet do well. CLEOPATRA. Call all his noble captains to my lord. ANTONY. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen, There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS ENOBARBUS. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still A diminution in our captain's brain Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him. Exit ACT IV. SCENE I. CAESAR'S camp before Alexandria Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MAECENAS, with his army; CAESAR reading a letter CAESAR. He calls me boy, and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger He hath whipt with rods; dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die, meantime Laugh at his challenge. MAECENAS. Caesar must think When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction. Never anger Made good guard for itself. CAESAR. Let our best heads Know that to-morrow the last of many battles We mean to fight. Within our files there are Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late Enough to fetch him in. See it done; And feast the army; we have store to do't, And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! Exeunt SCENE II. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, with others ANTONY. He will not fight with me, Domitius? ENOBARBUS. No. ANTONY. Why should he not? ENOBARBUS. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty men to one. ANTONY. To-morrow, soldier, By sea and land I'll fight. Or I will live, Or bathe my dying honour in the blood Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well? ENOBARBUS. I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.' ANTONY. Well said; come on. Call forth my household servants; let's to-night Be bounteous at our meal. Enter three or four servitors Give me thy hand, Thou has been rightly honest. So hast thou; Thou, and thou, and thou. You have serv'd me well, And kings have been your fellows. CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What means this? ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] 'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots Out of the mind. ANTONY. And thou art honest too. I wish I could be made so many men, And all of you clapp'd up together in An Antony, that I might do you service So good as you have done. SERVANT. The gods forbid! ANTONY. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night. Scant not my cups, and make as much of me As when mine empire was your fellow too, And suffer'd my command. CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What does he mean? ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] To make his followers weep. ANTONY. Tend me to-night; May be it is the period of your duty. Haply you shall not see me more; or if, A mangled shadow. Perchance to-morrow You'll serve another master. I look on you As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends, I turn you not away; but, like a master Married to your good service, stay till death. Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more, And the gods yield you for't! ENOBARBUS. What mean you, sir, To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd. For shame! Transform us not to women. ANTONY. Ho, ho, ho! Now the witch take me if I meant it thus! Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends, You take me in too dolorous a sense; For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts, I hope well of to-morrow, and will lead you Where rather I'll expect victorious life Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come, And drown consideration. Exeunt SCENE III. Alexandria. Before CLEOPATRA's palace Enter a company of soldiers FIRST SOLDIER. Brother, good night. To-morrow is the day. SECOND SOLDIER. It will determine one way. Fare you well. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? FIRST SOLDIER. Nothing. What news? SECOND SOLDIER. Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you. FIRST SOLDIER. Well, sir, good night. [They meet other soldiers] SECOND SOLDIER. Soldiers, have careful watch. FIRST SOLDIER. And you. Good night, good night. [The two companies separate and place themselves in every corner of the stage] SECOND SOLDIER. Here we. And if to-morrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up. THIRD SOLDIER. 'Tis a brave army, And full of purpose. [Music of the hautboys is under the stage] SECOND SOLDIER. Peace, what noise? THIRD SOLDIER. List, list! SECOND SOLDIER. Hark! THIRD SOLDIER. Music i' th' air. FOURTH SOLDIER. Under the earth. THIRD SOLDIER. It signs well, does it not? FOURTH SOLDIER. No. THIRD SOLDIER. Peace, I say! What should this mean? SECOND SOLDIER. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd, Now leaves him. THIRD SOLDIER. Walk; let's see if other watchmen Do hear what we do. SECOND SOLDIER. How now, masters! SOLDIERS. [Speaking together] How now! How now! Do you hear this? FIRST SOLDIER. Ay; is't not strange? THIRD SOLDIER. Do you hear, masters? Do you hear? FIRST SOLDIER. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter; Let's see how it will give off. SOLDIERS. Content. 'Tis strange. Exeunt SCENE IV. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, with others ANTONY. Eros! mine armour, Eros! CLEOPATRA. Sleep a little. ANTONY. No, my chuck. Eros! Come, mine armour, Eros! Enter EROS with armour Come, good fellow, put mine iron on. If fortune be not ours to-day, it is Because we brave her. Come. CLEOPATRA. Nay, I'll help too. What's this for? ANTONY. Ah, let be, let be! Thou art The armourer of my heart. False, false; this, this. CLEOPATRA. Sooth, la, I'll help. Thus it must be. ANTONY. Well, well; We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow? Go put on thy defences. EROS. Briefly, sir. CLEOPATRA. Is not this buckled well? ANTONY. Rarely, rarely! He that unbuckles this, till we do please To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm. Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire More tight at this than thou. Dispatch. O love, That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st The royal occupation! Thou shouldst see A workman in't. Enter an armed SOLDIER Good-morrow to thee. Welcome. Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge. To business that we love we rise betime, And go to't with delight. SOLDIER. A thousand, sir, Early though't be, have on their riveted trim, And at the port expect you. [Shout. Flourish of trumpets within] Enter CAPTAINS and soldiers CAPTAIN. The morn is fair. Good morrow, General. ALL. Good morrow, General. ANTONY. 'Tis well blown, lads. This morning, like the spirit of a youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. So, so. Come, give me that. This way. Well said. Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me. This is a soldier's kiss. Rebukeable, And worthy shameful check it were, to stand On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee Now like a man of steel. You that will fight, Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu. Exeunt ANTONY, EROS, CAPTAINS and soldiers CHARMIAN. Please you retire to your chamber? CLEOPATRA. Lead me. He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might Determine this great war in single fight! Then, Antony- but now. Well, on. Exeunt SCENE V. Alexandria. ANTONY'S camp Trumpets sound. Enter ANTONY and EROS, a SOLDIER meeting them SOLDIER. The gods make this a happy day to Antony! ANTONY. Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd To make me fight at land! SOLDIER. Hadst thou done so, The kings that have revolted, and the soldier That has this morning left thee, would have still Followed thy heels. ANTONY. Who's gone this morning? SOLDIER. Who? One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus, He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp Say 'I am none of thine.' ANTONY. What say'st thou? SOLDIER. Sir, He is with Caesar. EROS. Sir, his chests and treasure He has not with him. ANTONY. Is he gone? SOLDIER. Most certain. ANTONY. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it; Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him- I will subscribe- gentle adieus and greetings; Say that I wish he never find more cause To change a master. O, my fortunes have Corrupted honest men! Dispatch. Enobarbus! Exeunt SCENE VI. Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp Flourish. Enter AGRIPPA, CAESAR, With DOLABELLA and ENOBARBUS CAESAR. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight. Our will is Antony be took alive; Make it so known. AGRIPPA. Caesar, I shall. Exit CAESAR. The time of universal peace is near. Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nook'd world Shall bear the olive freely. Enter A MESSENGER MESSENGER. Antony Is come into the field. CAESAR. Go charge Agrippa Plant those that have revolted in the vant, That Antony may seem to spend his fury Upon himself. Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS ENOBARBUS. Alexas did revolt and went to Jewry on Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar And leave his master Antony. For this pains Casaer hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest That fell away have entertainment, but No honourable trust. I have done ill, Of which I do accuse myself so sorely That I will joy no more. Enter a SOLDIER of CAESAR'S SOLDIER. Enobarbus, Antony Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with His bounty overplus. The messenger Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now Unloading of his mules. ENOBARBUS. I give it you. SOLDIER. Mock not, Enobarbus. I tell you true. Best you saf'd the bringer Out of the host. I must attend mine office, Or would have done't myself. Your emperor Continues still a Jove. Exit ENOBARBUS. I am alone the villain of the earth, And feel I am so most. O Antony, Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart. If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean Shall outstrike thought; but thought will do't, I feel. I fight against thee? No! I will go seek Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits My latter part of life. Exit SCENE VII. Field of battle between the camps Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA and others AGRIPPA. Retire. We have engag'd ourselves too far. Caesar himself has work, and our oppression Exceeds what we expected. Exeunt Alarums. Enter ANTONY, and SCARUS wounded SCARUS. O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed! Had we done so at first, we had droven them home With clouts about their heads. ANTONY. Thou bleed'st apace. SCARUS. I had a wound here that was like a T, But now 'tis made an H. ANTONY. They do retire. SCARUS. We'll beat'em into bench-holes. I have yet Room for six scotches more. Enter EROS EROS. They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves For a fair victory. SCARUS. Let us score their backs And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind. 'Tis sport to maul a runner. ANTONY. I will reward thee Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold For thy good valour. Come thee on. SCARUS. I'll halt after. Exeunt SCENE VIII. Under the walls of Alexandria Alarum. Enter ANTONY, again in a march; SCARUS with others ANTONY. We have beat him to his camp. Run one before And let the Queen know of our gests. To-morrow, Before the sun shall see's, we'll spill the blood That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all; For doughty-handed are you, and have fought Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors. Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss The honour'd gashes whole. Enter CLEOPATRA, attended [To SCARUS] Give me thy hand- To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' th' world, Chain mine arm'd neck. Leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing. CLEOPATRA. Lord of lords! O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from The world's great snare uncaught? ANTONY. Mine nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand- Kiss it, my warrior- he hath fought to-day As if a god in hate of mankind had Destroyed in such a shape. CLEOPATRA. I'll give thee, friend, An armour all of gold; it was a king's. ANTONY. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand. Through Alexandria make a jolly march; Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them. Had our great palace the capacity To camp this host, we all would sup together, And drink carouses to the next day's fate, Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters, With brazen din blast you the city's ear; Make mingle with our rattling tabourines, That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together Applauding our approach. Exeunt SCENE IX. CAESAR'S camp Enter a CENTURION and his company; ENOBARBUS follows CENTURION. If we be not reliev'd within this hour, We must return to th' court of guard. The night Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle By th' second hour i' th' morn. FIRST WATCH. This last day was A shrewd one to's. ENOBARBUS. O, bear me witness, night- SECOND WATCH. What man is this? FIRST WATCH. Stand close and list him. ENOBARBUS. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, When men revolted shall upon record Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did Before thy face repent! CENTURION. Enobarbus? SECOND WATCH. Peace! Hark further. ENOBARBUS. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me, That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault, Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder, And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony, Nobler than my revolt is infamous, Forgive me in thine own particular, But let the world rank me in register A master-leaver and a fugitive! O Antony! O Antony! [Dies] FIRST WATCH. Let's speak to him. CENTURION. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks May concern Caesar. SECOND WATCH. Let's do so. But he sleeps. CENTURION. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his Was never yet for sleep. FIRST WATCH. Go we to him. SECOND WATCH. Awake, sir, awake; speak to us. FIRST WATCH. Hear you, sir? CENTURION. The hand of death hath raught him. [Drums afar off ] Hark! the drums Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him To th' court of guard; he is of note. Our hour Is fully out. SECOND WATCH. Come on, then; He may recover yet. Exeunt with the body SCENE X. Between the two camps Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with their army ANTONY. Their preparation is to-day by sea; We please them not by land. SCARUS. For both, my lord. ANTONY. I would they'd fight i' th' fire or i' th' air; We'd fight there too. But this it is, our foot Upon the hills adjoining to the city Shall stay with us- Order for sea is given; They have put forth the haven- Where their appointment we may best discover And look on their endeavour. Exeunt SCENE XI. Between the camps Enter CAESAR and his army CAESAR. But being charg'd, we will be still by land, Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, And hold our best advantage. Exeunt SCENE XII. A hill near Alexandria Enter ANTONY and SCARUS ANTONY. Yet they are not join'd. Where yond pine does stand I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word Straight how 'tis like to go. Exit SCARUS. Swallows have built In Cleopatra's sails their nests. The augurers Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly, And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony Is valiant and dejected; and by starts His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear Of what he has and has not. [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight] Re-enter ANTONY ANTONY. All is lost! This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me. My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder They cast their caps up and carouse together Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; For when I am reveng'd upon my charm, I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone. Exit SCARUS O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more! Fortune and Antony part here; even here Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am. O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm- Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home, Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end- Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss. What, Eros, Eros! Enter CLEOPATRA Ah, thou spell! Avaunt! CLEOPATRA. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love? ANTONY. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians; Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown For poor'st diminutives, for doits, and let Patient Octavia plough thy visage up With her prepared nails. Exit CLEOPATRA 'Tis well th'art gone, If it be well to live; but better 'twere Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death Might have prevented many. Eros, ho! The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me, Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage; Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon, And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die. To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall Under this plot. She dies for't. Eros, ho! Exit SCENE XIII. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN CLEOPATRA. Help me, my women. O, he is more mad Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly Was never so emboss'd. CHARMIAN. To th'monument! There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead. The soul and body rive not more in parting Than greatness going off. CLEOPATRA. To th' monument! Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony' And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, And bring me how he takes my death. To th' monument! Exeunt SCENE XIV. CLEOPATRA'S palace Enter ANTONY and EROS ANTONY. Eros, thou yet behold'st me? EROS. Ay, noble lord. ANTONY. Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish; A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper's pageants. EROS. Ay, my lord. ANTONY. That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, As water is in water. EROS. It does, my lord. ANTONY. My good knave Eros, now thy captain is Even such a body. Here I am Antony; Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen- Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine, Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't A million moe, now lost- she, Eros, has Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph. Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us Ourselves to end ourselves. Enter MARDIAN O, thy vile lady! She has robb'd me of my sword. MARDIAN. No, Antony; My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled With thine entirely. ANTONY. Hence, saucy eunuch; peace! She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death. MARDIAN. Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has discharg'd. What thou wouldst do Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!' Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips. She rend'red life, Thy name so buried in her. ANTONY. Dead then? MARDIAN. Dead. ANTONY. Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done, And we must sleep. That thou depart'st hence safe Does pay thy labour richly. Go. Exit MARDIAN Off, pluck off! The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides! Heart, once be stronger than thy continent, Crack thy frail case. Apace, Eros, apace.- No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go; You have been nobly borne.- From me awhile. Exit EROS I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now All length is torture. Since the torch is out, Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles Itself with strength. Seal then, and all is done. Eros!- I come, my queen.- Eros!- Stay for me; Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand, And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze. Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops, And all the haunt be ours.- Come, Eros, Eros! Re-enter EROS EROS. What would my lord? ANTONY. Since Cleopatra died, I have liv'd in such dishonour that the gods Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman; less noble mind Than she which by her death our Caesar tells 'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros, That, when the exigent should come- which now Is come indeed- when I should see behind me Th' inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, Thou then wouldst kill me. Do't; the time is come. Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy cheek. EROS. The gods withhold me! Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim and could not? ANTONY. Eros, Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded His baseness that ensued? EROS. I would not see't. ANTONY. Come, then; for with a wound I must be cur'd. Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country. EROS. O, sir, pardon me! ANTONY. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come. EROS. Turn from me then that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. ANTONY. Lo thee! [Turning from him] EROS. My sword is drawn. ANTONY. Then let it do at once The thing why thou hast drawn it. EROS. My dear master, My captain and my emperor, let me say, Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell. ANTONY. 'Tis said, man; and farewell. EROS. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? ANTONY. Now, Eros. EROS. Why, there then! Thus do I escape the sorrow Of Antony's death. [Kills himself ANTONY. Thrice nobler than myself! Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me A nobleness in record. But I will be A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros, Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus [Falling on his sword] I learn'd of thee. How? not dead? not dead?- The guard, ho! O, dispatch me! Enter DERCETAS and a guard FIRST GUARD. What's the noise? ANTONY. I have done my work ill, friends. O, make an end Of what I have begun. SECOND GUARD. The star is fall'n. FIRST GUARD. And time is at his period. ALL. Alas, and woe! ANTONY. Let him that loves me, strike me dead. FIRST GUARD. Not I. SECOND GUARD. Nor I. THIRD GUARD. Nor any one. Exeunt guard DERCETAS. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him. Enter DIOMEDES DIOMEDES. Where's Antony? DERCETAS. There, Diomed, there. DIOMEDES. Lives he? Wilt thou not answer, man? Exit DERCETAS ANTONY. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword and give me Sufficing strokes for death. DIOMEDES. Most absolute lord, My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. ANTONY. When did she send thee? DIOMEDES. Now, my lord. ANTONY. Where is she? DIOMEDES. Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw- Which never shall be found- you did suspect She had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead; But fearing since how it might work, hath sent Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come, I dread, too late. ANTONY. Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee. DIOMEDES. What, ho! the Emperor's guard! The guard, what ho! Come, your lord calls! Enter four or five of the guard of ANTONY ANTONY. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. FIRST GUARD. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear All your true followers out. ALL. Most heavy day! ANTONY. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome Which comes to punish us, and we punish it, Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up. I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, And have my thanks for all. Exeunt, hearing ANTONY SCENE XV. Alexandria. A monument Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with CHARMIAN and IRAS CLEOPATRA. O Charmian, I will never go from hence! CHARMIAN. Be comforted, dear madam. CLEOPATRA. No, I will not. All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great As that which makes it. Enter DIOMEDES, below How now! Is he dead? DIOMEDES. His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out o' th' other side your monument; His guard have brought him thither. Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the guard CLEOPATRA. O sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! Darkling stand The varying shore o' th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help; Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither. ANTONY. Peace! Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. CLEOPATRA. So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so! ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only I here importune death awhile, until Of many thousand kisses the poor last I lay upon thy lips. CLEOPATRA. I dare not, dear. Dear my lord, pardon! I dare not, Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show Of the full-fortun'd Caesar ever shall Be brooch'd with me. If knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe. Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony- Help me, my women- we must draw thee up; Assist, good friends. ANTONY. O, quick, or I am gone. CLEOPATRA. Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness; That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power, The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little. Wishers were ever fools. O come, come, [They heave ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA] And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast liv'd. Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out. ALL. A heavy sight! ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. CLEOPATRA. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence. ANTONY. One word, sweet queen: Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O! CLEOPATRA. They do not go together. ANTONY. Gentle, hear me: None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. CLEOPATRA. My resolution and my hands I'll trust; None about Caesar ANTONY. The miserable change now at my end Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts In feeding them with those my former fortunes Wherein I liv'd the greatest prince o' th' world, The noblest; and do now not basely die, Not cowardly put off my helmet to My countryman- a Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going I can no more. CLEOPATRA. Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty? O, see, my women, [Antony dies] The crown o' th' earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n! Young boys and girls Are level now with men. The odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. [Swoons] CHARMIAN. O, quietness, lady! IRAS. She's dead too, our sovereign. CHARMIAN. Lady! IRAS. Madam! CHARMIAN. O madam, madam, madam! IRAS. Royal Egypt, Empress! CHARMIAN. Peace, peace, Iras! CLEOPATRA. No more but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares. It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but nought; Patience is sottish, and impatience does Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart. We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come, away; This case of that huge spirit now is cold. Ah, women, women! Come; we have no friend But resolution and the briefest end. Exeunt; those above hearing off ANTONY'S body ACT V. SCENE I. Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MAECENAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and others, his Council of War CAESAR. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks The pauses that he makes. DOLABELLA. Caesar, I shall. Exit Enter DERCETAS With the sword of ANTONY CAESAR. Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st Appear thus to us? DERCETAS. I am call'd Dercetas; Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy Best to be serv'd. Whilst he stood up and spoke, He was my master, and I wore my life To spend upon his haters. If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life. CAESAR. What is't thou say'st? DERCETAS. I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. CAESAR. The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack. The round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony Is not a single doom; in the name lay A moiety of the world. DERCETAS. He is dead, Caesar, Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand Which writ his honour in the acts it did Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart. This is his sword; I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd With his most noble blood. CAESAR. Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings. AGRIPPA. And strange it is That nature must compel us to lament Our most persisted deeds. MAECENAS. His taints and honours Wag'd equal with him. AGRIPPA. A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity. But you gods will give us Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd. MAECENAS. When such a spacious mirror's set before him, He needs must see himself. CAESAR. O Antony, I have follow'd thee to this! But we do lance Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce Have shown to thee such a declining day Or look on thine; we could not stall together In the whole world. But yet let me lament, With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts, That thou, my brother, my competitor In top of all design, my mate in empire, Friend and companion in the front of war, The arm of mine own body, and the heart Where mine his thoughts did kindle- that our stars, Unreconciliable, should divide Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends- Enter an EGYPTIAN But I will tell you at some meeter season. The business of this man looks out of him; We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you? EGYPTIAN. A poor Egyptian, yet the Queen, my mistress, Confin'd in all she has, her monument, Of thy intents desires instruction, That she preparedly may frame herself To th' way she's forc'd to. CAESAR. Bid her have good heart. She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, How honourable and how kindly we Determine for her; for Caesar cannot learn To be ungentle. EGYPTIAN. So the gods preserve thee! Exit CAESAR. Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts The quality of her passion shall require, Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke She do defeat us; for her life in Rome Would be eternal in our triumph. Go, And with your speediest bring us what she says, And how you find her. PROCULEIUS. Caesar, I shall. Exit CAESAR. Gallus, go you along. Exit GALLUS Where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius? ALL. Dolabella! CAESAR. Let him alone, for I remember now How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready. Go with me to my tent, where you shall see How hardly I was drawn into this war, How calm and gentle I proceeded still In all my writings. Go with me, and see What I can show in this. Exeunt SCENE II. Alexandria. The monument Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN CLEOPATRA. My desolation does begin to make A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar: Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, A minister of her will; and it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change, Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug, The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS, GALLUS, and soldiers PROCULEIUS. Caesar sends greetings to the Queen of Egypt, And bids thee study on what fair demands Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. CLEOPATRA. What's thy name? PROCULEIUS. My name is Proculeius. CLEOPATRA. Antony Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd, That have no use for trusting. If your master Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him That majesty, to keep decorum, must No less beg than a kingdom. If he please To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son, He gives me so much of mine own as I Will kneel to him with thanks. PROCULEIUS. Be of good cheer; Y'are fall'n into a princely hand; fear nothing. Make your full reference freely to my lord, Who is so full of grace that it flows over On all that need. Let me report to him Your sweet dependency, and you shall find A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness Where he for grace is kneel'd to. CLEOPATRA. Pray you tell him I am his fortune's vassal and I send him The greatness he has got. I hourly learn A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly Look him i' th' face. PROCULEIUS. This I'll report, dear lady. Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied Of him that caus'd it. GALLUS. You see how easily she may be surpris'd. Here PROCULEIUS and two of the guard ascend the monument by a ladder placed against a window, and come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of the guard unbar and open the gates Guard her till Caesar come. Exit IRAS. Royal Queen! CHARMIAN. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, Queen! CLEOPATRA. Quick, quick, good hands. [Drawing a dagger] PROCULEIUS. Hold, worthy lady, hold, [Disarms her] Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this Reliev'd, but not betray'd. CLEOPATRA. What, of death too, That rids our dogs of languish? PROCULEIUS. Cleopatra, Do not abuse my master's bounty by Th' undoing of yourself. Let the world see His nobleness well acted, which your death Will never let come forth. CLEOPATRA. Where art thou, death? Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars! PROCULEIUS. O, temperance, lady! CLEOPATRA. Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir; If idle talk will once be necessary, I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin, Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court, Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up, And show me to the shouting varletry Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt Be gentle grave unto me! Rather on Nilus' mud Lay me stark-nak'd, and let the water-flies Blow me into abhorring! Rather make My country's high pyramides my gibbet, And hang me up in chains! PROCULEIUS. You do extend These thoughts of horror further than you shall Find cause in Caesar. Enter DOLABELLA DOLABELLA. Proculeius, What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows, And he hath sent for thee. For the Queen, I'll take her to my guard. PROCULEIUS. So, Dolabella, It shall content me best. Be gentle to her. [To CLEOPATRA] To Caesar I will speak what you shall please, If you'll employ me to him. CLEOPATRA. Say I would die. Exeunt PROCULEIUS and soldiers DOLABELLA. Most noble Empress, you have heard of me? CLEOPATRA. I cannot tell. DOLABELLA. Assuredly you know me. CLEOPATRA. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams; Is't not your trick? DOLABELLA. I understand not, madam. CLEOPATRA. I dreamt there was an Emperor Antony- O, such another sleep, that I might see But such another man! DOLABELLA. If it might please ye- CLEOPATRA. His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted The little O, the earth. DOLABELLA. Most sovereign creature- CLEOPATRA. His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm Crested the world. His voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas That grew the more by reaping. His delights Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above The element they liv'd in. In his livery Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were As plates dropp'd from his pocket. DOLABELLA. Cleopatra- CLEOPATRA. Think you there was or might be such a man As this I dreamt of? DOLABELLA. Gentle madam, no. CLEOPATRA. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. But if there be nor ever were one such, It's past the size of drearning. Nature wants stuff To vie strange forms with fancy; yet t' imagine An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, Condemning shadows quite. DOLABELLA. Hear me, good madam. Your loss is, as yourself, great; and you bear it As answering to the weight. Would I might never O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel, By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites My very heart at root. CLEOPATRA. I thank you, sir. Know you what Caesar means to do with me? DOLABELLA. I am loath to tell you what I would you knew. CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you, sir. DOLABELLA. Though he be honourable- CLEOPATRA. He'll lead me, then, in triumph? DOLABELLA. Madam, he will. I know't. [Flourish] [Within: 'Make way there-Caesar!'] Enter CAESAR; GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, MAECENAS, SELEUCUS, and others of his train CAESAR. Which is the Queen of Egypt? DOLABELLA. It is the Emperor, madam. [CLEOPATPA kneels] CAESAR. Arise, you shall not kneel. I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt. CLEOPATRA. Sir, the gods Will have it thus; my master and my lord I must obey. CAESAR. Take to you no hard thoughts. The record of what injuries you did us, Though written in our flesh, we shall remember As things but done by chance. CLEOPATRA. Sole sir o' th' world, I cannot project mine own cause so well To make it clear, but do confess I have Been laden with like frailties which before Have often sham'd our sex. CAESAR. Cleopatra, know We will extenuate rather than enforce. If you apply yourself to our intents- Which towards you are most gentle- you shall find A benefit in this change; but if you seek To lay on me a cruelty by taking Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself Of my good purposes, and put your children To that destruction which I'll guard them from, If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave. CLEOPATRA. And may, through all the world. 'Tis yours, and we, Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord. CAESAR. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra. CLEOPATRA. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels, I am possess'd of. 'Tis exactly valued, Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus? SELEUCUS. Here, madam. CLEOPATRA. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord, Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus. SELEUCUS. Madam, I had rather seal my lips than to my peril Speak that which is not. CLEOPATRA. What have I kept back? SELEUCUS. Enough to purchase what you have made known. CAESAR. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve Your wisdom in the deed. CLEOPATRA. See, Caesar! O, behold, How pomp is followed! Mine will now be yours; And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine. The ingratitude of this Seleucus does Even make me wild. O slave, of no more trust Than love that's hir'd! What, goest thou back? Thou shalt Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes Though they had wings. Slave, soulless villain, dog! O rarely base! CAESAR. Good Queen, let us entreat you. CLEOPATRA. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this, That thou vouchsafing here to visit me, Doing the honour of thy lordliness To one so meek, that mine own servant should Parcel the sum of my disgraces by Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar, That I some lady trifles have reserv'd, Immoment toys, things of such dignity As we greet modern friends withal; and say Some nobler token I have kept apart For Livia and Octavia, to induce Their mediation- must I be unfolded With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me Beneath the fall I have. [To SELEUCUS] Prithee go hence; Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through th' ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man, Thou wouldst have mercy on me. CAESAR. Forbear, Seleucus. Exit SELEUCUS CLEOPATRA. Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do; and when we fall We answer others' merits in our name, Are therefore to be pitied. CAESAR. Cleopatra, Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd, Put we i' th' roll of conquest. Still be't yours, Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; Make not your thoughts your prisons. No, dear Queen; For we intend so to dispose you as Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed and sleep. Our care and pity is so much upon you That we remain your friend; and so, adieu. CLEOPATRA. My master and my lord! CAESAR. Not so. Adieu. Flourish. Exeunt CAESAR and his train CLEOPATRA. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself. But hark thee, Charmian! [Whispers CHARMIAN] IRAS. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark. CLEOPATRA. Hie thee again. I have spoke already, and it is provided; Go put it to the haste. CHARMIAN. Madam, I will. Re-enter DOLABELLA DOLABELLA. Where's the Queen? CHARMIAN. Behold, sir. Exit CLEOPATRA. Dolabella! DOLABELLA. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, Which my love makes religion to obey, I tell you this: Caesar through Syria Intends his journey, and within three days You with your children will he send before. Make your best use of this; I have perform'd Your pleasure and my promise. CLEOPATRA. Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor. DOLABELLA. I your servant. Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Caesar. CLEOPATRA. Farewell, and thanks. Exit DOLABELLA Now, Iras, what think'st thou? Thou an Egyptian puppet shall be shown In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves, With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded, And forc'd to drink their vapour. IRAS. The gods forbid! CLEOPATRA. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune; the quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels; Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I' th' posture of a whore. IRAS. O the good gods! CLEOPATRA. Nay, that's certain. IRAS. I'll never see't, for I am sure mine nails Are stronger than mine eyes. CLEOPATRA. Why, that's the way To fool their preparation and to conquer Their most absurd intents. Enter CHARMIAN Now, Charmian! Show me, my women, like a queen. Go fetch My best attires. I am again for Cydnus, To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah, Iras, go. Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed; And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all. Exit IRAS. A noise within Wherefore's this noise? Enter a GUARDSMAN GUARDSMAN. Here is a rural fellow That will not be denied your Highness' presence. He brings you figs. CLEOPATRA. Let him come in. Exit GUARDSMAN What poor an instrument May do a noble deed! He brings me liberty. My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing Of woman in me. Now from head to foot I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine. Re-enter GUARDSMAN and CLOWN, with a basket GUARDSMAN. This is the man. CLEOPATRA. Avoid, and leave him. Exit GUARDSMAN Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there That kills and pains not? CLOWN. Truly, I have him. But I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or never recover. CLEOPATRA. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? CLOWN. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty; how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt- truly she makes a very good report o' th' worm. But he that will believe all that they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is most falliable, the worm's an odd worm. CLEOPATRA. Get thee hence; farewell. CLOWN. I wish you all joy of the worm. [Sets down the basket] CLEOPATRA. Farewell. CLOWN. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind. CLEOPATRA. Ay, ay; farewell. CLOWN. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm. CLEOPATRA. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. CLOWN. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. CLEOPATRA. Will it eat me? CLOWN. You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman. I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in every ten that they make the devils mar five. CLEOPATRA. Well, get thee gone; farewell. CLOWN. Yes, forsooth. I wish you joy o' th' worm. Exit Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c. CLEOPATRA. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me. Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call. I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act. I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come. Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So, have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian. Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies] Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thus thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking. CHARMIAN. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say The gods themselves do weep. CLEOPATRA. This proves me base. If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch, [To an asp, which she applies to her breast] With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie. Poor venomous fool, Be angry and dispatch. O couldst thou speak, That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass Unpolicied! CHARMIAN. O Eastern star! CLEOPATRA. Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast That sucks the nurse asleep? CHARMIAN. O, break! O, break! CLEOPATRA. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle- O Antony! Nay, I will take thee too: [Applying another asp to her arm] What should I stay- [Dies] CHARMIAN. In this vile world? So, fare thee well. Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close; And golden Phoebus never be beheld Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry; I'll mend it and then play- Enter the guard, rushing in FIRST GUARD. Where's the Queen? CHARMIAN. Speak softly, wake her not. FIRST GUARD. Caesar hath sent- CHARMIAN. Too slow a messenger. [Applies an asp] O, come apace, dispatch. I partly feel thee. FIRST GUARD. Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguil'd. SECOND GUARD. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him. FIRST GUARD. What work is here! Charmian, is this well done? CHARMIAN. It is well done, and fitting for a princes Descended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier! [CHARMIAN dies] Re-enter DOLABELLA DOLABELLA. How goes it here? SECOND GUARD. All dead. DOLABELLA. Caesar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou So sought'st to hinder. [Within: 'A way there, a way for Caesar!'] Re-enter CAESAR and all his train DOLABELLA. O sir, you are too sure an augurer: That you did fear is done. CAESAR. Bravest at the last, She levell'd at our purposes, and being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed. DOLABELLA. Who was last with them? FIRST GUARD. A simple countryman that brought her figs. This was his basket. CAESAR. Poison'd then. FIRST GUARD. O Caesar, This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood and spake. I found her trimming up the diadem On her dead mistress. Tremblingly she stood, And on the sudden dropp'd. CAESAR. O noble weakness! If they had swallow'd poison 'twould appear By external swelling; but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace. DOLABELLA. Here on her breast There is a vent of blood, and something blown; The like is on her arm. FIRST GUARD. This is an aspic's trail; and these fig-leaves Have slime upon them, such as th' aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile. CAESAR. Most probable That so she died; for her physician tells me She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed, And bear her women from the monument. She shall be buried by her Antony; No grave upon the earth shall clip in it A pair so famous. High events as these Strike those that make them; and their story is No less in pity than his glory which Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall In solemn show attend this funeral, And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see High order in this great solemnity. Exeunt -THE END- 1609 A LOVER'S COMPLAINT by William Shakespeare From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sist'ring vale, My spirits t'attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale, Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking rings atwain, Storming her world with sorrow's wind and rain. Upon her head a platted hive of straw, Which fortified her visage from the sun, Whereon the thought might think sometime it saw The carcase of a beauty spent and done. Time had not scythed all that youth begun, Nor youth all quit, but spite of heaven's fell rage Some beauty peeped through lattice of seared age. Oft did she heave her napkin to her eyne, Which on it had conceited characters, Laund'ring the silken figures in the brine That seasoned woe had pelleted in tears, And often reading what contents it bears; As often shrieking undistinguished woe, In clamours of all size, both high and low. Sometimes her levelled eyes their carriage ride, As they did batt'ry to the spheres intend; Sometime diverted their poor balls are tied To th' orbed earth; sometimes they do extend Their view right on; anon their gazes lend To every place at once, and nowhere fixed, The mind and sight distractedly commixed. Her hair, nor loose nor tied in formal plat, Proclaimed in her a careless hand of pride; For some, untucked, descended her sheaved hat, Hanging her pale and pined cheek beside; Some in her threaden fillet still did bide, And, true to bondage, would not break from thence, Though slackly braided in loose negligence. A thousand favours from a maund she drew Of amber, crystal, and of beaded jet, Which one by one she in a river threw, Upon whose weeping margent she was set; Like usury applying wet to wet, Or monarchs' hands that lets not bounty fall Where want cries some, but where excess begs all. Of folded schedules had she many a one, Which she perused, sighed, tore, and gave the flood; Cracked many a ring of posied gold and bone, Bidding them find their sepulchres in mud; Found yet moe letters sadly penned in blood, With sleided silk feat and affectedly Enswathed and sealed to curious secrecy. These often bathed she in her fluxive eyes, And often kissed, and often 'gan to tear; Cried, 'O false blood, thou register of lies, What unapproved witness dost thou bear! Ink would have seemed more black and damned here! This said, in top of rage the lines she rents, Big discontents so breaking their contents. A reverend man that grazed his cattle nigh, Sometime a blusterer that the ruffle knew Of court, of city, and had let go by The swiftest hours observed as they flew, Towards this afflicted fancy fastly drew; And, privileged by age, desires to know In brief the grounds and motives of her woe. So slides he down upon his grained bat, And comely distant sits he by her side; When he again desires her, being sat, Her grievance with his hearing to divide. If that from him there may be aught applied Which may her suffering ecstasy assuage, 'Tis promised in the charity of age. 'Father,' she says, 'though in me you behold The injury of many a blasting hour, Let it not tell your judgement I am old: Not age, but sorrow, over me hath power. I might as yet have been a spreading flower, Fresh to myself, if I had self-applied Love to myself, and to no love beside. 'But woe is me! too early I attended A youthful suit- it was to gain my grace- O, one by nature's outwards so commended That maidens' eyes stuck over all his face. Love lacked a dwelling and made him her place; And when in his fair parts she did abide, She was new lodged and newly deified. 'His browny locks did hang in crooked curls; And every light occasion of the wind Upon his lips their silken parcels hurls. What's sweet to do, to do will aptly find: Each eye that saw him did enchant the mind; For on his visage was in little drawn What largeness thinks in Paradise was sawn. 'Small show of man was yet upon his chin; His phoenix down began but to appear, Like unshorn velvet, on that termless skin, Whose bare out-bragged the web it seemed to wear: Yet showed his visage by that cost more dear; And nice affections wavering stood in doubt If best were as it was, or best without. 'His qualities were beauteous as his form, For maiden-tongued he was, and thereof free; Yet if men moved him, was he such a storm As oft 'twixt May and April is to see, When winds breathe sweet, unruly though they be. His rudeness so with his authorized youth Did livery falseness in a pride of truth. 'Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by th' well-doing steed. 'But quickly on this side the verdict went: His real habitude gave life and grace To appertainings and to ornament, Accomplished in himself, not in his case, All aids, themselves made fairer by their place, Came for additions; yet their purposed trim Pierced not his grace, but were all graced by him. 'So on the tip of his subduing tongue All kind of arguments and question deep, All replication prompt, and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep. To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep, He had the dialect and different skill, Catching all passions in his craft of will, 'That he did in the general bosom reign Of young, of old, and sexes both enchanted, To dwell with him in thoughts, or to remain In personal duty, following where he haunted. Consents bewitched, ere he desire, have granted, And dialogued for him what he would say, Asked their own wills, and made their wills obey. 'Many there were that did his picture get, To serve their eyes, and in it put their mind; Like fools that in th' imagination set The goodly objects which abroad they find Of lands and mansions, theirs in thought assigned; And labouring in moe pleasures to bestow them Than the true gouty landlord which doth owe them. 'So many have, that never touched his hand, Sweetly supposed them mistress of his heart. My woeful self, that did in freedom stand, And was my own fee-simple, not in part, What with his art in youth, and youth in art, Threw my affections in his charmed power Reserved the stalk and gave him all my flower. 'Yet did I not, as some my equals did, Demand of him, nor being desired yielded; Finding myself in honour so forbid, With safest distance I mine honour shielded. Experience for me many bulwarks builded Of proofs new-bleeding, which remained the foil Of this false jewel, and his amorous spoil. 'But ah, who ever shunned by precedent The destined ill she must herself assay? Or forced examples, 'gainst her own content, To put the by-past perils in her way? Counsel may stop awhile what will not stay; For when we rage, advice is often seen By blunting us to make our wills more keen. 'Nor gives it satisfaction to our blood That we must curb it upon others' proof, To be forbod the sweets that seems so good For fear of harms that preach in our behoof. O appetite, from judgement stand aloof! The one a palate hath that needs will taste, Though Reason weep, and cry it is thy last. 'For further I could say this man's untrue, And knew the patterns of his foul beguiling; Heard where his plants in others' orchards grew; Saw how deceits were gilded in his smiling; Knew vows were ever brokers to defiling; Thought characters and words merely but art, And bastards of his foul adulterate heart. 'And long upon these terms I held my city, Till thus he 'gan besiege me: "Gentle maid, Have of my suffering youth some feeling pity, And be not of my holy vows afraid. That's to ye sworn to none was ever said; For feasts of love I have been called unto, Till now did ne'er invite nor never woo. '"All my offences that abroad you see Are errors of the blood, none of the mind; Love made them not; with acture they may be, Where neither party is nor true nor kind. They sought their shame that so their shame did find; And so much less of shame in me remains By how much of me their reproach contains. '"Among the many that mine eyes have seen, Not one whose flame my heart so much as warmed, Or my affection put to th' smallest teen, Or any of my leisures ever charmed. Harm have I done to them, but ne'er was harmed; Kept hearts in liveries, but mine own was free, And reigned commanding in his monarchy. '"Look here what tributes wounded fancies sent me, Of paled pearls and rubies red as blood; Figuring that they their passions likewise lent me Of grief and blushes, aptly understood In bloodless white and the encrimsoned mood- Effects of terror and dear modesty, Encamped in hearts, but fighting outwardly. '"And, lo, behold these talents of their hair, With twisted metal amorously empleached, I have receiv'd from many a several fair, Their kind acceptance weepingly beseeched, With the annexions of fair gems enriched, And deep-brained sonnets that did amplify Each stone's dear nature, worth, and quality. '"The diamond? why, 'twas beautiful and hard, Whereto his invised properties did tend; The deep-green em'rald, in whose fresh regard Weak sights their sickly radiance do amend; The heaven-hued sapphire and the opal blend With objects manifold; each several stone, With wit well blazoned, smiled, or made some moan. '"Lo, all these trophies of affections hot, Of pensived and subdued desires the tender, Nature hath charged me that I hoard them not, But yield them up where I myself must render- That is, to you, my origin and ender; For these, of force, must your oblations be, Since I their altar, you enpatron me. '"O then advance of yours that phraseless hand Whose white weighs down the airy scale of praise; Take all these similes to your own command, Hallowed with sighs that burning lungs did raise; What me your minister for you obeys Works under you; and to your audit comes Their distract parcels in combined sums. '"Lo, this device was sent me from a nun, Or sister sanctified, of holiest note, Which late her noble suit in court did shun, Whose rarest havings made the blossoms dote; For she was sought by spirits of richest coat, But kept cold distance, and did thence remove To spend her living in eternal love. '"But, O my sweet, what labour is't to leave The thing we have not, mast'ring what not strives, Playing the place which did no form receive, Playing patient sports in unconstrained gyves! She that her fame so to herself contrives, The scars of battle scapeth by the flight, And makes her absence valiant, not her might. '"O pardon me in that my boast is true! The accident which brought me to her eye Upon the moment did her force subdue, And now she would the caged cloister fly. Religious love put out religion's eye. Not to be tempted, would she be immured, And now to tempt all liberty procured. '"How mighty then you are, O hear me tell! The broken bosoms that to me belong Have emptied all their fountains in my well, And mine I pour your ocean all among. I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong, Must for your victory us all congest, As compound love to physic your cold breast. '"My parts had pow'r to charm a sacred nun, Who, disciplined, ay, dieted in grace, Believed her eyes when they t'assail begun, All vows and consecrations giving place, O most potential love, vow, bond, nor space, In thee hath neither sting, knot, nor confine, For thou art all, and all things else are thine. '"When thou impressest, what are precepts worth Of stale example? When thou wilt inflame, How coldly those impediments stand forth, Of wealth, of filial fear, law, kindred, fame! Love's arms are peace, 'gainst rule, 'gainst sense, 'gainst shame. And sweetens, in the suff'ring pangs it bears, The aloes of all forces, shocks and fears. '"Now all these hearts that do on mine depend, Feeling it break, with bleeding groans they pine, And supplicant their sighs to your extend, To leave the batt'ry that you make 'gainst mine, Lending soft audience to my sweet design, And credent soul to that strong-bonded oath, That shall prefer and undertake my troth." 'This said, his wat'ry eyes he did dismount, Whose sights till then were levelled on my face; Each cheek a river running from a fount With brinish current downward flowed apace. O, how the channel to the stream gave grace! Who glazed with crystal gate the glowing roses That flame through water which their hue encloses. 'O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies In the small orb of one particular tear! But with the inundation of the eyes What rocky heart to water will not wear? What breast so cold that is not warmed here? O cleft effect! cold modesty, hot wrath, Both fire from hence and chill extincture hath. 'For lo, his passion, but an art of craft, Even there resolved my reason into tears; There my white stole of chastity I daffed, Shook off my sober guards and civil fears; Appear to him as he to me appears, All melting; though our drops this diff'rence bore: His poisoned me, and mine did him restore. 'In him a plenitude of subtle matter, Applied to cautels, all strange forms receives, Of burning blushes or of weeping water, Or swooning paleness; and he takes and leaves, In either's aptness, as it best deceives, To blush at speeches rank, to weep at woes, Or to turn white and swoon at tragic shows; 'That not a heart which in his level came Could scape the hail of his all-hurting aim, Showing fair nature is both kind and tame; And, veiled in them, did win whom he would maim. Against the thing he sought he would exclaim; When he most burned in heart-wished luxury, He preached pure maid and praised cold chastity. 'Thus merely with the garment of a Grace The naked and concealed fiend he covered, That th' unexperient gave the tempter place, Which, like a cherubin, above them hovered. Who, young and simple, would not be so lovered? Ay me, I fell, and yet do question make What I should do again for such a sake. 'O, that infected moisture of his eye, O, that false fire which in his cheek so glowed, O, that forced thunder from his heart did fly, O, that sad breath his spongy lungs bestowed, O, all that borrowed motion, seeming owed, Would yet again betray the fore-betrayed, And new pervert a reconciled maid.' -THE END- 1608 THE TRAGEDY OF CORIOLANUS by William Shakespeare Dramatis Personae CAIUS MARCIUS, afterwards CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS Generals against the Volscians TITUS LARTIUS COMINIUS MENENIUS AGRIPPA, friend to Coriolanus Tribunes of the People SICINIUS VELUTUS JUNIUS BRUTUS YOUNG MARCIUS, son to Coriolanus A ROMAN HERALD NICANOR, a Roman TULLUS AUFIDIUS, General of the Volscians LIEUTENANT, to Aufidius CONSPIRATORS, With Aufidius ADRIAN, a Volscian A CITIZEN of Antium TWO VOLSCIAN GUARDS VOLUMNIA, mother to Coriolanus VIRGILIA, wife to Coriolanus VALERIA, friend to Virgilia GENTLEWOMAN attending on Virgilia Roman and Volscian Senators, Patricians, Aediles, Lictors, Soldiers, Citizens, Messengers, Servants to Aufidius, and other Attendants SCENE: Rome and the neighbourhood; Corioli and the neighbourhood; Antium ACT I. SCENE I. Rome. A street Enter a company of mutinous citizens, with staves, clubs, and other weapons FIRST CITIZEN. Before we proceed any further, hear me speak. ALL. Speak, speak. FIRST CITIZEN. YOU are all resolv'd rather to die than to famish? ALL. Resolv'd, resolv'd. FIRST CITIZEN. First, you know Caius Marcius is chief enemy to the people. ALL. We know't, we know't. FIRST CITIZEN. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn at our own price. Is't a verdict? ALL. No more talking on't; let it be done. Away, away! SECOND CITIZEN. One word, good citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. We are accounted poor citizens, the patricians good. What authority surfeits on would relieve us; if they would yield us but the superfluity while it were wholesome, we might guess they relieved us humanely; but they think we are too dear. The leanness that afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an inventory to particularize their abundance; our sufferance is a gain to them. Let us revenge this with our pikes ere we become rakes; for the gods know I speak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. SECOND CITIZEN. Would you proceed especially against Caius Marcius? FIRST CITIZEN. Against him first; he's a very dog to the commonalty. SECOND CITIZEN. Consider you what services he has done for his country? FIRST CITIZEN. Very well, and could be content to give him good report for't but that he pays himself with being proud. SECOND CITIZEN. Nay, but speak not maliciously. FIRST CITIZEN. I say unto you, what he hath done famously he did it to that end; though soft-conscienc'd men can be content to say it was for his country, he did it to please his mother and to be partly proud, which he is, even to the altitude of his virtue. SECOND CITIZEN. What he cannot help in his nature you account a vice in him. You must in no way say he is covetous. FIRST CITIZEN. If I must not, I need not be barren of accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, to tire in repetition. [Shouts within] What shouts are these? The other side o' th' city is risen. Why stay we prating here? To th' Capitol! ALL. Come, come. FIRST CITIZEN. Soft! who comes here? Enter MENENIUS AGRIPPA SECOND CITIZEN. Worthy Menenius Agrippa; one that hath always lov'd the people. FIRST CITIZEN. He's one honest enough; would all the rest were so! MENENIUS. What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you. FIRST CITIZEN. Our business is not unknown to th' Senate; they have had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, which now we'll show 'em in deeds. They say poor suitors have strong breaths; they shall know we have strong arms too. MENENIUS. Why, masters, my good friends, mine honest neighbours, Will you undo yourselves? FIRST CITIZEN. We cannot, sir; we are undone already. MENENIUS. I tell you, friends, most charitable care Have the patricians of you. For your wants, Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the heaven with your staves as lift them Against the Roman state; whose course will on The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs Of more strong link asunder than can ever Appear in your impediment. For the dearth, The gods, not the patricians, make it, and Your knees to them, not arms, must help. Alack, You are transported by calamity Thither where more attends you; and you slander The helms o' th' state, who care for you like fathers, When you curse them as enemies. FIRST CITIZEN. Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er car'd for us yet. Suffer us to famish, and their storehouses cramm'd with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us. MENENIUS. Either you must Confess yourselves wondrous malicious, Or be accus'd of folly. I shall tell you A pretty tale. It may be you have heard it; But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture To stale't a little more. FIRST CITIZEN. Well, I'll hear it, sir; yet you must not think to fob off our disgrace with a tale. But, an't please you, deliver. MENENIUS. There was a time when all the body's members Rebell'd against the belly; thus accus'd it: That only like a gulf it did remain I' th' midst o' th' body, idle and unactive, Still cupboarding the viand, never bearing Like labour with the rest; where th' other instruments Did see and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel, And, mutually participate, did minister Unto the appetite and affection common Of the whole body. The belly answer'd- FIRST CITIZEN. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? MENENIUS. Sir, I shall tell you. With a kind of smile, Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even thus- For look you, I may make the belly smile As well as speak- it tauntingly replied To th' discontented members, the mutinous parts That envied his receipt; even so most fitly As you malign our senators for that They are not such as you. FIRST CITIZEN. Your belly's answer- What? The kingly crowned head, the vigilant eye, The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps Is this our fabric, if that they- MENENIUS. What then? Fore me, this fellow speaks! What then? What then? FIRST CITIZEN. Should by the cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sink o' th' body- MENENIUS. Well, what then? FIRST CITIZEN. The former agents, if they did complain, What could the belly answer? MENENIUS. I will tell you; If you'll bestow a small- of what you have little- Patience awhile, you'st hear the belly's answer. FIRST CITIZEN. Y'are long about it. MENENIUS. Note me this, good friend: Your most grave belly was deliberate, Not rash like his accusers, and thus answered. 'True is it, my incorporate friends,' quoth he 'That I receive the general food at first Which you do live upon; and fit it is, Because I am the storehouse and the shop Of the whole body. But, if you do remember, I send it through the rivers of your blood, Even to the court, the heart, to th' seat o' th' brain; And, through the cranks and offices of man, The strongest nerves and small inferior veins From me receive that natural competency Whereby they live. And though that all at once You, my good friends'- this says the belly; mark me. FIRST CITIZEN. Ay, sir; well, well. MENENIUS. 'Though all at once cannot See what I do deliver out to each, Yet I can make my audit up, that all From me do back receive the flour of all, And leave me but the bran.' What say you to' t? FIRST CITIZEN. It was an answer. How apply you this? MENENIUS. The senators of Rome are this good belly, And you the mutinous members; for, examine Their counsels and their cares, digest things rightly Touching the weal o' th' common, you shall find No public benefit which you receive But it proceeds or comes from them to you, And no way from yourselves. What do you think, You, the great toe of this assembly? FIRST CITIZEN. I the great toe? Why the great toe? MENENIUS. For that, being one o' th' lowest, basest, poorest, Of this most wise rebellion, thou goest foremost. Thou rascal, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs. Rome and her rats are at the point of battle; The one side must have bale. Enter CAIUS MARCIUS Hail, noble Marcius! MARCIUS. Thanks. What's the matter, you dissentious rogues That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, Make yourselves scabs? FIRST CITIZEN. We have ever your good word. MARCIUS. He that will give good words to thee will flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you have, you curs, That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; Where foxes, geese; you are no surer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is To make him worthy whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland. What's the matter That in these several places of the city You cry against the noble Senate, who, Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else Would feed on one another? What's their seeking? MENENIUS. For corn at their own rates, whereof they say The city is well stor'd. MARCIUS. Hang 'em! They say! They'll sit by th' fire and presume to know What's done i' th' Capitol, who's like to rise, Who thrives and who declines; side factions, and give out Conjectural marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking Below their cobbled shoes. They say there's grain enough! Would the nobility lay aside their ruth And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry With thousands of these quarter'd slaves, as high As I could pick my lance. MENENIUS. Nay, these are almost thoroughly persuaded; For though abundantly they lack discretion, Yet are they passing cowardly. But, I beseech you, What says the other troop? MARCIUS. They are dissolv'd. Hang 'em! They said they were an-hungry; sigh'd forth proverbs- That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings; which being answer'd, And a petition granted them- a strange one, To break the heart of generosity And make bold power look pale- they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation. MENENIUS. What is granted them? MARCIUS. Five tribunes, to defend their vulgar wisdoms, Of their own choice. One's Junius Brutus- Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. 'Sdeath! The rabble should have first unroof'd the city Ere so prevail'd with me; it will in time Win upon power and throw forth greater themes For insurrection's arguing. MENENIUS. This is strange. MARCIUS. Go get you home, you fragments. Enter a MESSENGER, hastily MESSENGER. Where's Caius Marcius? MARCIUS. Here. What's the matter? MESSENGER. The news is, sir, the Volsces are in arms. MARCIUS. I am glad on't; then we shall ha' means to vent Our musty superfluity. See, our best elders. Enter COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with other SENATORS; JUNIUS BRUTUS and SICINIUS VELUTUS FIRST SENATOR. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately told us: The Volsces are in arms. MARCIUS. They have a leader, Tullus Aufidius, that will put you to't. I sin in envying his nobility; And were I anything but what I am, I would wish me only he. COMINIUS. You have fought together? MARCIUS. Were half to half the world by th' ears, and he Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make Only my wars with him. He is a lion That I am proud to hunt. FIRST SENATOR. Then, worthy Marcius, Attend upon Cominius to these wars. COMINIUS. It is your former promise. MARCIUS. Sir, it is; And I am constant. Titus Lartius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face. What, art thou stiff? Stand'st out? LARTIUS. No, Caius Marcius; I'll lean upon one crutch and fight with t'other Ere stay behind this business. MENENIUS. O, true bred! FIRST SENATOR. Your company to th' Capitol; where, I know, Our greatest friends attend us. LARTIUS. [To COMINIUS] Lead you on. [To MARCIUS] Follow Cominius; we must follow you; Right worthy you priority. COMINIUS. Noble Marcius! FIRST SENATOR. [To the Citizens] Hence to your homes; be gone. MARCIUS. Nay, let them follow. The Volsces have much corn: take these rats thither To gnaw their garners. Worshipful mutineers, Your valour puts well forth; pray follow. Ciitzens steal away. Exeunt all but SICINIUS and BRUTUS SICINIUS. Was ever man so proud as is this Marcius? BRUTUS. He has no equal. SICINIUS. When we were chosen tribunes for the people- BRUTUS. Mark'd you his lip and eyes? SICINIUS. Nay, but his taunts! BRUTUS. Being mov'd, he will not spare to gird the gods. SICINIUS. Bemock the modest moon. BRUTUS. The present wars devour him! He is grown Too proud to be so valiant. SICINIUS. Such a nature, Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow Which he treads on at noon. But I do wonder His insolence can brook to be commanded Under Cominius. BRUTUS. Fame, at the which he aims- In whom already he is well grac'd- cannot Better be held nor more attain'd than by A place below the first; for what miscarries Shall be the general's fault, though he perform To th' utmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Marcius 'O, if he Had borne the business!' SICINIUS. Besides, if things go well, Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall Of his demerits rob Cominius. BRUTUS. Come. Half all Cominius' honours are to Marcius, Though Marcius earn'd them not; and all his faults To Marcius shall be honours, though indeed In aught he merit not. SICINIUS. Let's hence and hear How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion, More than his singularity, he goes Upon this present action. BRUTUS. Let's along. Exeunt SCENE II. Corioli. The Senate House. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with SENATORS of Corioli FIRST SENATOR. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, That they of Rome are ent'red in our counsels And know how we proceed. AUFIDIUS. Is it not yours? What ever have been thought on in this state That could be brought to bodily act ere Rome Had circumvention? 'Tis not four days gone Since I heard thence; these are the words- I think I have the letter here;.yes, here it is: [Reads] 'They have press'd a power, but it is not known Whether for east or west. The dearth is great; The people mutinous; and it is rumour'd, Cominius, Marcius your old enemy, Who is of Rome worse hated than of you, And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three lead on this preparation Whither 'tis bent. Most likely 'tis for you; Consider of it.' FIRST SENATOR. Our army's in the field; We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer us. AUFIDIUS. Nor did you think it folly To keep your great pretences veil'd till when They needs must show themselves; which in the hatching, It seem'd, appear'd to Rome. By the discovery We shall be short'ned in our aim, which was To take in many towns ere almost Rome Should know we were afoot. SECOND SENATOR. Noble Aufidius, Take your commission; hie you to your bands; Let us alone to guard Corioli. If they set down before's, for the remove Bring up your army; but I think you'll find Th' have not prepar'd for us. AUFIDIUS. O, doubt not that! I speak from certainties. Nay more, Some parcels of their power are forth already, And only hitherward. I leave your honours. If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, 'Tis sworn between us we shall ever strike Till one can do no more. ALL. The gods assist you! AUFIDIUS. And keep your honours safe! FIRST SENATOR. Farewell. SECOND SENATOR. Farewell. ALL. Farewell. Exeunt SCENE III. Rome. MARCIUS' house Enter VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA, mother and wife to MARCIUS; they set them down on two low stools and sew VOLUMNIA. I pray you, daughter, sing, or express yourself in a more comfortable sort. If my son were my husband, I should freelier rejoice in that absence wherein he won honour than in the embracements of his bed where he would show most love. When yet he was but tender-bodied, and the only son of my womb; when youth with comeliness pluck'd all gaze his way; when, for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother should not sell him an hour from her beholding; I, considering how honour would become such a person- that it was no better than picture-like to hang by th' wall, if renown made it not stir- was pleas'd to let him seek danger where he was to find fame. To a cruel war I sent him, from whence he return'd his brows bound with oak. I tell thee, daughter, I sprang not more in joy at first hearing he was a man-child than now in first seeing he had proved himself a man. VIRGILIA. But had he died in the business, madam, how then? VOLUMNIA. Then his good report should have been my son; I therein would have found issue. Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather had eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. Enter a GENTLEWOMAN GENTLEWOMAN. Madam, the Lady Valeria is come to visit you. VIRGILIA. Beseech you give me leave to retire myself. VOLUMNIA. Indeed you shall not. Methinks I hear hither your husband's drum; See him pluck Aufidius down by th' hair; As children from a bear, the Volsces shunning him. Methinks I see him stamp thus, and call thus: 'Come on, you cowards! You were got in fear, Though you were born in Rome.' His bloody brow With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes, Like to a harvest-man that's task'd to mow Or all or lose his hire. VIRGILIA. His bloody brow? O Jupiter, no blood! VOLUMNIA. Away, you fool! It more becomes a man Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword, contemning. Tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome. Exit GENTLEWOMAN VIRGILIA. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufidius! VOLUMNIA. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his knee And tread upon his neck. Re-enter GENTLEWOMAN, With VALERIA and an usher VALERIA. My ladies both, good day to you. VOLUMNIA. Sweet madam! VIRGILIA. I am glad to see your ladyship. VALERIA. How do you both? You are manifest housekeepers. What are you sewing here? A fine spot, in good faith. How does your little son? VIRGILIA. I thank your ladyship; well, good madam. VOLUMNIA. He had rather see the swords and hear a drum than look upon his schoolmaster. VALERIA. O' my word, the father's son! I'll swear 'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, I look'd upon him a Wednesday half an hour together; has such a confirm'd countenance! I saw him run after a gilded butterfly; and when he caught it he let it go again, and after it again, and over and over he comes, and up again, catch'd it again; or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth and tear it. O, I warrant, how he mammock'd it! VOLUMNIA. One on's father's moods. VALERIA. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. VIRGILIA. A crack, madam. VALERIA. Come, lay aside your stitchery; I must have you play the idle huswife with me this afternoon. VIRGILIA. No, good madam; I will not out of doors. VALERIA. Not out of doors! VOLUMNIA. She shall, she shall. VIRGILIA. Indeed, no, by your patience; I'll not over the threshold till my lord return from the wars. VALERIA. Fie, you confine yourself most unreasonably; come, you must go visit the good lady that lies in. VIRGILIA. I will wish her speedy strength, and visit her with my prayers; but I cannot go thither. VOLUMNIA. Why, I pray you? VIRGILIA. 'Tis not to save labour, nor that I want love. VALERIA. You would be another Penelope; yet they say all the yarn she spun in Ulysses' absence did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come, I would your cambric were sensible as your finger, that you might leave pricking it for pity. Come, you shall go with us. VIRGILIA. No, good madam, pardon me; indeed I will not forth. VALERIA. In truth, la, go with me; and I'll tell you excellent news of your husband. VIRGILIA. O, good madam, there can be none yet. VALERIA. Verily, I do not jest with you; there came news from him last night. VIRGILIA. Indeed, madam? VALERIA. In earnest, it's true; I heard a senator speak it. Thus it is: the Volsces have an army forth; against whom Cominius the general is gone, with one part of our Roman power. Your lord and Titus Lartius are set down before their city Corioli; they nothing doubt prevailing and to make it brief wars. This is true, on mine honour; and so, I pray, go with us. VIRGILIA. Give me excuse, good madam; I will obey you in everything hereafter. VOLUMNIA. Let her alone, lady; as she is now, she will but disease our better mirth. VALERIA. In troth, I think she would. Fare you well, then. Come, good sweet lady. Prithee, Virgilia, turn thy solemness out o' door and go along with us. VIRGILIA. No, at a word, madam; indeed I must not. I wish you much mirth. VALERIA. Well then, farewell. Exeunt SCENE IV. Before Corioli Enter MARCIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, with drum and colours, with CAPTAINS and soldiers. To them a MESSENGER MARCIUS. Yonder comes news; a wager- they have met. LARTIUS. My horse to yours- no. MARCIUS. 'Tis done. LARTIUS. Agreed. MARCIUS. Say, has our general met the enemy? MESSENGER. They lie in view, but have not spoke as yet. LARTIUS. So, the good horse is mine. MARCIUS. I'll buy him of you. LARTIUS. No, I'll nor sell nor give him; lend you him I will For half a hundred years. Summon the town. MARCIUS. How far off lie these armies? MESSENGER. Within this mile and half. MARCIUS. Then shall we hear their 'larum, and they ours. Now, Mars, I prithee, make us quick in work, That we with smoking swords may march from hence To help our fielded friends! Come, blow thy blast. They sound a parley. Enter two SENATORS with others, on the walls of Corioli Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? FIRST SENATOR. No, nor a man that fears you less than he: That's lesser than a little. [Drum afar off] Hark, our drums Are bringing forth our youth. We'll break our walls Rather than they shall pound us up; our gates, Which yet seem shut, we have but pinn'd with rushes; They'll open of themselves. [Alarum far off] Hark you far off! There is Aufidius. List what work he makes Amongst your cloven army. MARCIUS. O, they are at it! LARTIUS. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders, ho! Enter the army of the Volsces MARCIUS. They fear us not, but issue forth their city. Now put your shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proof than shields. Advance, brave Titus. They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, Which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on, my fellows. He that retires, I'll take him for a Volsce, And he shall feel mine edge. Alarum. The Romans are beat back to their trenches. Re-enter MARCIUS, cursing MARCIUS. All the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome! you herd of- Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er, that you may be abhorr'd Farther than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat! Pluto and hell! All hurt behind! Backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe And make my wars on you. Look to't. Come on; If you'll stand fast we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches. Follow me. Another alarum. The Volsces fly, and MARCIUS follows them to the gates So, now the gates are ope; now prove good seconds; 'Tis for the followers fortune widens them, Not for the fliers. Mark me, and do the like. [MARCIUS enters the gates] FIRST SOLDIER. Fool-hardiness; not I. SECOND SOLDIER. Not I. [MARCIUS is shut in] FIRST SOLDIER. See, they have shut him in. ALL. To th' pot, I warrant him. [Alarum continues] Re-enter TITUS LARTIUS LARTIUS. What is become of Marcius? ALL. Slain, sir, doubtless. FIRST SOLDIER. Following the fliers at the very heels, With them he enters; who, upon the sudden, Clapp'd to their gates. He is himself alone, To answer all the city. LARTIUS. O noble fellow! Who sensibly outdares his senseless sword, And when it bows stand'st up. Thou art left, Marcius; A carbuncle entire, as big as thou art, Were not so rich a jewel. Thou wast a soldier Even to Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible Only in strokes; but with thy grim looks and The thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the world Were feverous and did tremble. Re-enter MARCIUS, bleeding, assaulted by the enemy FIRST SOLDIER. Look, sir. LARTIUS. O, 'tis Marcius! Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. [They fight, and all enter the city] SCENE V. Within Corioli. A street Enter certain Romans, with spoils FIRST ROMAN. This will I carry to Rome. SECOND ROMAN. And I this. THIRD ROMAN. A murrain on 't! I took this for silver. [Alarum continues still afar off] Enter MARCIUS and TITUS LARTIUS With a trumpeter MARCIUS. See here these movers that do prize their hours At a crack'd drachma! Cushions, leaden spoons, Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would Bury with those that wore them, these base slaves, Ere yet the fight be done, pack up. Down with them! Exeunt pillagers And hark, what noise the general makes! To him! There is the man of my soul's hate, Aufidius, Piercing our Romans; then, valiant Titus, take Convenient numbers to make good the city; Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will haste To help Cominius. LARTIUS. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st; Thy exercise hath been too violent For a second course of fight. MARCIUS. Sir, praise me not; My work hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well; The blood I drop is rather physical Than dangerous to me. To Aufidius thus I will appear, and fight. LARTIUS. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords! Bold gentleman, Prosperity be thy page! MARCIUS. Thy friend no less Than those she placeth highest! So farewell. LARTIUS. Thou worthiest Marcius! Exit MARCIUS Go sound thy trumpet in the market-place; Call thither all the officers o' th' town, Where they shall know our mind. Away! Exeunt SCENE VI. Near the camp of COMINIUS Enter COMINIUS, as it were in retire, with soldiers COMINIUS. Breathe you, my friends. Well fought; we are come off Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands Nor cowardly in retire. Believe me, sirs, We shall be charg'd again. Whiles we have struck, By interims and conveying gusts we have heard The charges of our friends. The Roman gods, Lead their successes as we wish our own, That both our powers, with smiling fronts encount'ring, May give you thankful sacrifice! Enter A MESSENGER Thy news? MESSENGER. The citizens of Corioli have issued And given to Lartius and to Marcius battle; I saw our party to their trenches driven, And then I came away. COMINIUS. Though thou speak'st truth, Methinks thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? MESSENGER. Above an hour, my lord. COMINIUS. 'Tis not a mile; briefly we heard their drums. How couldst thou in a mile confound an hour, And bring thy news so late? MESSENGER. Spies of the Volsces Held me in chase, that I was forc'd to wheel Three or four miles about; else had I, sir, Half an hour since brought my report. Enter MARCIUS COMINIUS. Who's yonder That does appear as he were flay'd? O gods! He has the stamp of Marcius, and I have Before-time seen him thus. MARCIUS. Come I too late? COMINIUS. The shepherd knows not thunder from a tabor More than I know the sound of Marcius' tongue From every meaner man. MARCIUS. Come I too late? COMINIUS. Ay, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your own. MARCIUS. O! let me clip ye In arms as sound as when I woo'd, in heart As merry as when our nuptial day was done, And tapers burn'd to bedward. COMINIUS. Flower of warriors, How is't with Titus Lartius? MARCIUS. As with a man busied about decrees: Condemning some to death and some to exile; Ransoming him or pitying, threat'ning th' other; Holding Corioli in the name of Rome Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, To let him slip at will. COMINIUS. Where is that slave Which told me they had beat you to your trenches? Where is he? Call him hither. MARCIUS. Let him alone; He did inform the truth. But for our gentlemen, The common file- a plague! tribunes for them! The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat as they did budge From rascals worse than they. COMINIUS. But how prevail'd you? MARCIUS. Will the time serve to tell? I do not think. Where is the enemy? Are you lords o' th' field? If not, why cease you till you are so? COMINIUS. Marcius, We have at disadvantage fought, and did Retire to win our purpose. MARCIUS. How lies their battle? Know you on which side They have plac'd their men of trust? COMINIUS. As I guess, Marcius, Their bands i' th' vaward are the Antiates, Of their best trust; o'er them Aufidius, Their very heart of hope. MARCIUS. I do beseech you, By all the battles wherein we have fought, By th' blood we have shed together, by th' vows We have made to endure friends, that you directly Set me against Aufidius and his Antiates; And that you not delay the present, but, Filling the air with swords advanc'd and darts, We prove this very hour. COMINIUS. Though I could wish You were conducted to a gentle bath And balms applied to you, yet dare I never Deny your asking: take your choice of those That best can aid your action. MARCIUS. Those are they That most are willing. If any such be here- As it were sin to doubt- that love this painting Wherein you see me smear'd; if any fear Lesser his person than an ill report; If any think brave death outweighs bad life And that his country's dearer than himself; Let him alone, or so many so minded, Wave thus to express his disposition, And follow Marcius. [They all shout and wave their swords, take him up in their arms and cast up their caps] O, me alone! Make you a sword of me? If these shows be not outward, which of you But is four Volsces? None of you but is Able to bear against the great Aufidius A shield as hard as his. A certain number, Though thanks to all, must I select from all; the rest Shall bear the business in some other fight, As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march; And four shall quickly draw out my command, Which men are best inclin'd. COMINIUS. March on, my fellows; Make good this ostentation, and you shall Divide in all with us. Exeunt SCENE VII. The gates of Corioli TITUS LARTIUS, having set a guard upon Corioli, going with drum and trumpet toward COMINIUS and CAIUS MARCIUS, enters with a LIEUTENANT, other soldiers, and a scout LARTIUS. So, let the ports be guarded; keep your duties As I have set them down. If I do send, dispatch Those centuries to our aid; the rest will serve For a short holding. If we lose the field We cannot keep the town. LIEUTENANT. Fear not our care, sir. LARTIUS. Hence, and shut your gates upon's. Our guider, come; to th' Roman camp conduct us. Exeunt SCENE VIII. A field of battle between the Roman and the Volscian camps Alarum, as in battle. Enter MARCIUS and AUFIDIUS at several doors MARCIUS. I'll fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse than a promise-breaker. AUFIDIUS. We hate alike: Not Afric owns a serpent I abhor More than thy fame and envy. Fix thy foot. MARCIUS. Let the first budger die the other's slave, And the gods doom him after! AUFIDIUS. If I fly, Marcius, Halloa me like a hare. MARCIUS. Within these three hours, Tullus, Alone I fought in your Corioli walls, And made what work I pleas'd. 'Tis not my blood Wherein thou seest me mask'd. For thy revenge Wrench up thy power to th' highest. AUFIDIUS. Wert thou the Hector That was the whip of your bragg'd progeny, Thou shouldst not scape me here. Here they fight, and certain Volsces come in the aid of AUFIDIUS. MARCIUS fights till they be driven in breathless Officious, and not valiant, you have sham'd me In your condemned seconds. Exeunt SCENE IX. The Roman camp Flourish. Alarum. A retreat is sounded. Enter, at one door, COMINIUS with the Romans; at another door, MARCIUS, with his arm in a scarf COMINIUS. If I should tell thee o'er this thy day's work, Thou't not believe thy deeds; but I'll report it Where senators shall mingle tears with smiles; Where great patricians shall attend, and shrug, I' th' end admire; where ladies shall be frighted And, gladly quak'd, hear more; where the dull tribunes, That with the fusty plebeians hate thine honours, Shall say against their hearts 'We thank the gods Our Rome hath such a soldier.' Yet cam'st thou to a morsel of this feast, Having fully din'd before. Enter TITUS LARTIUS, with his power, from the pursuit LARTIUS. O General, Here is the steed, we the caparison. Hadst thou beheld- MARCIUS. Pray now, no more; my mother, Who has a charter to extol her blood, When she does praise me grieves me. I have done As you have done- that's what I can; induc'd As you have been- that's for my country. He that has but effected his good will Hath overta'en mine act. COMINIUS. You shall not be The grave of your deserving; Rome must know The value of her own. 'Twere a concealment Worse than a theft, no less than a traducement, To hide your doings and to silence that Which, to the spire and top of praises vouch'd, Would seem but modest. Therefore, I beseech you, In sign of what you are, not to reward What you have done, before our army hear me. MARCIUS. I have some wounds upon me, and they smart To hear themselves rememb'red. COMINIUS. Should they not, Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude And tent themselves with death. Of all the horses- Whereof we have ta'en good, and good store- of all The treasure in this field achiev'd and city, We render you the tenth; to be ta'en forth Before the common distribution at Your only choice. MARCIUS. I thank you, General, But cannot make my heart consent to take A bribe to pay my sword. I do refuse it, And stand upon my common part with those That have beheld the doing. A long flourish. They all cry 'Marcius, Marcius!' cast up their caps and lances. COMINIUS and LARTIUS stand bare May these same instruments which you profane Never sound more! When drums and trumpets shall I' th' field prove flatterers, let courts and cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing. When steel grows Soft as the parasite's silk, let him be made An overture for th' wars. No more, I say. For that I have not wash'd my nose that bled, Or foil'd some debile wretch, which without note Here's many else have done, you shout me forth In acclamations hyperbolical, As if I lov'd my little should be dieted In praises sauc'd with lies. COMINIUS. Too modest are you; More cruel to your good report than grateful To us that give you truly. By your patience, If 'gainst yourself you be incens'd, we'll put you- Like one that means his proper harm- in manacles, Then reason safely with you. Therefore be it known, As to us, to all the world, that Caius Marcius Wears this war's garland; in token of the which, My noble steed, known to the camp, I give him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioli, can him With all th' applause-and clamour of the host, Caius Marcius Coriolanus. Bear th' addition nobly ever! [Flourish. Trumpets sound, and drums] ALL. Caius Marcius Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS. I will go wash; And when my face is fair you shall perceive Whether I blush or no. Howbeit, I thank you; I mean to stride your steed, and at all times To undercrest your good addition To th' fairness of my power. COMINIUS. So, to our tent; Where, ere we do repose us, we will write To Rome of our success. You, Titus Lartius, Must to Corioli back. Send us to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate For their own good and ours. LARTIUS. I shall, my lord. CORIOLANUS. The gods begin to mock me. I, that now Refus'd most princely gifts, am bound to beg Of my Lord General. COMINIUS. Take't- 'tis yours; what is't? CORIOLANUS. I sometime lay here in Corioli At a poor man's house; he us'd me kindly. He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; But then Aufidius was within my view, And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity. I request you To give my poor host freedom. COMINIUS. O, well begg'd! Were he the butcher of my son, he should Be free as is the wind. Deliver him, Titus. LARTIUS. Marcius, his name? CORIOLANUS. By Jupiter, forgot! I am weary; yea, my memory is tir'd. Have we no wine here? COMINIUS. Go we to our tent. The blood upon your visage dries; 'tis time It should be look'd to. Come. Exeunt SCENE X. The camp of the Volsces A flourish. Cornets. Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS bloody, with two or three soldiers AUFIDIUS. The town is ta'en. FIRST SOLDIER. 'Twill be deliver'd back on good condition. AUFIDIUS. Condition! I would I were a Roman; for I cannot, Being a Volsce, be that I am. Condition? What good condition can a treaty find I' th' part that is at mercy? Five times, Marcius, I have fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me; And wouldst do so, I think, should we encounter As often as we eat. By th' elements, If e'er again I meet him beard to beard, He's mine or I am his. Mine emulation Hath not that honour in't it had; for where I thought to crush him in an equal force, True sword to sword, I'll potch at him some way, Or wrath or craft may get him. FIRST SOLDIER. He's the devil. AUFIDIUS. Bolder, though not so subtle. My valour's poison'd With only suff'ring stain by him; for him Shall fly out of itself. Nor sleep nor sanctuary, Being naked, sick, nor fane nor Capitol, The prayers of priests nor times of sacrifice, Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, even there, Against the hospitable canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' city; Learn how 'tis held, and what they are that must Be hostages for Rome. FIRST SOLDIER. Will not you go? AUFIDIUS. I am attended at the cypress grove; I pray you- 'Tis south the city mills- bring me word thither How the world goes, that to the pace of it I may spur on my journey. FIRST SOLDIER. I shall, sir. Exeunt ACT II. SCENE I. Rome. A public place Enter MENENIUS, with the two Tribunes of the people, SICINIUS and BRUTUS MENENIUS. The augurer tells me we shall have news tonight. BRUTUS. Good or bad? MENENIUS. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they love not Marcius. SICINIUS. Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. MENENIUS. Pray you, who does the wolf love? SICINIUS. The lamb. MENENIUS. Ay, to devour him, as the hungry plebeians would the noble Marcius. BRUTUS. He's a lamb indeed, that baes like a bear. MENENIUS. He's a bear indeed, that lives fike a lamb. You two are old men; tell me one thing that I shall ask you. BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, sir. MENENIUS. In what enormity is Marcius poor in that you two have not in abundance? BRUTUS. He's poor in no one fault, but stor'd with all. SICINIUS. Especially in pride. BRUTUS. And topping all others in boasting. MENENIUS. This is strange now. Do you two know how you are censured here in the city- I mean of us o' th' right-hand file? Do you? BOTH TRIBUNES. Why, how are we censur'd? MENENIUS. Because you talk of pride now- will you not be angry? BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, well, sir, well. MENENIUS. Why, 'tis no great matter; for a very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience. Give your dispositions the reins, and be angry at your pleasures- at the least, if you take it as a pleasure to you in being so. You blame Marcius for being proud? BRUTUS. We do it not alone, sir. MENENIUS. I know you can do very little alone; for your helps are many, or else your actions would grow wondrous single: your abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone. You talk of pride. O that you could turn your eyes toward the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves! O that you could! BOTH TRIBUNES. What then, sir? MENENIUS. Why, then you should discover a brace of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magistrates-alias fools- as any in Rome. SICINIUS. Menenius, you are known well enough too. MENENIUS. I am known to be a humorous patrician, and one that loves a cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in't; said to be something imperfect in favouring the first complaint, hasty and tinder-like upon too trivial motion; one that converses more with the buttock of the night than with the forehead of the morning. What I think I utter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such wealsmen as you are- I cannot call you Lycurguses- if the drink you give me touch my palate adversely, I make a crooked face at it. I cannot say your worships have deliver'd the matter well, when I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables; and though I must be content to bear with those that say you are reverend grave men, yet they lie deadly that tell you you have good faces. If you see this in the map of my microcosm, follows it that I am known well enough too? What harm can your bisson conspectuities glean out of this character, if I be known well enough too? BRUTUS. Come, sir, come, we know you well enough. MENENIUS. You know neither me, yourselves, nor any thing. You are ambitious for poor knaves' caps and legs; you wear out a good wholesome forenoon in hearing a cause between an orange-wife and a fosset-seller, and then rejourn the controversy of threepence to a second day of audience. When you are hearing a matter between party and party, if you chance to be pinch'd with the colic, you make faces like mummers, set up the bloody flag against all patience, and, in roaring for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing. All the peace you make in their cause is calling both the parties knaves. You are a pair of strange ones. BRUTUS. Come, come, you are well understood to be a perfecter giber for the table than a necessary bencher in the Capitol. MENENIUS. Our very priests must become mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are. When you speak best unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging of your beards; and your beards deserve not so honourable a grave as to stuff a botcher's cushion or to be entomb'd in an ass's pack-saddle. Yet you must be saying Marcius is proud; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth all your predecessors since Deucalion; though peradventure some of the best of 'em were hereditary hangmen. God-den to your worships. More of your conversation would infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the beastly plebeians. I will be bold to take my leave of you. [BRUTUS and SICINIUS go aside] Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and VALERIA How now, my as fair as noble ladies- and the moon, were she earthly, no nobler- whither do you follow your eyes so fast? VOLUMNIA. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius approaches; for the love of Juno, let's go. MENENIUS. Ha! Marcius coming home? VOLUMNIA. Ay, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation. MENENIUS. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank thee. Hoo! Marcius coming home! VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA. Nay, 'tis true. VOLUMNIA. Look, here's a letter from him; the state hath another, his wife another; and I think there's one at home for you. MENENIUS. I will make my very house reel to-night. A letter for me? VIRGILIA. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you; I saw't. MENENIUS. A letter for me! It gives me an estate of seven years' health; in which time I will make a lip at the physician. The most sovereign prescription in Galen is but empiricutic and, to this preservative, of no better report than a horse-drench. Is he not wounded? He was wont to come home wounded. VIRGILIA. O, no, no, no. VOLUMNIA. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. MENENIUS. So do I too, if it be not too much. Brings a victory in his pocket? The wounds become him. VOLUMNIA. On's brows, Menenius, he comes the third time home with the oaken garland. MENENIUS. Has he disciplin'd Aufidius soundly? VOLUMNIA. Titus Lartius writes they fought together, but Aufidius got off. MENENIUS. And 'twas time for him too, I'll warrant him that; an he had stay'd by him, I would not have been so fidius'd for all the chests in Corioli and the gold that's in them. Is the Senate possess'd of this? VOLUMNIA. Good ladies, let's go. Yes, yes, yes: the Senate has letters from the general, wherein he gives my son the whole name of the war; he hath in this action outdone his former deeds doubly. VALERIA. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him. MENENIUS. Wondrous! Ay, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing. VIRGILIA. The gods grant them true! VOLUMNIA. True! pow, waw. MENENIUS. True! I'll be sworn they are true. Where is he wounded? [To the TRIBUNES] God save your good worships! Marcius is coming home; he has more cause to be proud. Where is he wounded? VOLUMNIA. I' th' shoulder and i' th' left arm; there will be large cicatrices to show the people when he shall stand for his place. He received in the repulse of Tarquin seven hurts i' th' body. MENENIUS. One i' th' neck and two i' th' thigh- there's nine that I know. VOLUMNIA. He had before this last expedition twenty-five wounds upon him. MENENIUS. Now it's twenty-seven; every gash was an enemy's grave. [A shout and flourish] Hark! the trumpets. VOLUMNIA. These are the ushers of Marcius. Before him he carries noise, and behind him he leaves tears; Death, that dark spirit, in's nervy arm doth lie, Which, being advanc'd, declines, and then men die. A sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter COMINIUS the GENERAL, and TITUS LARTIUS; between them, CORIOLANUS, crown'd with an oaken garland; with CAPTAINS and soldiers and a HERALD HERALD. Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius did fight Within Corioli gates, where he hath won, With fame, a name to Caius Marcius; these In honour follows Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! [Flourish] ALL. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus! CORIOLANUS. No more of this, it does offend my heart. Pray now, no more. COMINIUS. Look, sir, your mother! CORIOLANUS. O, You have, I know, petition'd all the gods For my prosperity! [Kneels] VOLUMNIA. Nay, my good soldier, up; My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and By deed-achieving honour newly nam'd- What is it? Coriolanus must I can thee? But, O, thy wife! CORIOLANUS. My gracious silence, hail! Wouldst thou have laugh'd had I come coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear, And mothers that lack sons. MENENIUS. Now the gods crown thee! CORIOLANUS. And live you yet? [To VALERIA] O my sweet lady, pardon. VOLUMNIA. I know not where to turn. O, welcome home! And welcome, General. And y'are welcome all. MENENIUS. A hundred thousand welcomes. I could weep And I could laugh; I am light and heavy. Welcome! A curse begin at very root on's heart That is not glad to see thee! You are three That Rome should dote on; yet, by the faith of men, We have some old crab trees here at home that will not Be grafted to your relish. Yet welcome, warriors. We call a nettle but a nettle, and The faults of fools but folly. COMINIUS. Ever right. CORIOLANUS. Menenius ever, ever. HERALD. Give way there, and go on. CORIOLANUS. [To his wife and mother] Your hand, and yours. Ere in our own house I do shade my head, The good patricians must be visited; From whom I have receiv'd not only greetings, But with them change of honours. VOLUMNIA. I have lived To see inherited my very wishes, And the buildings of my fancy; only There's one thing wanting, which I doubt not but Our Rome will cast upon thee. CORIOLANUS. Know, good mother, I had rather be their servant in my way Than sway with them in theirs. COMINIUS. On, to the Capitol. [Flourish. Cornets. Exeunt in state, as before] BRUTUS and SICINIUS come forward BRUTUS. All tongues speak of him and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your prattling nurse Into a rapture lets her baby cry While she chats him; the kitchen malkin pins Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck, Clamb'ring the walls to eye him; stalls, bulks, windows, Are smother'd up, leads fill'd and ridges hors'd With variable complexions, all agreeing In earnestness to see him. Seld-shown flamens Do press among the popular throngs and puff To win a vulgar station; our veil'd dames Commit the war of white and damask in Their nicely gawded cheeks to th' wanton spoil Of Phoebus' burning kisses. Such a pother, As if that whatsoever god who leads him Were slily crept into his human powers, And gave him graceful posture. SICINIUS. On the sudden I warrant him consul. BRUTUS. Then our office may During his power go sleep. SICINIUS. He cannot temp'rately transport his honours From where he should begin and end, but will Lose those he hath won. BRUTUS. In that there's comfort. SICINIUS. Doubt not The commoners, for whom we stand, but they Upon their ancient malice will forget With the least cause these his new honours; which That he will give them make I as little question As he is proud to do't. BRUTUS. I heard him swear, Were he to stand for consul, never would he Appear i' th' market-place, nor on him put The napless vesture of humility; Nor, showing, as the manner is, his wounds To th' people, beg their stinking breaths. SICINIUS. 'Tis right. BRUTUS. It was his word. O, he would miss it rather Than carry it but by the suit of the gentry to him And the desire of the nobles. SICINIUS. I wish no better Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it In execution. BRUTUS. 'Tis most like he will. SICINIUS. It shall be to him then as our good wills: A sure destruction. BRUTUS. So it must fall out To him or our authorities. For an end, We must suggest the people in what hatred He still hath held them; that to's power he would Have made them mules, silenc'd their pleaders, and Dispropertied their freedoms; holding them In human action and capacity Of no more soul nor fitness for the world Than camels in their war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens, and sore blows For sinking under them. SICINIUS. This, as you say, suggested At some time when his soaring insolence Shall touch the people- which time shall not want, If he be put upon't, and that's as easy As to set dogs on sheep- will be his fire To kindle their dry stubble; and their blaze Shall darken him for ever. Enter A MESSENGER BRUTUS. What's the matter? MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Capitol. 'Tis thought That Marcius shall be consul. I have seen the dumb men throng to see him and The blind to hear him speak; matrons flung gloves, Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchers, Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended As to Jove's statue, and the commons made A shower and thunder with their caps and shouts. I never saw the like. BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol, And carry with us ears and eyes for th' time, But hearts for the event. SICINIUS. Have with you. Exeunt SCENE II. Rome. The Capitol Enter two OFFICERS, to lay cushions, as it were in the Capitol FIRST OFFICER. Come, come, they are almost here. How many stand for consulships? SECOND OFFICER. Three, they say; but 'tis thought of every one Coriolanus will carry it. FIRST OFFICER. That's a brave fellow; but he's vengeance proud and loves not the common people. SECOND OFFICER. Faith, there have been many great men that have flatter'd the people, who ne'er loved them; and there be many that they have loved, they know not wherefore; so that, if they love they know not why, they hate upon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neither to care whether they love or hate him manifests the true knowledge he has in their disposition, and out of his noble carelessness lets them plainly see't. FIRST OFFICER. If he did not care whether he had their love or no, he waved indifferently 'twixt doing them neither good nor harm; but he seeks their hate with greater devotion than they can render it him, and leaves nothing undone that may fully discover him their opposite. Now to seem to affect the malice and displeasure of the people is as bad as that which he dislikes- to flatter them for their love. SECOND OFFICER. He hath deserved worthily of his country; and his ascent is not by such easy degrees as those who, having been supple and courteous to the people, bonneted, without any further deed to have them at all, into their estimation and report; but he hath so planted his honours in their eyes and his actions in their hearts that for their tongues to be silent and not confess so much were a kind of ingrateful injury; to report otherwise were a malice that, giving itself the lie, would pluck reproof and rebuke from every car that heard it. FIRST OFFICER. No more of him; he's a worthy man. Make way, they are coming. A sennet. Enter the PATRICIANS and the TRIBUNES OF THE PEOPLE, LICTORS before them; CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, COMINIUS the Consul. SICINIUS and BRUTUS take their places by themselves. CORIOLANUS stands MENENIUS. Having determin'd of the Volsces, and To send for Titus Lartius, it remains, As the main point of this our after-meeting, To gratify his noble service that Hath thus stood for his country. Therefore please you, Most reverend and grave elders, to desire The present consul and last general In our well-found successes to report A little of that worthy work perform'd By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom We met here both to thank and to remember With honours like himself. [CORIOLANUS sits] FIRST SENATOR. Speak, good Cominius. Leave nothing out for length, and make us think Rather our state's defective for requital Than we to stretch it out. Masters o' th' people, We do request your kindest ears; and, after, Your loving motion toward the common body, To yield what passes here. SICINIUS. We are convented Upon a pleasing treaty, and have hearts Inclinable to honour and advance The theme of our assembly. BRUTUS. Which the rather We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember A kinder value of the people than He hath hereto priz'd them at. MENENIUS. That's off, that's off; I would you rather had been silent. Please you To hear Cominius speak? BRUTUS. Most willingly. But yet my caution was more pertinent Than the rebuke you give it. MENENIUS. He loves your people; But tie him not to be their bedfellow. Worthy Cominius, speak. [CORIOLANUS rises, and offers to go away] Nay, keep your place. FIRST SENATOR. Sit, Coriolanus, never shame to hear What you have nobly done. CORIOLANUS. Your Honours' pardon. I had rather have my wounds to heal again Than hear say how I got them. BRUTUS. Sir, I hope My words disbench'd you not. CORIOLANUS. No, sir; yet oft, When blows have made me stay, I fled from words. You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not. But your people, I love them as they weigh- MENENIUS. Pray now, sit down. CORIOLANUS. I had rather have one scratch my head i' th' sun When the alarum were struck than idly sit To hear my nothings monster'd. Exit MENENIUS. Masters of the people, Your multiplying spawn how can he flatter- That's thousand to one good one- when you now see He had rather venture all his limbs for honour Than one on's ears to hear it? Proceed, Cominius. COMINIUS. I shall lack voice; the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be utter'd feebly. It is held That valour is the chiefest virtue and Most dignifies the haver. If it be, The man I speak of cannot in the world Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought Beyond the mark of others; our then Dictator, Whom with all praise I point at, saw him fight When with his Amazonian chin he drove The bristled lips before him; he bestrid An o'erpress'd Roman and i' th' consul's view Slew three opposers; Tarquin's self he met, And struck him on his knee. In that day's feats, When he might act the woman in the scene, He prov'd best man i' th' field, and for his meed Was brow-bound with the oak. His pupil age Man-ent'red thus, he waxed like a sea, And in the brunt of seventeen battles since He lurch'd all swords of the garland. For this last, Before and in Corioli, let me say I cannot speak him home. He stopp'd the fliers, And by his rare example made the coward Turn terror into sport; as weeds before A vessel under sail, so men obey'd And fell below his stem. His sword, death's stamp, Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot He was a thing of blood, whose every motion Was tim'd with dying cries. Alone he ent'red The mortal gate of th' city, which he painted With shunless destiny; aidless came off, And with a sudden re-enforcement struck Corioli like a planet. Now all's his. When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce His ready sense, then straight his doubled spirit Re-quick'ned what in flesh was fatigate, And to the battle came he; where he did Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we call'd Both field and city ours he never stood To ease his breast with panting. MENENIUS. Worthy man! FIRST SENATOR. He cannot but with measure fit the honours Which we devise him. COMINIUS. Our spoils he kick'd at, And look'd upon things precious as they were The common muck of the world. He covets less Than misery itself would give, rewards His deeds with doing them, and is content To spend the time to end it. MENENIUS. He's right noble; Let him be call'd for. FIRST SENATOR. Call Coriolanus. OFFICER. He doth appear. Re-enter CORIOLANUS MENENIUS. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd To make thee consul. CORIOLANUS. I do owe them still My life and services. MENENIUS. It then remains That you do speak to the people. CORIOLANUS. I do beseech you Let me o'erleap that custom; for I cannot Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them For my wounds' sake to give their suffrage. Please you That I may pass this doing. SICINIUS. Sir, the people Must have their voices; neither will they bate One jot of ceremony. MENENIUS. Put them not to't. Pray you go fit you to the custom, and Take to you, as your predecessors have, Your honour with your form. CORIOLANUS. It is a part That I shall blush in acting, and might well Be taken from the people. BRUTUS. Mark you that? CORIOLANUS. To brag unto them 'Thus I did, and thus!' Show them th' unaching scars which I should hide, As if I had receiv'd them for the hire Of their breath only! MENENIUS. Do not stand upon't. We recommend to you, Tribunes of the People, Our purpose to them; and to our noble consul Wish we all joy and honour. SENATORS. To Coriolanus come all joy and honour! [Flourish. Cornets. Then exeunt all but SICINIUS and BRUTUS] BRUTUS. You see how he intends to use the people. SICINIUS. May they perceive's intent! He will require them As if he did contemn what he requested Should be in them to give. BRUTUS. Come, we'll inform them Of our proceedings here. On th' market-place I know they do attend us. Exeunt SCENE III. Rome. The Forum Enter seven or eight citizens FIRST CITIZEN. Once, if he do require our voices, we ought not to deny him. SECOND CITIZEN. We may, sir, if we will. THIRD CITIZEN. We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude; of the which we being members should bring ourselves to be monstrous members. FIRST CITIZEN. And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. THIRD CITIZEN. We have been call'd so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some abram, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely colour'd; and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' th' compass. SECOND CITIZEN. Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly? THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will- 'tis strongly wedg'd up in a block-head; but if it were at liberty 'twould sure southward. SECOND CITIZEN. Why that way? THIRD CITIZEN. To lose itself in a fog; where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience' sake, to help to get thee a wife. SECOND CITIZEN. YOU are never without your tricks; you may, you may. THIRD CITIZEN. Are you all resolv'd to give your voices? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. Enter CORIOLANUS, in a gown of humility, with MENENIUS Here he comes, and in the gown of humility. Mark his behaviour. We are not to stay all together, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twos, and by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein every one of us has a single honour, in giving him our own voices with our own tongues; therefore follow me, and I'll direct you how you shall go by him. ALL. Content, content. Exeunt citizens MENENIUS. O sir, you are not right; have you not known The worthiest men have done't? CORIOLANUS. What must I say? 'I pray, sir'- Plague upon't! I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. 'Look, sir, my wounds I got them in my country's service, when Some certain of your brethren roar'd and ran From th' noise of our own drums.' MENENIUS. O me, the gods! You must not speak of that. You must desire them To think upon you. CORIOLANUS. Think upon me? Hang 'em! I would they would forget me, like the virtues Which our divines lose by 'em. MENENIUS. You'll mar all. I'll leave you. Pray you speak to 'em, I pray you, In wholesome manner. Exit Re-enter three of the citizens CORIOLANUS. Bid them wash their faces And keep their teeth clean. So, here comes a brace. You know the cause, sir, of my standing here. THIRD CITIZEN. We do, sir; tell us what hath brought you to't. CORIOLANUS. Mine own desert. SECOND CITIZEN. Your own desert? CORIOLANUS. Ay, not mine own desire. THIRD CITIZEN. How, not your own desire? CORIOLANUS. No, sir, 'twas never my desire yet to trouble the poor with begging. THIRD CITIZEN. YOU MUST think, if we give you anything, we hope to gain by you. CORIOLANUS. Well then, I pray, your price o' th' consulship? FIRST CITIZEN. The price is to ask it kindly. CORIOLANUS. Kindly, sir, I pray let me ha't. I have wounds to show you, which shall be yours in private. Your good voice, sir; what say you? SECOND CITIZEN. You shall ha' it, worthy sir. CORIOLANUS. A match, sir. There's in all two worthy voices begg'd. I have your alms. Adieu. THIRD CITIZEN. But this is something odd. SECOND CITIZEN. An 'twere to give again- but 'tis no matter. Exeunt the three citizens Re-enter two other citizens CORIOLANUS. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices that I may be consul, I have here the customary gown. FOURTH CITIZEN. You have deserved nobly of your country, and you have not deserved nobly. CORIOLANUS. Your enigma? FOURTH CITIZEN. You have been a scourge to her enemies; you have been a rod to her friends. You have not indeed loved the common people. CORIOLANUS. You should account me the more virtuous, that I have not been common in my love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn brother, the people, to earn a dearer estimation of them; 'tis a condition they account gentle; and since the wisdom of their choice is rather to have my hat than my heart, I will practise the insinuating nod and be off to them most counterfeitly. That is, sir, I will counterfeit the bewitchment of some popular man and give it bountiful to the desirers. Therefore, beseech you I may be consul. FIFTH CITIZEN. We hope to find you our friend; and therefore give you our voices heartily. FOURTH CITIZEN. You have received many wounds for your country. CORIOLANUS. I will not seal your knowledge with showing them. I will make much of your voices, and so trouble you no farther. BOTH CITIZENS. The gods give you joy, sir, heartily! Exeunt citizens CORIOLANUS. Most sweet voices! Better it is to die, better to starve, Than crave the hire which first we do deserve. Why in this wolvish toge should I stand here To beg of Hob and Dick that do appear Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to't. What custom wills, in all things should we do't, The dust on antique time would lie unswept, And mountainous error be too highly heap'd For truth to o'erpeer. Rather than fool it so, Let the high office and the honour go To one that would do thus. I am half through: The one part suffered, the other will I do. Re-enter three citizens more Here come moe voices. Your voices. For your voices I have fought; Watch'd for your voices; for your voices bear Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six I have seen and heard of; for your voices have Done many things, some less, some more. Your voices? Indeed, I would be consul. SIXTH CITIZEN. He has done nobly, and cannot go without any honest man's voice. SEVENTH CITIZEN. Therefore let him be consul. The gods give him joy, and make him good friend to the people! ALL. Amen, amen. God save thee, noble consul! Exeunt citizens CORIOLANUS. Worthy voices! Re-enter MENENIUS with BRUTUS and SICINIUS MENENIUS. You have stood your limitation, and the tribunes Endue you with the people's voice. Remains That, in th' official marks invested, you Anon do meet the Senate. CORIOLANUS. Is this done? SICINIUS. The custom of request you have discharg'd. The people do admit you, and are summon'd To meet anon, upon your approbation. CORIOLANUS. Where? At the Senate House? SICINIUS. There, Coriolanus. CORIOLANUS. May I change these garments? SICINIUS. You may, sir. CORIOLANUS. That I'll straight do, and, knowing myself again, Repair to th' Senate House. MENENIUS. I'll keep you company. Will you along? BRUTUS. We stay here for the people. SICINIUS. Fare you well. Exeunt CORIOLANUS and MENENIUS He has it now; and by his looks methinks 'Tis warm at's heart. BRUTUS. With a proud heart he wore His humble weeds. Will you dismiss the people? Re-enter citizens SICINIUS. How now, my masters! Have you chose this man? FIRST CITIZEN. He has our voices, sir. BRUTUS. We pray the gods he may deserve your loves. SECOND CITIZEN. Amen, sir. To my poor unworthy notice, He mock'd us when he begg'd our voices. THIRD CITIZEN. Certainly; He flouted us downright. FIRST CITIZEN. No, 'tis his kind of speech- he did not mock us. SECOND CITIZEN. Not one amongst us, save yourself, but says He us'd us scornfully. He should have show'd us His marks of merit, wounds receiv'd for's country. SICINIUS. Why, so he did, I am sure. ALL. No, no; no man saw 'em. THIRD CITIZEN. He said he had wounds which he could show in private, And with his hat, thus waving it in scorn, 'I would be consul,' says he; 'aged custom But by your voices will not so permit me; Your voices therefore.' When we granted that, Here was 'I thank you for your voices. Thank you, Your most sweet voices. Now you have left your voices, I have no further with you.' Was not this mockery? SICINIUS. Why either were you ignorant to see't, Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness To yield your voices? BRUTUS. Could you not have told him- As you were lesson'd- when he had no power But was a petty servant to the state, He was your enemy; ever spake against Your liberties and the charters that you bear I' th' body of the weal; and now, arriving A place of potency and sway o' th' state, If he should still malignantly remain Fast foe to th' plebeii, your voices might Be curses to yourselves? You should have said That as his worthy deeds did claim no less Than what he stood for, so his gracious nature Would think upon you for your voices, and Translate his malice towards you into love, Standing your friendly lord. SICINIUS. Thus to have said, As you were fore-advis'd, had touch'd his spirit And tried his inclination; from him pluck'd Either his gracious promise, which you might, As cause had call'd you up, have held him to; Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature, Which easily endures not article Tying him to aught. So, putting him to rage, You should have ta'en th' advantage of his choler And pass'd him unelected. BRUTUS. Did you perceive He did solicit you in free contempt When he did need your loves; and do you think That his contempt shall not be bruising to you When he hath power to crush? Why, had your bodies No heart among you? Or had you tongues to cry Against the rectorship of judgment? SICINIUS. Have you Ere now denied the asker, and now again, Of him that did not ask but mock, bestow Your su'd-for tongues? THIRD CITIZEN. He's not confirm'd: we may deny him yet. SECOND CITIZENS. And will deny him; I'll have five hundred voices of that sound. FIRST CITIZEN. I twice five hundred, and their friends to piece 'em. BRUTUS. Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends They have chose a consul that will from them take Their liberties, make them of no more voice Than dogs, that are as often beat for barking As therefore kept to do so. SICINIUS. Let them assemble; And, on a safer judgment, all revoke Your ignorant election. Enforce his pride And his old hate unto you; besides, forget not With what contempt he wore the humble weed; How in his suit he scorn'd you; but your loves, Thinking upon his services, took from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which, most gibingly, ungravely, he did fashion After the inveterate hate he bears you. BRUTUS. Lay A fault on us, your tribunes, that we labour'd, No impediment between, but that you must Cast your election on him. SICINIUS. Say you chose him More after our commandment than as guided By your own true affections; and that your minds, Pre-occupied with what you rather must do Than what you should, made you against the grain To voice him consul. Lay the fault on us. BRUTUS. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures to you, How youngly he began to serve his country, How long continued; and what stock he springs of- The noble house o' th' Marcians; from whence came That Ancus Marcius, Numa's daughter's son, Who, after great Hostilius, here was king; Of the same house Publius and Quintus were, That our best water brought by conduits hither; And Censorinus, nobly named so, Twice being by the people chosen censor, Was his great ancestor. SICINIUS. One thus descended, That hath beside well in his person wrought To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances; but you have found, Scaling his present bearing with his past, That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke Your sudden approbation. BRUTUS. Say you ne'er had done't- Harp on that still- but by our putting on; And presently, when you have drawn your number, Repair to th' Capitol. CITIZENS. will will so; almost all Repent in their election. Exeunt plebeians BRUTUS. Let them go on; This mutiny were better put in hazard Than stay, past doubt, for greater. If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusal, both observe and answer The vantage of his anger. SICINIUS. To th' Capitol, come. We will be there before the stream o' th' people; And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own, Which we have goaded onward. Exeunt ACT III. SCENE I. Rome. A street Cornets. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS, all the GENTRY, COMINIUS, TITUS LARTIUS, and other SENATORS CORIOLANUS. Tullus Aufidius, then, had made new head? LARTIUS. He had, my lord; and that it was which caus'd Our swifter composition. CORIOLANUS. So then the Volsces stand but as at first, Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make road Upon's again. COMINIUS. They are worn, Lord Consul, so That we shall hardly in our ages see Their banners wave again. CORIOLANUS. Saw you Aufidius? LARTIUS. On safeguard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volsces, for they had so vilely Yielded the town. He is retir'd to Antium. CORIOLANUS. Spoke he of me? LARTIUS. He did, my lord. CORIOLANUS. How? What? LARTIUS. How often he had met you, sword to sword; That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most; that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be call'd your vanquisher. CORIOLANUS. At Antium lives he? LARTIUS. At Antium. CORIOLANUS. I wish I had a cause to seek him there, To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS Behold, these are the tribunes of the people, The tongues o' th' common mouth. I do despise them, For they do prank them in authority, Against all noble sufferance. SICINIUS. Pass no further. CORIOLANUS. Ha! What is that? BRUTUS. It will be dangerous to go on- no further. CORIOLANUS. What makes this change? MENENIUS. The matter? COMINIUS. Hath he not pass'd the noble and the common? BRUTUS. Cominius, no. CORIOLANUS. Have I had children's voices? FIRST SENATOR. Tribunes, give way: he shall to th' market-place. BRUTUS. The people are incens'd against him. SICINIUS. Stop, Or all will fall in broil. CORIOLANUS. Are these your herd? Must these have voices, that can yield them now And straight disclaim their tongues? What are your offices? You being their mouths, why rule you not their teeth? Have you not set them on? MENENIUS. Be calm, be calm. CORIOLANUS. It is a purpos'd thing, and grows by plot, To curb the will of the nobility; Suffer't, and live with such as cannot rule Nor ever will be rul'd. BRUTUS. Call't not a plot. The people cry you mock'd them; and of late, When corn was given them gratis, you repin'd; Scandal'd the suppliants for the people, call'd them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. CORIOLANUS. Why, this was known before. BRUTUS. Not to them all. CORIOLANUS. Have you inform'd them sithence? BRUTUS. How? I inform them! COMINIUS. You are like to do such business. BRUTUS. Not unlike Each way to better yours. CORIOLANUS. Why then should I be consul? By yond clouds, Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me Your fellow tribune. SICINIUS. You show too much of that For which the people stir; if you will pass To where you are bound, you must enquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, Or never be so noble as a consul, Nor yoke with him for tribune. MENENIUS. Let's be calm. COMINIUS. The people are abus'd; set on. This palt'ring Becomes not Rome; nor has Coriolanus Deserved this so dishonour'd rub, laid falsely I' th' plain way of his merit. CORIOLANUS. Tell me of corn! This was my speech, and I will speak't again- MENENIUS. Not now, not now. FIRST SENATOR. Not in this heat, sir, now. CORIOLANUS. Now, as I live, I will. My nobler friends, I crave their pardons. For the mutable, rank-scented meiny, let them Regard me as I do not flatter, and Therein behold themselves. I say again, In soothing them we nourish 'gainst our Senate The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition, Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, and scatter'd, By mingling them with us, the honour'd number, Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that Which they have given to beggars. MENENIUS. Well, no more. FIRST SENATOR. No more words, we beseech you. CORIOLANUS. How? no more! As for my country I have shed my blood, Not fearing outward force, so shall my lungs Coin words till their decay against those measles Which we disdain should tetter us, yet sought The very way to catch them. BRUTUS. You speak o' th' people As if you were a god, to punish; not A man of their infirmity. SICINIUS. 'Twere well We let the people know't. MENENIUS. What, what? his choler? CORIOLANUS. Choler! Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Jove, 'twould be my mind! SICINIUS. It is a mind That shall remain a poison where it is, Not poison any further. CORIOLANUS. Shall remain! Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute 'shall'? COMINIUS. 'Twas from the canon. CORIOLANUS. 'Shall'! O good but most unwise patricians! Why, You grave but reckless senators, have you thus Given Hydra here to choose an officer That with his peremptory 'shall,' being but The horn and noise o' th' monster's, wants not spirit To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, And make your channel his? If he have power, Then vail your ignorance; if none, awake Your dangerous lenity. If you are learn'd, Be not as common fools; if you are not, Let them have cushions by you. You are plebeians, If they be senators; and they are no less, When, both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most palates theirs. They choose their magistrate; And such a one as he, who puts his 'shall,' His popular 'shall,' against a graver bench Than ever frown'd in Greece. By Jove himself, It makes the consuls base; and my soul aches To know, when two authorities are up, Neither supreme, how soon confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of both and take The one by th' other. COMINIUS. Well, on to th' market-place. CORIOLANUS. Whoever gave that counsel to give forth The corn o' th' storehouse gratis, as 'twas us'd Sometime in Greece- MENENIUS. Well, well, no more of that. CORIOLANUS. Though there the people had more absolute pow'r- I say they nourish'd disobedience, fed The ruin of the state. BRUTUS. Why shall the people give One that speaks thus their voice? CORIOLANUS. I'll give my reasons, More worthier than their voices. They know the corn Was not our recompense, resting well assur'd They ne'er did service for't; being press'd to th' war Even when the navel of the state was touch'd, They would not thread the gates. This kind of service Did not deserve corn gratis. Being i' th' war, Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they show'd Most valour, spoke not for them. Th' accusation Which they have often made against the Senate, All cause unborn, could never be the native Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? How shall this bosom multiplied digest The Senate's courtesy? Let deeds express What's like to be their words: 'We did request it; We are the greater poll, and in true fear They gave us our demands.' Thus we debase The nature of our seats, and make the rabble Call our cares fears; which will in time Break ope the locks o' th' Senate and bring in The crows to peck the eagles. MENENIUS. Come, enough. BRUTUS. Enough, with over measure. CORIOLANUS. No, take more. What may be sworn by, both divine and human, Seal what I end withal! This double worship, Where one part does disdain with cause, the other Insult without all reason; where gentry, title, wisdom, Cannot conclude but by the yea and no Of general ignorance- it must omit Real necessities, and give way the while To unstable slightness. Purpose so barr'd, it follows Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore, beseech you- You that will be less fearful than discreet; That love the fundamental part of state More than you doubt the change on't; that prefer A noble life before a long, and wish To jump a body with a dangerous physic That's sure of death without it- at once pluck out The multitudinous tongue; let them not lick The sweet which is their poison. Your dishonour Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state Of that integrity which should become't, Not having the power to do the good it would, For th' ill which doth control't. BRUTUS. Has said enough. SICINIUS. Has spoken like a traitor and shall answer As traitors do. CORIOLANUS. Thou wretch, despite o'erwhelm thee! What should the people do with these bald tribunes, On whom depending, their obedience fails To the greater bench? In a rebellion, When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, Then were they chosen; in a better hour Let what is meet be said it must be meet, And throw their power i' th' dust. BRUTUS. Manifest treason! SICINIUS. This a consul? No. BRUTUS. The aediles, ho! Enter an AEDILE Let him be apprehended. SICINIUS. Go call the people, [Exit AEDILE] in whose name myself Attach thee as a traitorous innovator, A foe to th' public weal. Obey, I charge thee, And follow to thine answer. CORIOLANUS. Hence, old goat! PATRICIANS. We'll surety him. COMINIUS. Ag'd sir, hands off. CORIOLANUS. Hence, rotten thing! or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy garments. SICINIUS. Help, ye citizens! Enter a rabble of plebeians, with the AEDILES MENENIUS. On both sides more respect. SICINIUS. Here's he that would take from you all your power. BRUTUS. Seize him, aediles. PLEBEIANS. Down with him! down with him! SECOND SENATOR. Weapons, weapons, weapons! [They all bustle about CORIOLANUS] ALL. Tribunes! patricians! citizens! What, ho! Sicinius! Brutus! Coriolanus! Citizens! PATRICIANS. Peace, peace, peace; stay, hold, peace! MENENIUS. What is about to be? I am out of breath; Confusion's near; I cannot speak. You tribunes To th' people- Coriolanus, patience! Speak, good Sicinius. SICINIUS. Hear me, people; peace! PLEBEIANS. Let's hear our tribune. Peace! Speak, speak, speak. SICINIUS. You are at point to lose your liberties. Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, Whom late you have nam'd for consul. MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! This is the way to kindle, not to quench. FIRST SENATOR. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat. SICINIUS. What is the city but the people? PLEBEIANS. True, The people are the city. BRUTUS. By the consent of all we were establish'd The people's magistrates. PLEBEIANS. You so remain. MENENIUS. And so are like to do. COMINIUS. That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all which yet distinctly ranges In heaps and piles of ruin. SICINIUS. This deserves death. BRUTUS. Or let us stand to our authority Or let us lose it. We do here pronounce, Upon the part o' th' people, in whose power We were elected theirs: Marcius is worthy Of present death. SICINIUS. Therefore lay hold of him; Bear him to th' rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him. BRUTUS. AEdiles, seize him. PLEBEIANS. Yield, Marcius, yield. MENENIUS. Hear me one word; beseech you, Tribunes, Hear me but a word. AEDILES. Peace, peace! MENENIUS. Be that you seem, truly your country's friend, And temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redress. BRUTUS. Sir, those cold ways, That seem like prudent helps, are very poisonous Where the disease is violent. Lay hands upon him And bear him to the rock. [CORIOLANUS draws his sword] CORIOLANUS. No: I'll die here. There's some among you have beheld me fighting; Come, try upon yourselves what you have seen me. MENENIUS. Down with that sword! Tribunes, withdraw awhile. BRUTUS. Lay hands upon him. MENENIUS. Help Marcius, help, You that be noble; help him, young and old. PLEBEIANS. Down with him, down with him! [In this mutiny the TRIBUNES, the AEDILES, and the people are beat in] MENENIUS. Go, get you to your house; be gone, away. All will be nought else. SECOND SENATOR. Get you gone. CORIOLANUS. Stand fast; We have as many friends as enemies. MENENIUS. Shall it be put to that? FIRST SENATOR. The gods forbid! I prithee, noble friend, home to thy house; Leave us to cure this cause. MENENIUS. For 'tis a sore upon us You cannot tent yourself; be gone, beseech you. COMINIUS. Come, sir, along with us. CORIOLANUS. I would they were barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome litter'd; not Romans, as they are not, Though calved i' th' porch o' th' Capitol. MENENIUS. Be gone. Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; One time will owe another. CORIOLANUS. On fair ground I could beat forty of them. MENENIUS. I could myself Take up a brace o' th' best of them; yea, the two tribunes. COMINIUS. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic, And manhood is call'd foolery when it stands Against a falling fabric. Will you hence, Before the tag return? whose rage doth rend Like interrupted waters, and o'erbear What they are us'd to bear. MENENIUS. Pray you be gone. I'll try whether my old wit be in request With those that have but little; this must be patch'd With cloth of any colour. COMINIUS. Nay, come away. Exeunt CORIOLANUS and COMINIUS, with others PATRICIANS. This man has marr'd his fortune. MENENIUS. His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for's power to thunder. His heart's his mouth; What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death. [A noise within] Here's goodly work! PATRICIANS. I would they were a-bed. MENENIUS. I would they were in Tiber. What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair? Re-enter BRUTUS and SICINIUS, the rabble again SICINIUS. Where is this viper That would depopulate the city and Be every man himself? MENENIUS. You worthy Tribunes- SICINIUS. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law, And therefore law shall scorn him further trial Than the severity of the public power, Which he so sets at nought. FIRST CITIZEN. He shall well know The noble tribunes are the people's mouths, And we their hands. PLEBEIANS. He shall, sure on't. MENENIUS. Sir, sir- SICINIUS. Peace! MENENIUS. Do not cry havoc, where you should but hunt With modest warrant. SICINIUS. Sir, how comes't that you Have holp to make this rescue? MENENIUS. Hear me speak. As I do know the consul's worthiness, So can I name his faults. SICINIUS. Consul! What consul? MENENIUS. The consul Coriolanus. BRUTUS. He consul! PLEBEIANS. No, no, no, no, no. MENENIUS. If, by the tribunes' leave, and yours, good people, I may be heard, I would crave a word or two; The which shall turn you to no further harm Than so much loss of time. SICINIUS. Speak briefly, then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This viperous traitor; to eject him hence Were but one danger, and to keep him here Our certain death; therefore it is decreed He dies to-night. MENENIUS. Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enroll'd In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own! SICINIUS. He's a disease that must be cut away. MENENIUS. O, he's a limb that has but a disease- Mortal, to cut it off: to cure it, easy. What has he done to Rome that's worthy death? Killing our enemies, the blood he hath lost- Which I dare vouch is more than that he hath By many an ounce- he dropt it for his country; And what is left, to lose it by his country Were to us all that do't and suffer it A brand to th' end o' th' world. SICINIUS. This is clean kam. BRUTUS. Merely awry. When he did love his country, It honour'd him. SICINIUS. The service of the foot, Being once gangren'd, is not then respected For what before it was. BRUTUS. We'll hear no more. Pursue him to his house and pluck him thence, Lest his infection, being of catching nature, Spread further. MENENIUS. One word more, one word This tiger-footed rage, when it shall find The harm of unscann'd swiftness, will, too late, Tie leaden pounds to's heels. Proceed by process, Lest parties- as he is belov'd- break out, And sack great Rome with Romans. BRUTUS. If it were so- SICINIUS. What do ye talk? Have we not had a taste of his obedience- Our aediles smote, ourselves resisted? Come! MENENIUS. Consider this: he has been bred i' th' wars Since 'a could draw a sword, and is ill school'd In bolted language; meal and bran together He throws without distinction. Give me leave, I'll go to him and undertake to bring him Where he shall answer by a lawful form, In peace, to his utmost peril. FIRST SENATOR. Noble Tribunes, It is the humane way; the other course Will prove too bloody, and the end of it Unknown to the beginning. SICINIUS. Noble Menenius, Be you then as the people's officer. Masters, lay down your weapons. BRUTUS. Go not home. SICINIUS. Meet on the market-place. We'll attend you there; Where, if you bring not Marcius, we'll proceed In our first way. MENENIUS. I'll bring him to you. [To the SENATORS] Let me desire your company; he must come, Or what is worst will follow. FIRST SENATOR. Pray you let's to him. Exeunt SCENE II. Rome. The house of CORIOLANUS Enter CORIOLANUS with NOBLES CORIOLANUS. Let them pull all about mine ears, present me Death on the wheel or at wild horses' heels; Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock, That the precipitation might down stretch Below the beam of sight; yet will I still Be thus to them. FIRST PATRICIAN. You do the nobler. CORIOLANUS. I muse my mother Does not approve me further, who was wont To call them woollen vassals, things created To buy and sell with groats; to show bare heads In congregations, to yawn, be still, and wonder, When one but of my ordinance stood up To speak of peace or war. Enter VOLUMNIA I talk of you: Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me False to my nature? Rather say I play The man I am. VOLUMNIA. O, sir, sir, sir, I would have had you put your power well on Before you had worn it out. CORIOLANUS. Let go. VOLUMNIA. You might have been enough the man you are With striving less to be so; lesser had been The thwartings of your dispositions, if You had not show'd them how ye were dispos'd, Ere they lack'd power to cross you. CORIOLANUS. Let them hang. VOLUMNIA. Ay, and burn too. Enter MENENIUS with the SENATORS MENENIUS. Come, come, you have been too rough, something too rough; You must return and mend it. FIRST SENATOR. There's no remedy, Unless, by not so doing, our good city Cleave in the midst and perish. VOLUMNIA. Pray be counsell'd; I have a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a brain that leads my use of anger To better vantage. MENENIUS. Well said, noble woman! Before he should thus stoop to th' herd, but that The violent fit o' th' time craves it as physic For the whole state, I would put mine armour on, Which I can scarcely bear. CORIOLANUS. What must I do? MENENIUS. Return to th' tribunes. CORIOLANUS. Well, what then, what then? MENENIUS. Repent what you have spoke. CORIOLANUS. For them! I cannot do it to the gods; Must I then do't to them? VOLUMNIA. You are too absolute; Though therein you can never be too noble But when extremities speak. I have heard you say Honour and policy, like unsever'd friends, I' th' war do grow together; grant that, and tell me In peace what each of them by th' other lose That they combine not there. CORIOLANUS. Tush, tush! MENENIUS. A good demand. VOLUMNIA. If it be honour in your wars to seem The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy, how is it less or worse That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour as in war; since that to both It stands in like request? CORIOLANUS. Why force you this? VOLUMNIA. Because that now it lies you on to speak To th' people, not by your own instruction, Nor by th' matter which your heart prompts you, But with such words that are but roted in Your tongue, though but bastards and syllables Of no allowance to your bosom's truth. Now, this no more dishonours you at all Than to take in a town with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my nature where My fortunes and my friends at stake requir'd I should do so in honour. I am in this Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobles; And you will rather show our general louts How you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 'em For the inheritance of their loves and safeguard Of what that want might ruin. MENENIUS. Noble lady! Come, go with us, speak fair; you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the los Of what is past. VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, My son, Go to them with this bonnet in thy hand; And thus far having stretch'd it- here be with them- Thy knee bussing the stones- for in such busines Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant More learned than the ears- waving thy head, Which often thus correcting thy-stout heart, Now humble as the ripest mulberry That will not hold the handling. Or say to them Thou art their soldier and, being bred in broils, Hast not the soft way which, thou dost confess, Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far As thou hast power and person. MENENIUS. This but done Even as she speaks, why, their hearts were yours; For they have pardons, being ask'd, as free As words to little purpose. VOLUMNIA. Prithee now, Go, and be rul'd; although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf Than flatter him in a bower. Enter COMINIUS Here is Cominius. COMINIUS. I have been i' th' market-place; and, sir, 'tis fit You make strong party, or defend yourself By calmness or by absence; all's in anger. MENENIUS. Only fair speech. COMINIUS. I think 'twill serve, if he Can thereto frame his spirit. VOLUMNIA. He must and will. Prithee now, say you will, and go about it. CORIOLANUS. Must I go show them my unbarb'd sconce? Must I With my base tongue give to my noble heart A lie that it must bear? Well, I will do't; Yet, were there but this single plot to lose, This mould of Marcius, they to dust should grind it, And throw't against the wind. To th' market-place! You have put me now to such a part which never I shall discharge to th' life. COMINIUS. Come, come, we'll prompt you. VOLUMNIA. I prithee now, sweet son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a soldier, so, To have my praise for this, perform a part Thou hast not done before. CORIOLANUS. Well, I must do't. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd, Which quier'd with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch or the virgin voice That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys' tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar's tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm'd knees, Who bow'd but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv'd an alms! I will not do't, Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, And by my body's action teach my mind A most inherent baseness. VOLUMNIA. At thy choice, then. To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour Than thou of them. Come all to ruin. Let Thy mother rather feel thy pride than fear Thy dangerous stoutness; for I mock at death With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; But owe thy pride thyself. CORIOLANUS. Pray be content. Mother, I am going to the market-place; Chide me no more. I'll mountebank their loves, Cog their hearts from them, and come home belov'd Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going. Commend me to my wife. I'll return consul, Or never trust to what my tongue can do I' th' way of flattery further. VOLUMNIA. Do your will. Exit COMINIUS. Away! The tribunes do attend you. Arm yourself To answer mildly; for they are prepar'd With accusations, as I hear, more strong Than are upon you yet. CORIOLANUS. The word is 'mildly.' Pray you let us go. Let them accuse me by invention; I Will answer in mine honour. MENENIUS. Ay, but mildly. CORIOLANUS. Well, mildly be it then- mildly. Exeunt SCENE III. Rome. The Forum Enter SICINIUS and BRUTUS BRUTUS. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannical power. If he evade us there, Enforce him with his envy to the people, And that the spoil got on the Antiates Was ne'er distributed. Enter an AEDILE What, will he come? AEDILE. He's coming. BRUTUS. How accompanied? AEDILE. With old Menenius, and those senators That always favour'd him. SICINIUS. Have you a catalogue Of all the voices that we have procur'd, Set down by th' poll? AEDILE. I have; 'tis ready. SICINIUS. Have you corrected them by tribes? AEDILE. I have. SICINIUS. Assemble presently the people hither; And when they hear me say 'It shall be so I' th' right and strength o' th' commons' be it either For death, for fine, or banishment, then let them, If I say fine, cry 'Fine!'- if death, cry 'Death!' Insisting on the old prerogative And power i' th' truth o' th' cause. AEDILE. I shall inform them. BRUTUS. And when such time they have begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a din confus'd Enforce the present execution Of what we chance to sentence. AEDILE. Very well. SICINIUS. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint, When we shall hap to give't them. BRUTUS. Go about it. Exit AEDILE Put him to choler straight. He hath been us'd Ever to conquer, and to have his worth Of contradiction; being once chaf'd, he cannot Be rein'd again to temperance; then he speaks What's in his heart, and that is there which looks With us to break his neck. Enter CORIOLANUS, MENENIUS and COMINIUS, with others SICINIUS. Well, here he comes. MENENIUS. Calmly, I do beseech you. CORIOLANUS. Ay, as an ostler, that for th' poorest piece Will bear the knave by th' volume. Th' honour'd gods Keep Rome in safety, and the chairs of justice Supplied with worthy men! plant love among's! Throng our large temples with the shows of peace, And not our streets with war! FIRST SENATOR. Amen, amen! MENENIUS. A noble wish. Re-enter the.AEDILE,with the plebeians SICINIUS. Draw near, ye people. AEDILE. List to your tribunes. Audience! peace, I say! CORIOLANUS. First, hear me speak. BOTH TRIBUNES. Well, say. Peace, ho! CORIOLANUS. Shall I be charg'd no further than this present? Must all determine here? SICINIUS. I do demand, If you submit you to the people's voices, Allow their officers, and are content To suffer lawful censure for such faults As shall be prov'd upon you. CORIOLANUS. I am content. MENENIUS. Lo, citizens, he says he is content. The warlike service he has done, consider; think Upon the wounds his body bears, which show Like graves i' th' holy churchyard. CORIOLANUS. Scratches with briers, Scars to move laughter only. MENENIUS. Consider further, That when he speaks not like a citizen, You find him like a soldier; do not take His rougher accents for malicious sounds, But, as I say, such as become a soldier Rather than envy you. COMINIUS. Well, well! No more. CORIOLANUS. What is the matter, That being pass'd for consul with full voice, I am so dishonour'd that the very hour You take it off again? SICINIUS. Answer to us. CORIOLANUS. Say then; 'tis true, I ought so. SICINIUS. We charge you that you have contriv'd to take From Rome all season'd office, and to wind Yourself into a power tyrannical; For which you are a traitor to the people. CORIOLANUS. How- traitor? MENENIUS. Nay, temperately! Your promise. CORIOLANUS. The fires i' th' lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor! Thou injurious tribune! Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say 'Thou liest' unto thee with a voice as free As I do pray the gods. SICINIUS. Mark you this, people? PLEBEIANS. To th' rock, to th' rock, with him! SICINIUS. Peace! We need not put new matter to his charge. What you have seen him do and heard him speak, Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, Opposing laws with strokes, and here defying Those whose great power must try him- even this, So criminal and in such capital kind, Deserves th' extremest death. BRUTUS. But since he hath Serv'd well for Rome- CORIOLANUS. What do you prate of service? BRUTUS. I talk of that that know it. CORIOLANUS. You! MENENIUS. Is this the promise that you made your mother? COMINIUS. Know, I pray you- CORIOLANUS. I'll know no further. Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, flaying, pent to linger But with a grain a day, I would not buy Their mercy at the price of one fair word, Nor check my courage for what they can give, To have't with saying 'Good morrow.' SICINIUS. For that he has- As much as in him lies- from time to time Envied against the people, seeking means To pluck away their power; as now at last Given hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded justice, but on the ministers That do distribute it- in the name o' th' people, And in the power of us the tribunes, we, Ev'n from this instant, banish him our city, In peril of precipitation From off the rock Tarpeian, never more To enter our Rome gates. I' th' people's name, I say it shall be so. PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so! Let him away! He's banish'd, and it shall be so. COMINIUS. Hear me, my masters and my common friends- SICINIUS. He's sentenc'd; no more hearing. COMINIUS. Let me speak. I have been consul, and can show for Rome Her enemies' marks upon me. I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, than mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb's increase And treasure of my loins. Then if I would Speak that- SICINIUS. We know your drift. Speak what? BRUTUS. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd, As enemy to the people and his country. It shall be so. PLEBEIANS. It shall be so, it shall be so. CORIOLANUS. YOU common cry of curs, whose breath I hate As reek o' th' rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air- I banish you. And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts; Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders, till at length Your ignorance- which finds not till it feels, Making but reservation of yourselves Still your own foes- deliver you As most abated captives to some nation That won you without blows! Despising For you the city, thus I turn my back; There is a world elsewhere. Exeunt CORIOLANUS, COMINIUS, MENENIUS, with the other PATRICIANS AEDILE. The people's enemy is gone, is gone! [They all shout and throw up their caps] PLEBEIANS. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone! Hoo-oo! SICINIUS. Go see him out at gates, and follow him, As he hath follow'd you, with all despite; Give him deserv'd vexation. Let a guard Attend us through the city. PLEBEIANS. Come, come, let's see him out at gates; come! The gods preserve our noble tribunes! Come. Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE I. Rome. Before a gate of the city Enter CORIOLANUS, VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, MENENIUS, COMINIUS, with the young NOBILITY of Rome CORIOLANUS. Come, leave your tears; a brief farewell. The beast With many heads butts me away. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? You were us'd To say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm all boats alike Show'd mastership in floating; fortune's blows, When most struck home, being gentle wounded craves A noble cunning. You were us'd to load me With precepts that would make invincible The heart that conn'd them. VIRGILIA. O heavens! O heavens! CORIOLANUS. Nay, I prithee, woman- VOLUMNIA. Now the red pestilence strike all trades in Rome, And occupations perish! CORIOLANUS. What, what, what! I shall be lov'd when I am lack'd. Nay, mother, Resume that spirit when you were wont to say, If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours you'd have done, and sav'd Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother. I'll do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime General, I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hard'ning spectacles; tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace; and Believe't not lightly- though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen- your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practice. VOLUMNIA. My first son, Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile; determine on some course More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' th' way before thee. VIRGILIA. O the gods! COMINIUS. I'll follow thee a month, devise with the Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us, And we of thee; so, if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man, And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' th' absence of the needer. CORIOLANUS. Fare ye well; Thou hast years upon thee, and thou art too full Of the wars' surfeits to go rove with one That's yet unbruis'd; bring me but out at gate. Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch; when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come. While I remain above the ground you shall Hear from me still, and never of me aught But what is like me formerly. MENENIUS. That's worthily As any ear can hear. Come, let's not weep. If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'd with thee every foot. CORIOLANUS. Give me thy hand. Come. Exeunt SCENE II. Rome. A street near the gate Enter the two Tribunes, SICINIUS and BRUTUS with the AEDILE SICINIUS. Bid them all home; he's gone, and we'll no further. The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided In his behalf. BRUTUS. Now we have shown our power, Let us seem humbler after it is done Than when it was a-doing. SICINIUS. Bid them home. Say their great enemy is gone, and they Stand in their ancient strength. BRUTUS. Dismiss them home. Exit AEDILE Here comes his mother. Enter VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, and MENENIUS SICINIUS. Let's not meet her. BRUTUS. Why? SICINIUS. They say she's mad. BRUTUS. They have ta'en note of us; keep on your way. VOLUMNIA. O, Y'are well met; th' hoarded plague o' th' gods Requite your love! MENENIUS. Peace, peace, be not so loud. VOLUMNIA. If that I could for weeping, you should hear- Nay, and you shall hear some. [To BRUTUS] Will you be gone? VIRGILIA. [To SICINIUS] You shall stay too. I would I had the power To say so to my husband. SICINIUS. Are you mankind? VOLUMNIA. Ay, fool; is that a shame? Note but this, fool: Was not a man my father? Hadst thou foxship To banish him that struck more blows for Rome Than thou hast spoken words? SICINIUS. O blessed heavens! VOLUMNIA. Moe noble blows than ever thou wise words; And for Rome's good. I'll tell thee what- yet go! Nay, but thou shalt stay too. I would my son Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, His good sword in his hand. SICINIUS. What then? VIRGILIA. What then! He'd make an end of thy posterity. VOLUMNIA. Bastards and all. Good man, the wounds that he does bear for Rome! MENENIUS. Come, come, peace. SICINIUS. I would he had continued to his country As he began, and not unknit himself The noble knot he made. BRUTUS. I would he had. VOLUMNIA. 'I would he had!' 'Twas you incens'd the rabble- Cats that can judge as fitly of his worth As I can of those mysteries which heaven Will not have earth to know. BRUTUS. Pray, let's go. VOLUMNIA. Now, pray, sir, get you gone; You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, hear this: As far as doth the Capitol exceed The meanest house in Rome, so far my son- This lady's husband here, this, do you see?- Whom you have banish'd does exceed you an. BRUTUS. Well, well, we'll leave you. SICINIUS. Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her wits? Exeunt TRIBUNES VOLUMNIA. Take my prayers with you. I would the gods had nothing else to do But to confirm my curses. Could I meet 'em But once a day, it would unclog my heart Of what lies heavy to't. MENENIUS. You have told them home, And, by my troth, you have cause. You'll sup with me? VOLUMNIA. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding. Come, let's go. Leave this faint puling and lament as I do, In anger, Juno-like. Come, come, come. Exeunt VOLUMNIA and VIRGILIA MENENIUS. Fie, fie, fie! Exit SCENE III. A highway between Rome and Antium Enter a ROMAN and a VOLSCE, meeting ROMAN. I know you well, sir, and you know me; your name, I think, is Adrian. VOLSCE. It is so, sir. Truly, I have forgot you. ROMAN. I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet? VOLSCE. Nicanor? No! ROMAN. The same, sir. VOLSCE. YOU had more beard when I last saw you, but your favour is well appear'd by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, to find you out there. You have well saved me a day's journey. ROMAN. There hath been in Rome strange insurrections: the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. VOLSCE. Hath been! Is it ended, then? Our state thinks not so; they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division. ROMAN. The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again; for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people, and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out. VOLSCE. Coriolanus banish'd! ROMAN. Banish'd, sir. VOLSCE. You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor. ROMAN. The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fall'n out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country. VOLSCE. He cannot choose. I am most fortunate thus accidentally to encounter you; you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home. ROMAN. I shall between this and supper tell you most strange things from Rome, all tending to the good of their adversaries. Have you an army ready, say you? VOLSCE. A most royal one: the centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in th' entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning. ROMAN. I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. VOLSCE. You take my part from me, sir. I have the most cause to be glad of yours. ROMAN. Well, let us go together. SCENE IV. Antium. Before AUFIDIUS' house Enter CORIOLANUS, in mean apparel, disguis'd and muffled CORIOLANUS. A goodly city is this Antium. City, 'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir Of these fair edifices fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop. Then know me not. Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones, In puny battle slay me. Enter A CITIZEN Save you, sir. CITIZEN. And you. CORIOLANUS. Direct me, if it be your will, Where great Aufidius lies. Is he in Antium? CITIZEN. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state At his house this night. CORIOLANUS. Which is his house, beseech you? CITIZEN. This here before you. CORIOLANUS. Thank you, sir; farewell. Exit CITIZEN O world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love, Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues. So with me: My birthplace hate I, and my love's upon This enemy town. I'll enter. If he slay me, He does fair justice: if he give me way, I'll do his country service. SCENE V. Antium. AUFIDIUS' house Music plays. Enter A SERVINGMAN FIRST SERVANT. Wine, wine, wine! What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep. Exit Enter another SERVINGMAN SECOND SERVANT.Where's Cotus? My master calls for him. Cotus! Exit Enter CORIOLANUS CORIOLANUS. A goodly house. The feast smells well, but I Appear not like a guest. Re-enter the first SERVINGMAN FIRST SERVANT. What would you have, friend? Whence are you? Here's no place for you: pray go to the door. Exit CORIOLANUS. I have deserv'd no better entertainment In being Coriolanus. Re-enter second SERVINGMAN SECOND SERVANT. Whence are you, sir? Has the porter his eyes in his head that he gives entrance to such companions? Pray get you out. CORIOLANUS. Away! SECOND SERVANT. Away? Get you away. CORIOLANUS. Now th' art troublesome. SECOND SERVANT. Are you so brave? I'll have you talk'd with anon. Enter a third SERVINGMAN. The first meets him THIRD SERVANT. What fellow's this? FIRST SERVANT. A strange one as ever I look'd on. I cannot get him out o' th' house. Prithee call my master to him. THIRD SERVANT. What have you to do here, fellow? Pray you avoid the house. CORIOLANUS. Let me but stand- I will not hurt your hearth. THIRD SERVANT. What are you? CORIOLANUS. A gentleman. THIRD SERVANT. A marv'llous poor one. CORIOLANUS. True, so I am. THIRD SERVANT. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up some other station; here's no place for you. Pray you avoid. Come. CORIOLANUS. Follow your function, go and batten on cold bits. [Pushes him away from him] THIRD SERVANT. What, you will not? Prithee tell my master what a strange guest he has here. SECOND SERVANT. And I shall. Exit THIRD SERVANT. Where dwell'st thou? CORIOLANUS. Under the canopy. THIRD SERVANT. Under the canopy? CORIOLANUS. Ay. THIRD SERVANT. Where's that? CORIOLANUS. I' th' city of kites and crows. THIRD SERVANT. I' th' city of kites and crows! What an ass it is! Then thou dwell'st with daws too? CORIOLANUS. No, I serve not thy master. THIRD SERVANT. How, sir! Do you meddle with my master? CORIOLANUS. Ay; 'tis an honester service than to meddle with thy mistress. Thou prat'st and prat'st; serve with thy trencher; hence! [Beats him away] Enter AUFIDIUS with the second SERVINGMAN AUFIDIUS. Where is this fellow? SECOND SERVANT. Here, sir; I'd have beaten him like a dog, but for disturbing the lords within. AUFIDIUS. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst thou? Thy name? Why speak'st not? Speak, man. What's thy name? CORIOLANUS. [Unmuffling] If, Tullus, Not yet thou know'st me, and, seeing me, dost not Think me for the man I am, necessity Commands me name myself. AUFIDIUS. What is thy name? CORIOLANUS. A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. AUFIDIUS. Say, what's thy name? Thou has a grim appearance, and thy face Bears a command in't; though thy tackle's torn, Thou show'st a noble vessel. What's thy name? CORIOLANUS. Prepare thy brow to frown- know'st thou me yet? AUFIDIUS. I know thee not. Thy name? CORIOLANUS. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volsces, Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may My surname, Coriolanus. The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood Shed for my thankless country, are requited But with that surname- a good memory And witness of the malice and displeasure Which thou shouldst bear me. Only that name remains; The cruelty and envy of the people, Permitted by our dastard nobles, who Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest, An suffer'd me by th' voice of slaves to be Whoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity Hath brought me to thy hearth; not out of hope, Mistake me not, to save my life; for if I had fear'd death, of all the men i' th' world I would have 'voided thee; but in mere spite, To be full quit of those my banishers, Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast A heart of wreak in thee, that wilt revenge Thine own particular wrongs and stop those maims Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee straight And make my misery serve thy turn. So use it That my revengeful services may prove As benefits to thee; for I will fight Against my cank'red country with the spleen Of all the under fiends. But if so be Thou dar'st not this, and that to prove more fortunes Th'art tir'd, then, in a word, I also am Longer to live most weary, and present My throat to thee and to thy ancient malice; Which not to cut would show thee but a fool, Since I have ever followed thee with hate, Drawn tuns of blood out of thy country's breast, And cannot live but to thy shame, unless It be to do thee service. AUFIDIUS. O Marcius, Marcius! Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond cloud speak divine things, And say ''Tis true,' I'd not believe them more Than thee, all noble Marcius. Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where against My grained ash an hundred times hath broke And scarr'd the moon with splinters; here I clip The anvil of my sword, and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, I lov'd the maid I married; never man Sigh'd truer breath; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing, more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars, I tell the We have a power on foot, and I had purpose Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Or lose mine arm for't. Thou hast beat me out Twelve several times, and I have nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me- We have been down together in my sleep, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat- And wak'd half dead with nothing. Worthy Marcius, Had we no other quarrel else to Rome but that Thou art thence banish'd, we would muster all From twelve to seventy, and, pouring war Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, Like a bold flood o'erbeat. O, come, go in, And take our friendly senators by th' hands, Who now are here, taking their leaves of me Who am prepar'd against your territories, Though not for Rome itself. CORIOLANUS. You bless me, gods! AUFIDIUS. Therefore, most. absolute sir, if thou wilt have The leading of thine own revenges, take Th' one half of my commission, and set down- As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy country's strength and weakness- thine own ways, Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote To fright them ere destroy. But come in; Let me commend thee first to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes! And more a friend than e'er an enemy; Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand; most welcome! Exeunt CORIOLANUS and AUFIDIUS The two SERVINGMEN come forward FIRST SERVANT. Here's a strange alteration! SECOND SERVANT. By my hand, I had thought to have strucken him with a cudgel; and yet my mind gave me his clothes made a false report of him. FIRST SERVANT. What an arm he has! He turn'd me about with his finger and his thumb, as one would set up a top. SECOND SERVANT. Nay, I knew by his face that there was something in him; he had, sir, a kind of face, methought- I cannot tell how to term it. FIRST SERVANT. He had so, looking as it were- Would I were hang'd, but I thought there was more in him than I could think. SECOND SERVANT. So did I, I'll be sworn. He is simply the rarest man i' th' world. FIRST SERVANT. I think he is; but a greater soldier than he you wot on. SECOND SERVANT. Who, my master? FIRST SERVANT. Nay, it's no matter for that. SECOND SERVANT. Worth six on him. FIRST SERVANT. Nay, not so neither; but I take him to be the greater soldier. SECOND SERVANT. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that; for the defence of a town our general is excellent. FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and for an assault too. Re-enter the third SERVINGMAN THIRD SERVANT. O slaves, I can tell you news- news, you rascals! BOTH. What, what, what? Let's partake. THIRD SERVANT. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a condemn'd man. BOTH. Wherefore? wherefore? THIRD SERVANT. Why, here's he that was wont to thwack our general- Caius Marcius. FIRST SERVANT. Why do you say 'thwack our general'? THIRD SERVANT. I do not say 'thwack our general,' but he was always good enough for him. SECOND SERVANT. Come, we are fellows and friends. He was ever too hard for him, I have heard him say so himself. FIRST SERVANT. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on't; before Corioli he scotch'd him and notch'd him like a carbonado. SECOND SERVANT. An he had been cannibally given, he might have broil'd and eaten him too. FIRST SERVANT. But more of thy news! THIRD SERVANT. Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o' th' table; no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with's hand, and turns up the white o' th' eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i' th' middle and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He'll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th' ears; he will mow all down before him, and leave his passage poll'd. SECOND SERVANT. And he's as like to do't as any man I can imagine. THIRD SERVANT. Do't! He will do't; for look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies; which friends, sir, as it were, durst not- look you, sir- show themselves, as we term it, his friends, whilst he's in directitude. FIRST SERVANT. Directitude? What's that? THIRD SERVANT. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows, like conies after rain, and revel an with him. FIRST SERVANT. But when goes this forward? THIRD SERVANT. To-morrow, to-day, presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon; 'tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. SECOND SERVANT. Why, then we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers. FIRST SERVANT. Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mull'd, deaf, sleepy, insensible; a getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men. SECOND SERVANT. 'Tis so; and as war in some sort may be said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. FIRST SERVANT. Ay, and it makes men hate one another. THIRD SERVANT. Reason: because they then less need one another. The wars for my money. I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volscians. They are rising, they are rising. BOTH. In, in, in, in! Exeunt SCENE VI. Rome. A public place Enter the two Tribunes, SICINIUS and BRUTUS SICINIUS. We hear not of him, neither need we fear him. His remedies are tame. The present peace And quietness of the people, which before Were in wild hurry, here do make his friends Blush that the world goes well; who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pest'ring streets than see Our tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their functions friendly. Enter MENENIUS BRUTUS. We stood to't in good time. Is this Menenius? SICINIUS. 'Tis he, 'tis he. O, he is grown most kind Of late. Hail, sir! MENENIUS. Hail to you both! SICINIUS. Your Coriolanus is not much miss'd But with his friends. The commonwealth doth stand, And so would do, were he more angry at it. MENENIUS. All's well, and might have been much better He could have temporiz'd. SICINIUS. Where is he, hear you? MENENIUS. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and his wife Hear nothing from him. Enter three or four citizens CITIZENS. The gods preserve you both! SICINIUS. God-den, our neighbours. BRUTUS. God-den to you all, god-den to you an. FIRST CITIZEN. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on our knees Are bound to pray for you both. SICINIUS. Live and thrive! BRUTUS. Farewell, kind neighbours; we wish'd Coriolanus Had lov'd you as we did. CITIZENS. Now the gods keep you! BOTH TRIBUNES. Farewell, farewell. Exeunt citizens SICINIUS. This is a happier and more comely time Than when these fellows ran about the streets Crying confusion. BRUTUS. Caius Marcius was A worthy officer i' the war, but insolent, O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all thinking, Self-loving- SICINIUS. And affecting one sole throne, Without assistance. MENENIUS. I think not so. SICINIUS. We should by this, to all our lamentation, If he had gone forth consul, found it so. BRUTUS. The gods have well prevented it, and Rome Sits safe and still without him. Enter an AEDILE AEDILE. Worthy tribunes, There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, Reports the Volsces with several powers Are ent'red in the Roman territories, And with the deepest malice of the war Destroy what lies before 'em. MENENIUS. 'Tis Aufidius, Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, Thrusts forth his horns again into the world, Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood for Rome, And durst not once peep out. SICINIUS. Come, what talk you of Marcius? BRUTUS. Go see this rumourer whipp'd. It cannot be The Volsces dare break with us. MENENIUS. Cannot be! We have record that very well it can; And three examples of the like hath been Within my age. But reason with the fellow Before you punish him, where he heard this, Lest you shall chance to whip your information And beat the messenger who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded. SICINIUS. Tell not me. I know this cannot be. BRUTUS. Not Possible. Enter A MESSENGER MESSENGER. The nobles in great earnestness are going All to the Senate House; some news is come That turns their countenances. SICINIUS. 'Tis this slave- Go whip him fore the people's eyes- his raising, Nothing but his report. MESSENGER. Yes, worthy sir, The slave's report is seconded, and more, More fearful, is deliver'd. SICINIUS. What more fearful? MESSENGER. It is spoke freely out of many mouths- How probable I do not know- that Marcius, Join'd with Aufidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, And vows revenge as spacious as between The young'st and oldest thing. SICINIUS. This is most likely! BRUTUS. Rais'd only that the weaker sort may wish Good Marcius home again. SICINIUS. The very trick on 't. MENENIUS. This is unlikely. He and Aufidius can no more atone Than violent'st contrariety. Enter a second MESSENGER SECOND MESSENGER. You are sent for to the Senate. A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius Associated with Aufidius, rages Upon our territories, and have already O'erborne their way, consum'd with fire and took What lay before them. Enter COMINIUS COMINIUS. O, you have made good work! MENENIUS. What news? what news? COMINIUS. You have holp to ravish your own daughters and To melt the city leads upon your pates, To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses- MENENIUS. What's the news? What's the news? COMINIUS. Your temples burned in their cement, and Your franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd Into an auger's bore. MENENIUS. Pray now, your news? You have made fair work, I fear me. Pray, your news. If Marcius should be join'd wi' th' Volscians- COMINIUS. If! He is their god; he leads them like a thing Made by some other deity than Nature, That shapes man better; and they follow him Against us brats with no less confidence Than boys pursuing summer butterflies, Or butchers killing flies. MENENIUS. You have made good work, You and your apron men; you that stood so much Upon the voice of occupation and The breath of garlic-eaters! COMINIUS. He'll shake Your Rome about your ears. MENENIUS. As Hercules Did shake down mellow fruit. You have made fair work! BRUTUS. But is this true, sir? COMINIUS. Ay; and you'll look pale Before you find it other. All the regions Do smilingly revolt, and who resists Are mock'd for valiant ignorance, And perish constant fools. Who is't can blame him? Your enemies and his find something in him. MENENIUS. We are all undone unless The noble man have mercy. COMINIUS. Who shall ask it? The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people Deserve such pity of him as the wolf Does of the shepherds; for his best friends, if they Should say 'Be good to Rome'- they charg'd him even As those should do that had deserv'd his hate, And therein show'd fike enemies. MENENIUS. 'Tis true; If he were putting to my house the brand That should consume it, I have not the face To say 'Beseech you, cease.' You have made fair hands, You and your crafts! You have crafted fair! COMINIUS. You have brought A trembling upon Rome, such as was never S' incapable of help. BOTH TRIBUNES. Say not we brought it. MENENIUS. How! Was't we? We lov'd him, but, like beasts And cowardly nobles, gave way unto your clusters, Who did hoot him out o' th' city. COMINIUS. But I fear They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, The second name of men, obeys his points As if he were his officer. Desperation Is all the policy, strength, and defence, That Rome can make against them. Enter a troop of citizens MENENIUS. Here comes the clusters. And is Aufidius with him? You are they That made the air unwholesome when you cast Your stinking greasy caps in hooting at Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming, And not a hair upon a soldier's head Which will not prove a whip; as many coxcombs As you threw caps up will he tumble down, And pay you for your voices. 'Tis no matter; If he could burn us all into one coal We have deserv'd it. PLEBEIANS. Faith, we hear fearful news. FIRST CITIZEN. For mine own part, When I said banish him, I said 'twas pity. SECOND CITIZEN. And so did I. THIRD CITIZEN. And so did I; and, to say the truth, so did very many of us. That we did, we did for the best; and though we willingly consented to his banishment, yet it was against our will. COMINIUS. Y'are goodly things, you voices! MENENIUS. You have made Good work, you and your cry! Shall's to the Capitol? COMINIUS. O, ay, what else? Exeunt COMINIUS and MENENIUS SICINIUS. Go, masters, get you be not dismay'd; These are a side that would be glad to have This true which they so seem to fear. Go home, And show no sign of fear. FIRST CITIZEN. The gods be good to us! Come, masters, let's home. I ever said we were i' th' wrong when we banish'd him. SECOND CITIZEN. So did we all. But come, let's home. Exeunt citizens BRUTUS. I do not like this news. SICINIUS. Nor I. BRUTUS. Let's to the Capitol. Would half my wealth Would buy this for a lie! SICINIUS. Pray let's go. Exeunt SCENE VII. A camp at a short distance from Rome Enter AUFIDIUS with his LIEUTENANT AUFIDIUS. Do they still fly to th' Roman? LIEUTENANT. I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are dark'ned in this action, sir, Even by your own. AUFIDIUS. I cannot help it now, Unless by using means I lame the foot Of our design. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him; yet his nature In that's no changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended. LIEUTENANT. Yet I wish, sir- I mean, for your particular- you had not Join'd in commission with him, but either Had borne the action of yourself, or else To him had left it solely. AUFIDIUS. I understand thee well; and be thou sure, When he shall come to his account, he knows not What I can urge against him. Although it seems, And so he thinks, and is no less apparent To th' vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine Whene'er we come to our account. LIEUTENANT. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome? AUFIDIUS. All places yield to him ere he sits down, And the nobility of Rome are his; The senators and patricians love him too. The tribunes are no soldiers, and their people Will be as rash in the repeal as hasty To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First he was A noble servant to them, but he could not Carry his honours even. Whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From th' casque to th' cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these- As he hath spices of them all- not all, For I dare so far free him- made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd. But he has a merit To choke it in the utt'rance. So our virtues Lie in th' interpretation of the time; And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair T' extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. Exeunt ACT V. SCENE I. Rome. A public place Enter MENENIUS, COMINIUS, SICINIUS and BRUTUS, the two Tribunes, with others MENENIUS. No, I'll not go. You hear what he hath said Which was sometime his general, who lov'd him In a most dear particular. He call'd me father; But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him: A mile before his tent fall down, and knee The way into his mercy. Nay, if he coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. COMINIUS. He would not seem to know me. MENENIUS. Do you hear? COMINIUS. Yet one time he did call me by my name. I urg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops That we have bled together. 'Coriolanus' He would not answer to; forbid all names; He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forg'd himself a name i' th' fire Of burning Rome. MENENIUS. Why, so! You have made good work. A pair of tribunes that have wrack'd for Rome To make coals cheap- a noble memory! COMINIUS. I minded him how royal 'twas to pardon When it was less expected; he replied, It was a bare petition of a state To one whom they had punish'd. MENENIUS. Very well. Could he say less? COMINIUS. I offer'd to awaken his regard For's private friends; his answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff. He said 'twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt And still to nose th' offence. MENENIUS. For one poor grain or two! I am one of those. His mother, wife, his child, And this brave fellow too- we are the grains: You are the musty chaff, and you are smelt Above the moon. We must be burnt for you. SICINIUS. Nay, pray be patient; if you refuse your aid In this so never-needed help, yet do not Upbraid's with our distress. But sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. MENENIUS. No; I'll not meddle. SICINIUS. Pray you go to him. MENENIUS. What should I do? BRUTUS. Only make trial what your love can do For Rome, towards Marcius. MENENIUS. Well, and say that Marcius Return me, as Cominius is return'd, Unheard- what then? But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? Say't be so? SICINIUS. Yet your good will Must have that thanks from Rome after the measure As you intended well. MENENIUS. I'll undertake't; I think he'll hear me. Yet to bite his lip And hum at good Cominius much unhearts me. He was not taken well: he had not din'd; The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd These pipes and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts. Therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him. BRUTUS. You know the very road into his kindness And cannot lose your way. MENENIUS. Good faith, I'll prove him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. Exit COMINIUS. He'll never hear him. SICINIUS. Not? COMINIUS. I tell you he does sit in gold, his eye Red as 'twould burn Rome, and his injury The gaoler to his pity. I kneel'd before him; 'Twas very faintly he said 'Rise'; dismiss'd me Thus with his speechless hand. What he would do, He sent in writing after me; what he would not, Bound with an oath to yield to his conditions; So that all hope is vain, Unless his noble mother and his wife, Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him For mercy to his country. Therefore let's hence, And with our fair entreaties haste them on. Exeunt SCENE II. The Volscian camp before Rome Enter MENENIUS to the WATCH on guard FIRST WATCH. Stay. Whence are you? SECOND WATCH. Stand, and go back. MENENIUS. You guard like men, 'tis well; but, by your leave, I am an officer of state and come To speak with Coriolanus. FIRST WATCH. From whence? MENENIUS. From Rome. FIRST WATCH. YOU may not pass; you must return. Our general Will no more hear from thence. SECOND WATCH. You'll see your Rome embrac'd with fire before You'll speak with Coriolanus. MENENIUS. Good my friends, If you have heard your general talk of Rome And of his friends there, it is lots to blanks My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Menenius. FIRST WATCH. Be it so; go back. The virtue of your name Is not here passable. MENENIUS. I tell thee, fellow, Thy general is my lover. I have been The book of his good acts whence men have read His fame unparallel'd haply amplified; For I have ever verified my friends- Of whom he's chief- with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer. Nay, sometimes, Like to a bowl upon a subtle ground, I have tumbled past the throw, and in his praise Have almost stamp'd the leasing; therefore, fellow, I must have leave to pass. FIRST WATCH. Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalf as you have uttered words in your own, you should not pass here; no, though it were as virtuous to lie as to live chastely. Therefore go back. MENENIUS. Prithee, fellow, remember my name is Menenius, always factionary on the party of your general. SECOND WATCH. Howsoever you have been his liar, as you say you have, I am one that, telling true under him, must say you cannot pass. Therefore go back. MENENIUS. Has he din'd, canst thou tell? For I would not speak with him till after dinner. FIRST WATCH. You are a Roman, are you? MENENIUS. I am as thy general is. FIRST WATCH. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. Can you, when you have push'd out your gates the very defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance given your enemy your shield, think to front his revenges with the easy groans of old women, the virginal palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decay'd dotant as you seem to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire your city is ready to flame in with such weak breath as this? No, you are deceiv'd; therefore back to Rome and prepare for your execution. You are condemn'd; our general has sworn you out of reprieve and pardon. MENENIUS. Sirrah, if thy captain knew I were here, he would use me with estimation. FIRST WATCH. Come, my captain knows you not. MENENIUS. I mean thy general. FIRST WATCH. My general cares not for you. Back, I say; go, lest I let forth your half pint of blood. Back- that's the utmost of your having. Back. MENENIUS. Nay, but fellow, fellow- Enter CORIOLANUS with AUFIDIUS CORIOLANUS. What's the matter? MENENIUS. Now, you companion, I'll say an errand for you; you shall know now that I am in estimation; you shall perceive that a Jack guardant cannot office me from my son Coriolanus. Guess but by my entertainment with him if thou stand'st not i' th' state of hanging, or of some death more long in spectatorship and crueller in suffering; behold now presently, and swoon for what's to come upon thee. The glorious gods sit in hourly synod about thy particular prosperity, and love thee no worse than thy old father Menenius does! O my son! my son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, here's water to quench it. I was hardly moved to come to thee; but being assured none but myself could move thee, I have been blown out of your gates with sighs, and conjure thee to pardon Rome and thy petitionary countrymen. The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, like a block, hath denied my access to thee. CORIOLANUS. Away! MENENIUS. How! away! CORIOLANUS. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs Are servanted to others. Though I owe My revenge properly, my remission lies In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar, Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison rather Than pity note how much. Therefore be gone. Mine ears against your suits are stronger than Your gates against my force. Yet, for I lov'd thee, Take this along; I writ it for thy sake [Gives a letter] And would have sent it. Another word, Menenius, I will not hear thee speak. This man, Aufidius, Was my belov'd in Rome; yet thou behold'st. AUFIDIUS. You keep a constant temper. Exeunt CORIOLANUS and Aufidius FIRST WATCH. Now, sir, is your name Menenius? SECOND WATCH. 'Tis a spell, you see, of much power! You know the way home again. FIRST WATCH. Do you hear how we are shent for keeping your greatness back? SECOND WATCH. What cause, do you think, I have to swoon? MENENIUS. I neither care for th' world nor your general; for such things as you, I can scarce think there's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himself fears it not from another. Let your general do his worst. For you, be that you are, long; and your misery increase with your age! I say to you, as I was said to: Away! Exit FIRST WATCH. A noble fellow, I warrant him. SECOND WATCH. The worthy fellow is our general; he's the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. Exeunt SCENE III. The tent of CORIOLANUS Enter CORIOLANUS, AUFIDIUS, and others CORIOLANUS. We will before the walls of Rome to-morrow Set down our host. My partner in this action, You must report to th' Volscian lords how plainly I have borne this business. AUFIDIUS. Only their ends You have respected; stopp'd your ears against The general suit of Rome; never admitted A private whisper- no, not with such friends That thought them sure of you. CORIOLANUS. This last old man, Whom with crack'd heart I have sent to Rome, Lov'd me above the measure of a father; Nay, godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have- Though I show'd sourly to him- once more offer'd The first conditions, which they did refuse And cannot now accept. To grace him only, That thought he could do more, a very little I have yielded to; fresh embassies and suits, Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter Will I lend ear to. [Shout within] Ha! what shout is this? Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not. Enter, in mourning habits, VIRGILIA, VOLUMNIA, VALERIA, YOUNG MARCIUS, with attendants My wife comes foremost, then the honour'd mould Wherein this trunk was fram'd, and in her hand The grandchild to her blood. But out, affection! All bond and privilege of nature, break! Let it be virtuous to be obstinate. What is that curtsy worth? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows, As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod; and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession which Great nature cries 'Deny not.' Let the Volsces Plough Rome and harrow Italy; I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand As if a man were author of himself And knew no other kin. VIRGILIA. My lord and husband! CORIOLANUS. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome. VIRGILIA. The sorrow that delivers us thus chang'd Makes you think so. CORIOLANUS. Like a dull actor now I have forgot my part and I am out, Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, For that, 'Forgive our Romans.' O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgin'd it e'er since. You gods! I prate, And the most noble mother of the world Leave unsaluted. Sink, my knee, i' th' earth; [Kneels] Of thy deep duty more impression show Than that of common sons. VOLUMNIA. O, stand up blest! Whilst with no softer cushion than the flint I kneel before thee, and unproperly Show duty, as mistaken all this while Between the child and parent. [Kneels] CORIOLANUS. What's this? Your knees to me, to your corrected son? Then let the pebbles on the hungry beach Fillip the stars; then let the mutinous winds Strike the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun, Murd'ring impossibility, to make What cannot be slight work. VOLUMNIA. Thou art my warrior; I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady? CORIOLANUS. The noble sister of Publicola, The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle That's curdied by the frost from purest snow, And hangs on Dian's temple- dear Valeria! VOLUMNIA. This is a poor epitome of yours, Which by th' interpretation of full time May show like all yourself. CORIOLANUS. The god of soldiers, With the consent of supreme Jove, inform Thy thoughts with nobleness, that thou mayst prove To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' th' wars Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, And saving those that eye thee! VOLUMNIA. Your knee, sirrah. CORIOLANUS. That's my brave boy. VOLUMNIA. Even he, your wife, this lady, and myself, Are suitors to you. CORIOLANUS. I beseech you, peace! Or, if you'd ask, remember this before: The thing I have forsworn to grant may never Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate Again with Rome's mechanics. Tell me not Wherein I seem unnatural; desire not T'allay my rages and revenges with Your colder reasons. VOLUMNIA. O, no more, no more! You have said you will not grant us any thing- For we have nothing else to ask but that Which you deny already; yet we will ask, That, if you fail in our request, the blame May hang upon your hardness; therefore hear us. CORIOLANUS. Aufidius, and you Volsces, mark; for we'll Hear nought from Rome in private. Your request? VOLUMNIA. Should we be silent and not speak, our raiment And state of bodies would bewray what life We have led since thy exile. Think with thyself How more unfortunate than all living women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with comforts, Constrains them weep and shake with fear and sorrow, Making the mother, wife, and child, to see The son, the husband, and the father, tearing His country's bowels out. And to poor we Thine enmity's most capital: thou bar'st us Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort That all but we enjoy. For how can we, Alas, how can we for our country pray, Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory, Whereto we are bound? Alack, or we must lose The country, our dear nurse, or else thy person, Our comfort in the country. We must find An evident calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win; for either thou Must as a foreign recreant be led With manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin, And bear the palm for having bravely shed Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, son, I purpose not to wait on fortune till These wars determine; if I can not persuade thee Rather to show a noble grace to both parts Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy country than to tread- Trust to't, thou shalt not- on thy mother's womb That brought thee to this world. VIRGILIA. Ay, and mine, That brought you forth this boy to keep your name Living to time. BOY. 'A shall not tread on me! I'll run away till I am bigger, but then I'll fight. CORIOLANUS. Not of a woman's tenderness to be Requires nor child nor woman's face to see. I have sat too long. [Rising] VOLUMNIA. Nay, go not from us thus. If it were so that our request did tend To save the Romans, thereby to destroy The Volsces whom you serve, you might condemn us As poisonous of your honour. No, our suit Is that you reconcile them: while the Volsces May say 'This mercy we have show'd,' the Romans 'This we receiv'd,' and each in either side Give the all-hail to thee, and cry 'Be blest For making up this peace!' Thou know'st, great son, The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, That, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reap is such a name Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; Whose chronicle thus writ: 'The man was noble, But with his last attempt he wip'd it out, Destroy'd his country, and his name remains To th' ensuing age abhorr'd.' Speak to me, son. Thou hast affected the fine strains of honour, To imitate the graces of the gods, To tear with thunder the wide cheeks o' th' air, And yet to charge thy sulphur with a bolt That should but rive an oak. Why dost not speak? Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speak you: He cares not for your weeping. Speak thou, boy; Perhaps thy childishness will move him more Than can our reasons. There's no man in the world More bound to's mother, yet here he lets me prate Like one i' th' stocks. Thou hast never in thy life Show'd thy dear mother any courtesy, When she, poor hen, fond of no second brood, Has cluck'd thee to the wars, and safely home Loaden with honour. Say my request's unjust, And spurn me back; but if it he not so, Thou art not honest, and the gods will plague thee, That thou restrain'st from me the duty which To a mother's part belongs. He turns away. Down, ladies; let us shame him with our knees. To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride Than pity to our prayers. Down. An end; This is the last. So we will home to Rome, And die among our neighbours. Nay, behold's! This boy, that cannot tell what he would have But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, Does reason our petition with more strength Than thou hast to deny't. Come, let us go. This fellow had a Volscian to his mother; His wife is in Corioli, and his child Like him by chance. Yet give us our dispatch. I am hush'd until our city be afire, And then I'll speak a little. [He holds her by the hand, silent] CORIOLANUS. O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son- believe it, O, believe it!- Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him. But let it come. Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Aufidius, Were you in my stead, would you have heard A mother less, or granted less, Aufidius? AUFIDIUS. I was mov'd withal. CORIOLANUS. I dare be sworn you were! And, sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But, good sir, What peace you'fl make, advise me. For my part, I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you; and pray you Stand to me in this cause. O mother! wife! AUFIDIUS. [Aside] I am glad thou hast set thy mercy and thy honour At difference in thee. Out of that I'll work Myself a former fortune. CORIOLANUS. [To the ladies] Ay, by and by; But we will drink together; and you shall bear A better witness back than words, which we, On like conditions, will have counter-seal'd. Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve To have a temple built you. All the swords In Italy, and her confederate arms, Could not have made this peace. Exeunt SCENE IV. Rome. A public place Enter MENENIUS and SICINIUS MENENIUS. See you yond coign o' th' Capitol, yond cornerstone? SICINIUS. Why, what of that? MENENIUS. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the ladies of Rome, especially his mother, may prevail with him. But I say there is no hope in't; our throats are sentenc'd, and stay upon execution. SICINIUS. Is't possible that so short a time can alter the condition of a man? MENENIUS. There is differency between a grub and a butterfly; yet your butterfly was a grub. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon; he has wings, he's more than a creeping thing. SICINIUS. He lov'd his mother dearly. MENENIUS. So did he me; and he no more remembers his mother now than an eight-year-old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes; when he walks, he moves like an engine and the ground shrinks before his treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with his eye, talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids be done is finish'd with his bidding. He wants nothing of a god but eternity, and a heaven to throne in. SICINIUS. Yes- mercy, if you report him truly. MENENIUS. I paint him in the character. Mark what mercy his mother shall bring from him. There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger; that shall our poor city find. And all this is 'long of you. SICINIUS. The gods be good unto us! MENENIUS. No, in such a case the gods will not be good unto us. When we banish'd him we respected not them; and, he returning to break our necks, they respect not us. Enter a MESSENGER MESSENGER. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to your house. The plebeians have got your fellow tribune And hale him up and down; all swearing if The Roman ladies bring not comfort home They'll give him death by inches. Enter another MESSENGER SICINIUS. What's the news? SECOND MESSENGER. Good news, good news! The ladies have prevail'd, The Volscians are dislodg'd, and Marcius gone. A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins. SICINIUS. Friend, Art thou certain this is true? Is't most certain? SECOND MESSENGER. As certain as I know the sun is fire. Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt of it? Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide As the recomforted through th' gates. Why, hark you! [Trumpets, hautboys, drums beat, all together] The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes, Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, Make the sun dance. Hark you! [A shout within] MENENIUS. This is good news. I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, A city full; of tribunes such as you, A sea and land full. You have pray'd well to-day: This morning for ten thousand of your throats I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they joy! [Sound still with the shouts] SICINIUS. First, the gods bless you for your tidings; next, Accept my thankfulness. SECOND MESSENGER. Sir, we have all Great cause to give great thanks. SICINIUS. They are near the city? MESSENGER. Almost at point to enter. SICINIUS. We'll meet them, And help the joy. Exeunt SCENE V. Rome. A street near the gate Enter two SENATORS With VOLUMNIA, VIRGILIA, VALERIA, passing over the stage, 'With other LORDS FIRST SENATOR. Behold our patroness, the life of Rome! Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, And make triumphant fires; strew flowers before them. Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, Repeal him with the welcome of his mother; ALL. Welcome, ladies, welcome! [A flourish with drums and trumpets. Exeunt] SCENE VI. Corioli. A public place Enter TULLUS AUFIDIUS with attendents AUFIDIUS. Go tell the lords o' th' city I am here; Deliver them this paper' having read it, Bid them repair to th' market-place, where I, Even in theirs and in the commons' ears, Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse The city ports by this hath enter'd and Intends t' appear before the people, hoping To purge himself with words. Dispatch. Exeunt attendants Enter three or four CONSPIRATORS of AUFIDIUS' faction Most welcome! FIRST CONSPIRATOR. How is it with our general? AUFIDIUS. Even so As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, And with his charity slain. SECOND CONSPIRATOR. Most noble sir, If you do hold the same intent wherein You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you Of your great danger. AUFIDIUS. Sir, I cannot tell; We must proceed as we do find the people. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. The people will remain uncertain whilst 'Twixt you there's difference; but the fall of either Makes the survivor heir of all. AUFIDIUS. I know it; And my pretext to strike at him admits A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine honour for his truth; who being so heighten'd, He watered his new plants with dews of flattery, Seducing so my friends; and to this end He bow'd his nature, never known before But to be rough, unswayable, and free. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Sir, his stoutness When he did stand for consul, which he lost By lack of stooping- AUFIDIUS. That I would have spoken of. Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth, Presented to my knife his throat. I took him; Made him joint-servant with me; gave him way In all his own desires; nay, let him choose Out of my files, his projects to accomplish, My best and freshest men; serv'd his designments In mine own person; holp to reap the fame Which he did end all his, and took some pride To do myself this wrong. Till, at the last, I seem'd his follower, not partner; and He wag'd me with his countenance as if I had been mercenary. FIRST CONSPIRATOR. So he did, my lord. The army marvell'd at it; and, in the last, When he had carried Rome and that we look'd For no less spoil than glory- AUFIDIUS. There was it; For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon him. At a few drops of women's rheum, which are As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour Of our great action; therefore shall he die, And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark! [Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts of the people] FIRST CONSPIRATOR. Your native town you enter'd like a post, And had no welcomes home; but he returns Splitting the air with noise. SECOND CONSPIRATOR. And patient fools, Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear With giving him glory. THIRD CONSPIRATOR. Therefore, at your vantage, Ere he express himself or move the people With what he would say, let him feel your sword, Which we will second. When he lies along, After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury His reasons with his body. AUFIDIUS. Say no more: Here come the lords. Enter the LORDS of the city LORDS. You are most welcome home. AUFIDIUS. I have not deserv'd it. But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused What I have written to you? LORDS. We have. FIRST LORD. And grieve to hear't. What faults he made before the last, I think Might have found easy fines; but there to end Where he was to begin, and give away The benefit of our levies, answering us With our own charge, making a treaty where There was a yielding- this admits no excuse. AUFIDIUS. He approaches; you shall hear him. Enter CORIOLANUS, marching with drum and colours; the commoners being with him CORIOLANUS. Hail, lords! I am return'd your soldier; No more infected with my country's love Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting Under your great command. You are to know That prosperously I have attempted, and With bloody passage led your wars even to The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought home Doth more than counterpoise a full third part The charges of the action. We have made peace With no less honour to the Antiates Than shame to th' Romans; and we here deliver, Subscrib'd by th' consuls and patricians, Together with the seal o' th' Senate, what We have compounded on. AUFIDIUS. Read it not, noble lords; But tell the traitor in the highest degree He hath abus'd your powers. CORIOLANUS. Traitor! How now? AUFIDIUS. Ay, traitor, Marcius. CORIOLANUS. Marcius! AUFIDIUS. Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius! Dost thou think I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n name Coriolanus, in Corioli? You lords and heads o' th' state, perfidiously He has betray'd your business and given up, For certain drops of salt, your city Rome- I say your city- to his wife and mother; Breaking his oath and resolution like A twist of rotten silk; never admitting Counsel o' th' war; but at his nurse's tears He whin'd and roar'd away your victory, That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wond'ring each at others. CORIOLANUS. Hear'st thou, Mars? AUFIDIUS. Name not the god, thou boy of tears- CORIOLANUS. Ha! AUFIDIUS. -no more. CORIOLANUS. Measureless liar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what contains it. 'Boy'! O slave! Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever I was forc'd to scold. Your judgments, my grave lords, Must give this cur the lie; and his own notion- Who wears my stripes impress'd upon him, that Must bear my beating to his grave- shall join To thrust the lie unto him. FIRST LORD. Peace, both, and hear me speak. CORIOLANUS. Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. 'Boy'! False hound! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there That, like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli. Alone I did it. 'Boy'! AUFIDIUS. Why, noble lords, Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, Fore your own eyes and ears? CONSPIRATORS. Let him die for't. ALL THE PEOPLE. Tear him to pieces. Do it presently. He kill'd my son. My daughter. He kill'd my cousin Marcus. He kill'd my father. SECOND LORD. Peace, ho! No outrage- peace! The man is noble, and his fame folds in This orb o' th' earth. His last offences to us Shall have judicious hearing. Stand, Aufidius, And trouble not the peace. CORIOLANUS. O that I had him, With six Aufidiuses, or more- his tribe, To use my lawful sword! AUFIDIUS. Insolent villain! CONSPIRATORS. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him! [The CONSPIRATORS draw and kill CORIOLANUS,who falls. AUFIDIUS stands on him] LORDS. Hold, hold, hold, hold! AUFIDIUS. My noble masters, hear me speak. FIRST LORD. O Tullus! SECOND LORD. Thou hast done a deed whereat valour will weep. THIRD LORD. Tread not upon him. Masters all, be quiet; Put up your swords. AUFIDIUS. My lords, when you shall know- as in this rage, Provok'd by him, you cannot- the great danger Which this man's life did owe you, you'll rejoice That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours To call me to your Senate, I'll deliver Myself your loyal servant, or endure Your heaviest censure. FIRST LORD. Bear from hence his body, And mourn you for him. Let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his um. SECOND LORD. His own impatience Takes from Aufidius a great part of blame. Let's make the best of it. AUFIDIUS. My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers; I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speak mournfully; Trail your steel pikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist. Exeunt, bearing the body of CORIOLANUS [A dead march sounded] -THE END- 1609 CYMBELINE by William Shakespeare Dramatis Personae CYMBELINE, King of Britain CLOTEN, son to the Queen by a former husband POSTHUMUS LEONATUS, a gentleman, husband to Imogen BELARIUS, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan GUIDERIUS and ARVIRAGUS, sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of POLYDORE and CADWAL, supposed sons to Belarius PHILARIO, Italian, friend to Posthumus IACHIMO, Italian, friend to Philario A FRENCH GENTLEMAN, friend to Philario CAIUS LUCIUS, General of the Roman Forces A ROMAN CAPTAIN TWO BRITISH CAPTAINS PISANIO, servant to Posthumus CORNELIUS, a physician TWO LORDS of Cymbeline's court TWO GENTLEMEN of the same TWO GAOLERS QUEEN, wife to Cymbeline IMOGEN, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen HELEN, a lady attending on Imogen APPARITIONS Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Soothsayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants SCENE: Britain; Italy ACT I. SCENE I. Britain. The garden of CYMBELINE'S palace FIRST GENTLEMAN. You do not meet a man but frowns; our bloods No more obey the heavens than our courtiers Still seem as does the King's. SECOND GENTLEMAN. But what's the matter? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His daughter, and the heir of's kingdom, whom He purpos'd to his wife's sole son- a widow That late he married- hath referr'd herself Unto a poor but worthy gentleman. She's wedded; Her husband banish'd; she imprison'd. All Is outward sorrow, though I think the King Be touch'd at very heart. SECOND GENTLEMAN. None but the King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath lost her too. So is the Queen, That most desir'd the match. But not a courtier, Although they wear their faces to the bent Of the King's looks, hath a heart that is not Glad at the thing they scowl at. SECOND GENTLEMAN. And why so? FIRST GENTLEMAN. He that hath miss'd the Princess is a thing Too bad for bad report; and he that hath her- I mean that married her, alack, good man! And therefore banish'd- is a creature such As, to seek through the regions of the earth For one his like, there would be something failing In him that should compare. I do not think So fair an outward and such stuff within Endows a man but he. SECOND GENTLEMAN. You speak him far. FIRST GENTLEMAN. I do extend him, sir, within himself; Crush him together rather than unfold His measure duly. SECOND GENTLEMAN. What's his name and birth? FIRST GENTLEMAN. I cannot delve him to the root; his father Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour Against the Romans with Cassibelan, But had his titles by Tenantius, whom He serv'd with glory and admir'd success, So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus; And had, besides this gentleman in question, Two other sons, who, in the wars o' th' time, Died with their swords in hand; for which their father, Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow That he quit being; and his gentle lady, Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd As he was born. The King he takes the babe To his protection, calls him Posthumus Leonatus, Breeds him and makes him of his bed-chamber, Puts to him all the learnings that his time Could make him the receiver of; which he took, As we do air, fast as 'twas minist'red, And in's spring became a harvest, liv'd in court- Which rare it is to do- most prais'd, most lov'd, A sample to the youngest; to th' more mature A glass that feated them; and to the graver A child that guided dotards. To his mistress, For whom he now is banish'd- her own price Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue; By her election may be truly read What kind of man he is. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I honour him Even out of your report. But pray you tell me, Is she sole child to th' King? FIRST GENTLEMAN. His only child. He had two sons- if this be worth your hearing, Mark it- the eldest of them at three years old, I' th' swathing clothes the other, from their nursery Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went. SECOND GENTLEMAN. How long is this ago? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Some twenty years. SECOND GENTLEMAN. That a king's children should be so convey'd, So slackly guarded, and the search so slow That could not trace them! FIRST GENTLEMAN. Howsoe'er 'tis strange, Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I do well believe you. FIRST GENTLEMAN. We must forbear; here comes the gentleman, The Queen, and Princess. Exeunt Enter the QUEEN, POSTHUMUS, and IMOGEN QUEEN. No, be assur'd you shall not find me, daughter, After the slander of most stepmothers, Evil-ey'd unto you. You're my prisoner, but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthumus, So soon as I can win th' offended King, I will be known your advocate. Marry, yet The fire of rage is in him, and 'twere good You lean'd unto his sentence with what patience Your wisdom may inform you. POSTHUMUS. Please your Highness, I will from hence to-day. QUEEN. You know the peril. I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections, though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together. Exit IMOGEN. O dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant Can tickle where she wounds! My dearest husband, I something fear my father's wrath, but nothing- Always reserv'd my holy duty- what His rage can do on me. You must be gone; And I shall here abide the hourly shot Of angry eyes, not comforted to live But that there is this jewel in the world That I may see again. POSTHUMUS. My queen! my mistress! O lady, weep no more, lest I give cause To be suspected of more tenderness Than doth become a man. I will remain The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth; My residence in Rome at one Phil