Act 1, Scene 1 A desert place. Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches First Witch When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? Second Witch When the hurlyburly's done, When the battle's lost and won. Third Witch That will be ere the set of sun. First Witch Where the place? Second Witch Upon the heath. Third Witch There to meet with Macbeth. First Witch I come, Graymalkin! Second Witch Paddock calls. Third Witch Anon. ALL Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 2 A camp near Forres. Alarum within. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant DUNCAN What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The newest state. MALCOLM This is the sergeant Who like a good and hardy soldier fought 'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend! Say to the king the knowledge of the broil As thou didst leave it. Sergeant Doubtful it stood; As two spent swimmers, that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald-- Worthy to be a rebel, for to that The multiplying villanies of nature Do swarm upon him--from the western isles Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied; And fortune, on his damned quarrel smiling, Show'd like a rebel's whore: but all's too weak: For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name-- Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel, Which smoked with bloody execution, Like valour's minion carved out his passage Till he faced the slave; Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps, And fix'd his head upon our battlements. DUNCAN O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! Sergeant As whence the sun 'gins his reflection Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring whence comfort seem'd to come Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark: No sooner justice had with valour arm'd Compell'd these skipping kerns to trust their heels, But the Norweyan lord surveying vantage, With furbish'd arms and new supplies of men Began a fresh assault. DUNCAN Dismay'd not this Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? Sergeant Yes; As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion. If I say sooth, I must report they were As cannons overcharged with double cracks, so they Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking wounds, Or memorise another Golgotha, I cannot tell. But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. DUNCAN So well thy words become thee as thy wounds; They smack of honour both. Go get him surgeons. Exit Sergeant, attended Who comes here? Enter ROSS MALCOLM The worthy thane of Ross. LENNOX What a haste looks through his eyes! So should he look That seems to speak things strange. ROSS God save the king! DUNCAN Whence camest thou, worthy thane? ROSS From Fife, great king; Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky And fan our people cold. Norway himself, With terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyal traitor The thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict; Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof, Confronted him with self-comparisons, Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm. Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude, The victory fell on us. DUNCAN Great happiness! ROSS That now Sweno, the Norways' king, craves composition: Nor would we deign him burial of his men Till he disbursed at Saint Colme's inch Ten thousand dollars to our general use. DUNCAN No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive Our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death, And with his former title greet Macbeth. ROSS I'll see it done. DUNCAN What he hath lost noble Macbeth hath won. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 3 A heath near Forres. Thunder. Enter the three Witches First Witch Where hast thou been, sister? Second Witch Killing swine. Third Witch Sister, where thou? First Witch A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap, And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:-- 'Give me,' quoth I: 'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries. Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger: But in a sieve I'll thither sail, And, like a rat without a tail, I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do. Second Witch I'll give thee a wind. First Witch Thou'rt kind. Third Witch And I another. First Witch I myself have all the other, And the very ports they blow, All the quarters that they know I' the shipman's card. I will drain him dry as hay: Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent-house lid; He shall live a man forbid: Weary se'nnights nine times nine Shall he dwindle, peak and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost. Look what I have. Second Witch Show me, show me. First Witch Here I have a pilot's thumb, Wreck'd as homeward he did come. Drum within Third Witch A drum, a drum! Macbeth doth come. ALL The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about: Thrice to thine and thrice to mine And thrice again, to make up nine. Peace! the charm's wound up. Enter MACBETH and BANQUO MACBETH So foul and fair a day I have not seen. BANQUO How far is't call'd to Forres? What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aught That man may question? You seem to understand me, By each at once her chappy finger laying Upon her skinny lips: you should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so. MACBETH Speak, if you can: what are you? First Witch All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis! Second Witch All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! Third Witch All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter! BANQUO Good sir, why do you start; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear Your favours nor your hate. First Witch Hail! Second Witch Hail! Third Witch Hail! First Witch Lesser than Macbeth, and greater. Second Witch Not so happy, yet much happier. Third Witch Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none: So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo! First Witch Banquo and Macbeth, all hail! MACBETH Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis; But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. Witches vanish BANQUO The earth hath bubbles, as the water has, And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd? MACBETH Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd! BANQUO Were such things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner? MACBETH Your children shall be kings. BANQUO You shall be king. MACBETH And thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? BANQUO To the selfsame tune and words. Who's here? Enter ROSS and ANGUS ROSS The king hath happily received, Macbeth, The news of thy success; and when he reads Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight, His wonders and his praises do contend Which should be thine or his: silenced with that, In viewing o'er the rest o' the selfsame day, He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, Strange images of death. As thick as hail Came post with post; and every one did bear Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, And pour'd them down before him. ANGUS We are sent To give thee from our royal master thanks; Only to herald thee into his sight, Not pay thee. ROSS And, for an earnest of a greater honour, He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor: In which addition, hail, most worthy thane! For it is thine. BANQUO What, can the devil speak true? MACBETH The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow'd robes? ANGUS Who was the thane lives yet; But under heavy judgment bears that life Which he deserves to lose. Whether he was combined With those of Norway, or did line the rebel With hidden help and vantage, or that with both He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not; But treasons capital, confess'd and proved, Have overthrown him. MACBETH [Aside] Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind. To ROSS and ANGUS Thanks for your pains. To BANQUO Do you not hope your children shall be kings, When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me Promised no less to them? BANQUO That trusted home Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you. MACBETH [Aside] Two truths are told, As happy prologues to the swelling act Of the imperial theme.--I thank you, gentlemen. [Aside] This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings: My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man that function Is smother'd in surmise, and nothing is But what is not. BANQUO Look, how our partner's rapt. MACBETH [Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Without my stir. BANQUO New horrors come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use. MACBETH [Aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day. BANQUO Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure. MACBETH Give me your favour: my dull brain was wrought With things forgotten. Kind gentlemen, your pains Are register'd where every day I turn The leaf to read them. Let us toward the king. Think upon what hath chanced, and, at more time, The interim having weigh'd it, let us speak Our free hearts each to other. BANQUO Very gladly. MACBETH Till then, enough. Come, friends. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 4 Forres. The palace. Flourish. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, and Attendants DUNCAN Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not Those in commission yet return'd? MALCOLM My liege, They are not yet come back. But I have spoke With one that saw him die: who did report That very frankly he confess'd his treasons, Implored your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle. DUNCAN There's no art To find the mind's construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. Enter MACBETH, BANQUO, ROSS, and ANGUS O worthiest cousin! The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me: thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. MACBETH The service and the loyalty I owe, In doing it, pays itself. Your highness' part Is to receive our duties; and our duties Are to your throne and state children and servants, Which do but what they should, by doing every thing Safe toward your love and honour. DUNCAN Welcome hither: I have begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no less deserved, nor must be known No less to have done so, let me enfold thee And hold thee to my heart. BANQUO There if I grow, The harvest is your own. DUNCAN My plenteous joys, Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves In drops of sorrow. Sons, kinsmen, thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know We will establish our estate upon Our eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafter The Prince of Cumberland; which honour must Not unaccompanied invest him only, But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shine On all deservers. From hence to Inverness, And bind us further to you. MACBETH The rest is labour, which is not used for you: I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful The hearing of my wife with your approach; So humbly take my leave. DUNCAN My worthy Cawdor! MACBETH [Aside] The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. Exit DUNCAN True, worthy Banquo; he is full so valiant, And in his commendations I am fed; It is a banquet to me. Let's after him, Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: It is a peerless kinsman. Flourish. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 5 Inverness. Macbeth's castle. Enter LADY MACBETH, reading a letter LADY MACBETH 'They met me in the day of success: and I have learned by the perfectest report, they have more in them than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desire to question them further, they made themselves air, into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came missives from the king, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title, before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referred me to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king that shalt be!' This have I thought good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thou mightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy heart, and farewell.' Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis, That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal. Enter a Messenger What is your tidings? Messenger The king comes here to-night. LADY MACBETH Thou'rt mad to say it: Is not thy master with him? who, were't so, Would have inform'd for preparation. Messenger So please you, it is true: our thane is coming: One of my fellows had the speed of him, Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Than would make up his message. LADY MACBETH Give him tending; He brings great news. Exit Messenger The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!' Enter MACBETH Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor! Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! Thy letters have transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feel now The future in the instant. MACBETH My dearest love, Duncan comes here to-night. LADY MACBETH And when goes hence? MACBETH To-morrow, as he purposes. LADY MACBETH O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't. He that's coming Must be provided for: and you shall put This night's great business into my dispatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. MACBETH We will speak further. LADY MACBETH Only look up clear; To alter favour ever is to fear: Leave all the rest to me. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 6 Before Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, BANQUO, LENNOX, MACDUFF, ROSS, ANGUS, and Attendants DUNCAN This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. BANQUO This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle: Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate. Enter LADY MACBETH DUNCAN See, see, our honour'd hostess! The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, Which still we thank as love. Herein I teach you How you shall bid God 'ild us for your pains, And thank us for your trouble. LADY MACBETH All our service In every point twice done and then done double Were poor and single business to contend Against those honours deep and broad wherewith Your majesty loads our house: for those of old, And the late dignities heap'd up to them, We rest your hermits. DUNCAN Where's the thane of Cawdor? We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose To be his purveyor: but he rides well; And his great love, sharp as his spur, hath holp him To his home before us. Fair and noble hostess, We are your guest to-night. LADY MACBETH Your servants ever Have theirs, themselves and what is theirs, in compt, To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, Still to return your own. DUNCAN Give me your hand; Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly, And shall continue our graces towards him. By your leave, hostess. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 7 Macbeth's castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter a Sewer, and divers Servants with dishes and service, and pass over the stage. Then enter MACBETH MACBETH If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other. Enter LADY MACBETH How now! what news? LADY MACBETH He has almost supp'd: why have you left the chamber? MACBETH Hath he ask'd for me? LADY MACBETH Know you not he has? MACBETH We will proceed no further in this business: He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon. LADY MACBETH Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage? MACBETH Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. LADY MACBETH What beast was't, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. MACBETH If we should fail? LADY MACBETH We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep-- Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey Soundly invite him--his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only: when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? MACBETH Bring forth men-children only; For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be received, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and used their very daggers, That they have done't? LADY MACBETH Who dares receive it other, As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death? MACBETH I am settled, and bend up Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 1 Court of Macbeth's castle. Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE bearing a torch before him BANQUO How goes the night, boy? FLEANCE The moon is down; I have not heard the clock. BANQUO And she goes down at twelve. FLEANCE I take't, 'tis later, sir. BANQUO Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out. Take thee that too. A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers, Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose! Enter MACBETH, and a Servant with a torch Give me my sword. Who's there? MACBETH A friend. BANQUO What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's a-bed: He hath been in unusual pleasure, and Sent forth great largess to your offices. This diamond he greets your wife withal, By the name of most kind hostess; and shut up In measureless content. MACBETH Being unprepared, Our will became the servant to defect; Which else should free have wrought. BANQUO All's well. I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters: To you they have show'd some truth. MACBETH I think not of them: Yet, when we can entreat an hour to serve, We would spend it in some words upon that business, If you would grant the time. BANQUO At your kind'st leisure. MACBETH If you shall cleave to my consent, when 'tis, It shall make honour for you. BANQUO So I lose none In seeking to augment it, but still keep My bosom franchised and allegiance clear, I shall be counsell'd. MACBETH Good repose the while! BANQUO Thanks, sir: the like to you! Exeunt BANQUO and FLEANCE MACBETH Go bid thy mistress, when my drink is ready, She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed. Exit Servant Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing: It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives: Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. A bell rings I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven or to hell. Exit Act 2, Scene 2 The same. Enter LADY MACBETH LADY MACBETH That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quench'd them hath given me fire. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it: The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd their possets, That death and nature do contend about them, Whether they live or die. MACBETH [Within] Who's there? what, ho! LADY MACBETH Alack, I am afraid they have awaked, And 'tis not done. The attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I had done't. Enter MACBETH My husband! MACBETH I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise? LADY MACBETH I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? MACBETH When? LADY MACBETH Now. MACBETH As I descended? LADY MACBETH Ay. MACBETH Hark! Who lies i' the second chamber? LADY MACBETH Donalbain. MACBETH This is a sorry sight. Looking on his hands LADY MACBETH A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. MACBETH There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried 'Murder!' That they did wake each other: I stood and heard them: But they did say their prayers, and address'd them Again to sleep. LADY MACBETH There are two lodged together. MACBETH One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen' the other; As they had seen me with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen,' When they did say 'God bless us!' LADY MACBETH Consider it not so deeply. MACBETH But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat. LADY MACBETH These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad. MACBETH Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep', the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast,-- LADY MACBETH What do you mean? MACBETH Still it cried 'Sleep no more!' to all the house: 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.' LADY MACBETH Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them; and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. MACBETH I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not. LADY MACBETH Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal; For it must seem their guilt. Exit. Knocking within MACBETH Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas in incarnadine, Making the green one red. Re-enter LADY MACBETH LADY MACBETH My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white. Knocking within I hear a knocking At the south entry: retire we to our chamber; A little water clears us of this deed: How easy is it, then! Your constancy Hath left you unattended. Knocking within Hark! more knocking. Get on your nightgown, lest occasion call us, And show us to be watchers. Be not lost So poorly in your thoughts. MACBETH To know my deed, 'twere best not know myself. Knocking within Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst! Exeunt Act 2, Scene 3 The same. Knocking within. Enter a Porter Porter Here's a knocking indeed! If a man were porter of hell-gate, he should have old turning the key. Knocking within Knock, knock, knock! Who's there, i' the name of Beelzebub? Here's a farmer, that hanged himself on the expectation of plenty: come in time; have napkins enow about you; here you'll sweat for't. Knocking within Knock, knock! Who's there, in the other devil's name? Faith, here's an equivocator, that could swear in both the scales against either scale; who committed treason enough for God's sake, yet could not equivocate to heaven: O, come in, equivocator. Knocking within Knock, knock, knock! Who's there? Faith, here's an English tailor come hither, for stealing out of a French hose: come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose. Knocking within Knock, knock; never at quiet! What are you? But this place is too cold for hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: I had thought to have let in some of all professions that go the primrose way to the everlasting bonfire. Knocking within Anon, anon! I pray you, remember the porter. Opens the gate Enter MACDUFF and LENNOX MACDUFF Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed, That you do lie so late? Porter 'Faith sir, we were carousing till the second cock: and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things. MACDUFF What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance: therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him. MACDUFF I believe drink gave thee the lie last night. Porter That it did, sir, i' the very throat on me: but I requited him for his lie; and, I think, being too strong for him, though he took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift to cast him. MACDUFF Is thy master stirring? Enter MACBETH Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes. LENNOX Good morrow, noble sir. MACBETH Good morrow, both. MACDUFF Is the king stirring, worthy thane? MACBETH Not yet. MACDUFF He did command me to call timely on him: I have almost slipp'd the hour. MACBETH I'll bring you to him. MACDUFF I know this is a joyful trouble to you; But yet 'tis one. MACBETH The labour we delight in physics pain. This is the door. MACDUFF I'll make so bold to call, For 'tis my limited service. Exit LENNOX Goes the king hence to-day? MACBETH He does: he did appoint so. LENNOX The night has been unruly: where we lay, Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say, Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death, And prophesying with accents terrible Of dire combustion and confused events New hatch'd to the woeful time: the obscure bird Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth Was feverous and did shake. MACBETH 'Twas a rough night. LENNOX My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it. Re-enter MACDUFF MACDUFF O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee! MACBETH | | What's the matter. LENNOX | MACDUFF Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence The life o' the building! MACBETH What is 't you say? the life? LENNOX Mean you his majesty? MACDUFF Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon: do not bid me speak; See, and then speak yourselves. Exeunt MACBETH and LENNOX Awake, awake! Ring the alarum-bell. Murder and treason! Banquo and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself! up, up, and see The great doom's image! Malcolm! Banquo! As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprites, To countenance this horror! Ring the bell. Bell rings Enter LADY MACBETH LADY MACBETH What's the business, That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the house? speak, speak! MACDUFF O gentle lady, 'Tis not for you to hear what I can speak: The repetition, in a woman's ear, Would murder as it fell. Enter BANQUO O Banquo, Banquo, Our royal master 's murder'd! LADY MACBETH Woe, alas! What, in our house? BANQUO Too cruel any where. Dear Duff, I prithee, contradict thyself, And say it is not so. Re-enter MACBETH and LENNOX, with ROSS MACBETH Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for, from this instant, There 's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. Enter MALCOLM and DONALBAIN DONALBAIN What is amiss? MACBETH You are, and do not know't: The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood Is stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd. MACDUFF Your royal father 's murder'd. MALCOLM O, by whom? LENNOX Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, had done 't: Their hands and faces were an badged with blood; So were their daggers, which unwiped we found Upon their pillows: They stared, and were distracted; no man's life Was to be trusted with them. MACBETH O, yet I do repent me of my fury, That I did kill them. MACDUFF Wherefore did you so? MACBETH Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man: The expedition my violent love Outrun the pauser, reason. Here lay Duncan, His silver skin laced with his golden blood; And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in nature For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their daggers Unmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refrain, That had a heart to love, and in that heart Courage to make 's love known? LADY MACBETH Help me hence, ho! MACDUFF Look to the lady. MALCOLM [Aside to DONALBAIN] Why do we hold our tongues, That most may claim this argument for ours? DONALBAIN [Aside to MALCOLM] What should be spoken here, where our fate, Hid in an auger-hole, may rush, and seize us? Let 's away; Our tears are not yet brew'd. MALCOLM [Aside to DONALBAIN] Nor our strong sorrow Upon the foot of motion. BANQUO Look to the lady: LADY MACBETH is carried out And when we have our naked frailties hid, That suffer in exposure, let us meet, And question this most bloody piece of work, To know it further. Fears and scruples shake us: In the great hand of God I stand; and thence Against the undivulged pretence I fight Of treasonous malice. MACDUFF And so do I. ALL So all. MACBETH Let's briefly put on manly readiness, And meet i' the hall together. ALL Well contented. Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.MALCOLM What will you do? Let's not consort with them: To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy. I'll to England.DONALBAIN To Ireland, I; our separated fortune Shall keep us both the safer: where we are, There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody.MALCOLM This murderous shaft that's shot Hath not yet lighted, and our safest way Is to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse; And let us not be dainty of leave-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that theft Which steals itself, when there's no mercy left. [Exeunt Act 2, Scene 4 Outside Macbeth's castle. Enter ROSS and an old Man Old Man Threescore and ten I can remember well: Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange; but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings. ROSS Ah, good father, Thou seest, the heavens, as troubled with man's act, Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day, And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp: Is't night's predominance, or the day's shame, That darkness does the face of earth entomb, When living light should kiss it? Old Man 'Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last, A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd. ROSS And Duncan's horses--a thing most strange and certain-- Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make War with mankind. Old Man 'Tis said they eat each other. ROSS They did so, to the amazement of mine eyes That look'd upon't. Here comes the good Macduff. Enter MACDUFF How goes the world, sir, now? MACDUFF Why, see you not? ROSS Is't known who did this more than bloody deed? MACDUFF Those that Macbeth hath slain. ROSS Alas, the day! What good could they pretend? MACDUFF They were suborn'd: Malcolm and Donalbain, the king's two sons, Are stol'n away and fled; which puts upon them Suspicion of the deed. ROSS 'Gainst nature still! Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means! Then 'tis most like The sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. MACDUFF He is already named, and gone to Scone To be invested. ROSS Where is Duncan's body? MACDUFF Carried to Colmekill, The sacred storehouse of his predecessors, And guardian of their bones. ROSS Will you to Scone? MACDUFF No, cousin, I'll to Fife. ROSS Well, I will thither. MACDUFF Well, may you see things well done there: adieu! Lest our old robes sit easier than our new! ROSS Farewell, father. Old Man God's benison go with you; and with those That would make good of bad, and friends of foes! Exeunt Act 3, Scene 1 Forres. The palace. Enter BANQUO BANQUO Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promised, and, I fear, Thou play'dst most foully for't: yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them-- As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine-- Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush! no more. Sennet sounded. Enter MACBETH, as king, LADY MACBETH, as queen, LENNOX, ROSS, Lords, Ladies, and Attendants MACBETH Here's our chief guest. LADY MACBETH If he had been forgotten, It had been as a gap in our great feast, And all-thing unbecoming. MACBETH To-night we hold a solemn supper sir, And I'll request your presence. BANQUO Let your highness Command upon me; to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tie For ever knit. MACBETH Ride you this afternoon? BANQUO Ay, my good lord. MACBETH We should have else desired your good advice, Which still hath been both grave and prosperous, In this day's council; but we'll take to-morrow. Is't far you ride? BANQUO As far, my lord, as will fill up the time 'Twixt this and supper: go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the night For a dark hour or twain. MACBETH Fail not our feast. BANQUO My lord, I will not. MACBETH We hear, our bloody cousins are bestow'd In England and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruel parricide, filling their hearers With strange invention: but of that to-morrow, When therewithal we shall have cause of state Craving us jointly. Hie you to horse: adieu, Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with you? BANQUO Ay, my good lord: our time does call upon 's. MACBETH I wish your horses swift and sure of foot; And so I do commend you to their backs. Farewell. Exit BANQUO Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night: to make society The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself Till supper-time alone: while then, God be with you! Exeunt all but MACBETH, and an attendant Sirrah, a word with you: attend those men Our pleasure? ATTENDANT They are, my lord, without the palace gate. MACBETH Bring them before us. Exit Attendant To be thus is nothing; But to be safely thus.--Our fears in Banquo Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares; And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour To act in safety. There is none but he Whose being I do fear: and, under him, My Genius is rebuked; as, it is said, Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters When first they put the name of king upon me, And bade them speak to him: then prophet-like They hail'd him father to a line of kings: Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so, For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind; For them the gracious Duncan have I murder'd; Put rancours in the vessel of my peace Only for them; and mine eternal jewel Given to the common enemy of man, To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! Rather than so, come fate into the list. And champion me to the utterance! Who's there! Re-enter Attendant, with two Murderers Now go to the door, and stay there till we call. Exit Attendant Was it not yesterday we spoke together? First Murderer It was, so please your highness. MACBETH Well then, now Have you consider'd of my speeches? Know That it was he in the times past which held you So under fortune, which you thought had been Our innocent self: this I made good to you In our last conference, pass'd in probation with you, How you were borne in hand, how cross'd, the instruments, Who wrought with them, and all things else that might To half a soul and to a notion crazed Say 'Thus did Banquo.' First Murderer You made it known to us. MACBETH I did so, and went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Do you find Your patience so predominant in your nature That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd To pray for this good man and for his issue, Whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave And beggar'd yours for ever? First Murderer We are men, my liege. MACBETH Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men; As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs and demi-wolves, are clept All by the name of dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive Particular addition. from the bill That writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you have a station in the file, Not i' the worst rank of manhood, say 't; And I will put that business in your bosoms, Whose execution takes your enemy off, Grapples you to the heart and love of us, Who wear our health but sickly in his life, Which in his death were perfect. Second Murderer I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world. First Murderer And I another So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my lie on any chance, To mend it, or be rid on't. MACBETH Both of you Know Banquo was your enemy. Both Murderers True, my lord. MACBETH So is he mine; and in such bloody distance, That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near'st of life: and though I could With barefaced power sweep him from my sight And bid my will avouch it, yet I must not, For certain friends that are both his and mine, Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall Who I myself struck down; and thence it is, That I to your assistance do make love, Masking the business from the common eye For sundry weighty reasons. Second Murderer We shall, my lord, Perform what you command us. First Murderer Though our lives-- MACBETH Your spirits shine through you. Within this hour at most I will advise you where to plant yourselves; Acquaint you with the perfect spy o' the time, The moment on't; for't must be done to-night, And something from the palace; always thought That I require a clearness: and with him-- To leave no rubs nor botches in the work-- Fleance his son, that keeps him company, Whose absence is no less material to me Than is his father's, must embrace the fate Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart: I'll come to you anon. Both Murderers We are resolved, my lord. MACBETH I'll call upon you straight: abide within. Exeunt Murderers It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. Exit Act 3, Scene 2 The palace. Enter LADY MACBETH and a Servant LADY MACBETH Is Banquo gone from court? Servant Ay, madam, but returns again to-night. LADY MACBETH Say to the king, I would attend his leisure For a few words. Servant Madam, I will. Exit LADY MACBETH Nought's had, all's spent, Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. Enter MACBETH How now, my lord! why do you keep alone, Of sorriest fancies your companions making, Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on? Things without all remedy Should be without regard: what's done is done. MACBETH We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it: She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly: better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further. LADY MACBETH Come on; Gentle my lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks; Be bright and jovial among your guests to-night. MACBETH So shall I, love; and so, I pray, be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are. LADY MACBETH You must leave this. MACBETH O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. LADY MACBETH But in them nature's copy's not eterne. MACBETH There's comfort yet; they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. LADY MACBETH What's to be done? MACBETH Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale! Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood: Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; While night's black agents to their preys do rouse. Thou marvell'st at my words: but hold thee still; Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill. So, prithee, go with me. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 3 A park near the palace. Enter three Murderers First Murderer But who did bid thee join with us? Third Murderer Macbeth. Second Murderer He needs not our mistrust, since he delivers Our offices and what we have to do To the direction just. First Murderer Then stand with us. The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day: Now spurs the lated traveller apace To gain the timely inn; and near approaches The subject of our watch. Third Murderer Hark! I hear horses. BANQUO [Within] Give us a light there, ho! Second Murderer Then 'tis he: the rest That are within the note of expectation Already are i' the court. First Murderer His horses go about. Third Murderer Almost a mile: but he does usually, So all men do, from hence to the palace gate Make it their walk. Second Murderer A light, a light! Enter BANQUO, and FLEANCE with a torch Third Murderer 'Tis he. First Murderer Stand to't. BANQUO It will be rain to-night. First Murderer Let it come down. They set upon BANQUO BANQUO O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! Thou mayst revenge. O slave! Dies. FLEANCE escapes Third Murderer Who did strike out the light? First Murderer Wast not the way? Third Murderer There's but one down; the son is fled. Second Murderer We have lost Best half of our affair. First Murderer Well, let's away, and say how much is done. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 4 The same. Hall in the palace. A banquet prepared. Enter MACBETH, LADY MACBETH, ROSS, LENNOX, Lords, and Attendants MACBETH You know your own degrees; sit down: at first And last the hearty welcome. Lords Thanks to your majesty. MACBETH Ourself will mingle with society, And play the humble host. Our hostess keeps her state, but in best time We will require her welcome. LADY MACBETH Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome. First Murderer appears at the door MACBETH See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks. Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst: Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure The table round. Approaching the door There's blood on thy face. First Murderer 'Tis Banquo's then. MACBETH 'Tis better thee without than he within. Is he dispatch'd? First Murderer My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him. MACBETH Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it, Thou art the nonpareil. First Murderer Most royal sir, Fleance is 'scaped. MACBETH Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect, Whole as the marble, founded as the rock, As broad and general as the casing air: But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's safe? First Murderer Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a death to nature. MACBETH Thanks for that: There the grown serpent lies; the worm that's fled Hath nature that in time will venom breed, No teeth for the present. Get thee gone: to-morrow We'll hear, ourselves, again. Exit Murderer LADY MACBETH My royal lord, You do not give the cheer: the feast is sold That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a-making, 'Tis given with welcome: to feed were best at home; From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; Meeting were bare without it. MACBETH Sweet remembrancer! Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! LENNOX May't please your highness sit. The GHOST OF BANQUO enters, and sits in MACBETH's place MACBETH Here had we now our country's honour roof'd, Were the graced person of our Banquo present; Who may I rather challenge for unkindness Than pity for mischance! ROSS His absence, sir, Lays blame upon his promise. Please't your highness To grace us with your royal company. MACBETH The table's full. LENNOX Here is a place reserved, sir. MACBETH Where? LENNOX Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your highness? MACBETH Which of you have done this? Lords What, my good lord? MACBETH Thou canst not say I did it: never shake Thy gory locks at me. ROSS Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well. LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; The fit is momentary; upon a thought He will again be well: if much you note him, You shall offend him and extend his passion: Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil. LADY MACBETH O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts, Impostors to true fear, would well become A woman's story at a winter's fire, Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? When all's done, You look but on a stool. MACBETH Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo! how say you? Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. If charnel-houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back, our monuments Shall be the maws of kites. GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes LADY MACBETH What, quite unmann'd in folly? MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him. LADY MACBETH Fie, for shame! MACBETH Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, Ere human statute purged the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools: this is more strange Than such a murder is. LADY MACBETH My worthy lord, Your noble friends do lack you. MACBETH I do forget. Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends, I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, love and health to all; Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full. I drink to the general joy o' the whole table, And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst, And all to all. Lords Our duties, and the pledge. Re-enter GHOST OF BANQUO MACBETH Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with! LADY MACBETH Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other; Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. MACBETH What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble: or be alive again, And dare me to the desert with thy sword; If trembling I inhabit then, protest me The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence! GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes Why, so: being gone, I am a man again. Pray you, sit still. LADY MACBETH You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting, With most admired disorder. MACBETH Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanched with fear. ROSS What sights, my lord? LADY MACBETH I pray you, speak not; he grows worse and worse; Question enrages him. At once, good night: Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once. LENNOX Good night; and better health Attend his majesty! LADY MACBETH A kind good night to all! Exeunt all but MACBETH and LADY MACBETH MACBETH It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; Augurs and understood relations have By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood. What is the night? LADY MACBETH Almost at odds with morning, which is which. MACBETH How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding? LADY MACBETH Did you send to him, sir? MACBETH I hear it by the way; but I will send: There's not a one of them but in his house I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-morrow, And betimes I will, to the weird sisters: More shall they speak; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way: I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er: Strange things I have in head, that will to hand; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd. LADY MACBETH You lack the season of all natures, sleep. MACBETH Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse Is the initiate fear that wants hard use: We are yet but young in deed. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 5 A Heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting HECATE First Witch Why, how now, Hecate! you look angerly. HECATE Have I not reason, beldams as you are, Saucy and overbold? How did you dare To trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death; And I, the mistress of your charms, The close contriver of all harms, Was never call'd to bear my part, Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have done Hath been but for a wayward son, Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do, Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now: get you gone, And at the pit of Acheron Meet me i' the morning: thither he Will come to know his destiny: Your vessels and your spells provide, Your charms and every thing beside. I am for the air; this night I'll spend Unto a dismal and a fatal end: Great business must be wrought ere noon: Upon the corner of the moon There hangs a vaporous drop profound; I'll catch it ere it come to ground: And that distill'd by magic sleights Shall raise such artificial sprites As by the strength of their illusion Shall draw him on to his confusion: He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear He hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy. Music and a song within: 'Come away, come away,' &c Hark! I am call'd; my little spirit, see, Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. Exit First Witch Come, let's make haste; she'll soon be back again. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 6 Forres. The palace. Enter LENNOX and another Lord LENNOX My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret further: only, I say, Things have been strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead: And the right-valiant Banquo walk'd too late; Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, For Fleance fled: men must not walk too late. Who cannot want the thought how monstrous It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain To kill their gracious father? damned fact! How it did grieve Macbeth! did he not straight In pious rage the two delinquents tear, That were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep? Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too; For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive To hear the men deny't. So that, I say, He has borne all things well: and I do think That had he Duncan's sons under his key-- As, an't please heaven, he shall not--they should find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. But, peace! for from broad words and 'cause he fail'd His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear Macduff lives in disgrace: sir, can you tell Where he bestows himself? Lord The son of Duncan, From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth Lives in the English court, and is received Of the most pious Edward with such grace That the malevolence of fortune nothing Takes from his high respect: thither Macduff Is gone to pray the holy king, upon his aid To wake Northumberland and warlike Siward: That, by the help of these--with Him above To ratify the work--we may again Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights, Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives, Do faithful homage and receive free honours: All which we pine for now: and this report Hath so exasperate the king that he Prepares for some attempt of war. LENNOX Sent he to Macduff? Lord He did: and with an absolute 'Sir, not I,' The cloudy messenger turns me his back, And hums, as who should say 'You'll rue the time That clogs me with this answer.' LENNOX And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. Some holy angel Fly to the court of England and unfold His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country Under a hand accursed! Lord I'll send my prayers with him. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 1 A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder. Enter the three Witches First Witch Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd. Second Witch Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Third Witch Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time. First Witch Round about the cauldron go; In the poison'd entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter'd venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i' the charmed pot. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Second Witch Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Third Witch Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches' mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Silver'd in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger's chaudron, For the ingredients of our cauldron. ALL Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Second Witch Cool it with a baboon's blood, Then the charm is firm and good. Enter HECATE to the other three Witches HECATE O well done! I commend your pains; And every one shall share i' the gains; And now about the cauldron sing, Live elves and fairies in a ring, Enchanting all that you put in. Music and a song: 'Black spirits,' &c HECATE retires Second Witch By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks! Enter MACBETH MACBETH How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags! What is't you do? ALL A deed without a name. MACBETH I conjure you, by that which you profess, Howe'er you come to know it, answer me: Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warders' heads; Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure Of nature's germens tumble all together, Even till destruction sicken; answer me To what I ask you. First Witch Speak. Second Witch Demand. Third Witch We'll answer. First Witch Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from our mouths, Or from our masters? MACBETH Call 'em; let me see 'em. First Witch Pour in sow's blood, that hath eaten Her nine farrow; grease that's sweaten From the murderer's gibbet throw Into the flame. ALL Come, high or low; Thyself and office deftly show! Thunder. First Apparition: an armed Head MACBETH Tell me, thou unknown power,-- First Witch He knows thy thought: Hear his speech, but say thou nought. First Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware Macduff; Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. Descends MACBETH Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks; Thou hast harp'd my fear aright: but one word more,-- First Witch He will not be commanded: here's another, More potent than the first. Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child Second Apparition Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! MACBETH Had I three ears, I'ld hear thee. Second Apparition Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. Descends MACBETH Then live, Macduff: what need I fear of thee? But yet I'll make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live; That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, And sleep in spite of thunder. Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand What is this That rises like the issue of a king, And wears upon his baby-brow the round And top of sovereignty? ALL Listen, but speak not to't. Third Apparition Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him. Descends MACBETH That will never be Who can impress the forest, bid the tree Unfix his earth-bound root? Sweet bodements! good! Rebellion's head, rise never till the wood Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart Throbs to know one thing: tell me, if your art Can tell so much: shall Banquo's issue ever Reign in this kingdom? ALL Seek to know no more. MACBETH I will be satisfied: deny me this, And an eternal curse fall on you! Let me know. Why sinks that cauldron? and what noise is this? Hautboys First Witch Show! Second Witch Show! Third Witch Show! ALL Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart! A show of Eight Kings, the last with a glass in his hand; GHOST OF BANQUO following MACBETH Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo: down! Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former. Filthy hags! Why do you show me this? A fourth! Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Another yet! A seventh! I'll see no more: And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass Which shows me many more; and some I see That two-fold balls and treble scepters carry: Horrible sight! Now, I see, 'tis true; For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, And points at them for his. Apparitions vanish What, is this so? First Witch Ay, sir, all this is so: but why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites, And show the best of our delights: I'll charm the air to give a sound, While you perform your antic round: That this great king may kindly say, Our duties did his welcome pay. Music. The witches dance and then vanish, with HECATE MACBETH Where are they? Gone? Let this pernicious hour Stand aye accursed in the calendar! Come in, without there! Enter LENNOX LENNOX What's your grace's will? MACBETH Saw you the weird sisters? LENNOX No, my lord. MACBETH Came they not by you? LENNOX No, indeed, my lord. MACBETH Infected be the air whereon they ride; And damn'd all those that trust them! I did hear The galloping of horse: who was't came by? LENNOX 'Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word Macduff is fled to England. MACBETH Fled to England! LENNOX Ay, my good lord. MACBETH Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits: The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Unless the deed go with it; from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done: The castle of Macduff I will surprise; Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; This deed I'll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!--Where are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 2 Fife. Macduff's castle. Enter LADY MACDUFF, her Son, and ROSS LADY MACDUFF What had he done, to make him fly the land? ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors. ROSS You know not Whether it was his wisdom or his fear. LADY MACDUFF Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes, His mansion and his titles in a place From whence himself does fly? He loves us not; He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren, The most diminutive of birds, will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear and nothing is the love; As little is the wisdom, where the flight So runs against all reason. ROSS My dearest coz, I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband, He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knows The fits o' the season. I dare not speak much further; But cruel are the times, when we are traitors And do not know ourselves, when we hold rumour From what we fear, yet know not what we fear, But float upon a wild and violent sea Each way and move. I take my leave of you: Shall not be long but I'll be here again: Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upward To what they were before. My pretty cousin, Blessing upon you! LADY MACDUFF Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. ROSS I am so much a fool, should I stay longer, It would be my disgrace and your discomfort: I take my leave at once. Exit LADY MACDUFF Sirrah, your father's dead; And what will you do now? How will you live? Son As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF What, with worms and flies? Son With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF Poor bird! thou'ldst never fear the net nor lime, The pitfall nor the gin. Son Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. My father is not dead, for all your saying. LADY MACDUFF Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou do for a father? Son Nay, how will you do for a husband? LADY MACDUFF Why, I can buy me twenty at any market. Son Then you'll buy 'em to sell again. LADY MACDUFF Thou speak'st with all thy wit: and yet, i' faith, With wit enough for thee. Son Was my father a traitor, mother? LADY MACDUFF Ay, that he was. Son What is a traitor? LADY MACDUFF Why, one that swears and lies. Son And be all traitors that do so? LADY MACDUFF Every one that does so is a traitor, and must be hanged. Son And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? LADY MACDUFF Every one. Son Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men. Son Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enow to beat the honest men and hang up them. LADY MACDUFF Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? Son If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it were a good sign that I should quickly have a new father. LADY MACDUFF Poor prattler, how thou talk'st! Enter a Messenger Messenger Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known, Though in your state of honour I am perfect. I doubt some danger does approach you nearly: If you will take a homely man's advice, Be not found here; hence, with your little ones. To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage; To do worse to you were fell cruelty, Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you! I dare abide no longer. Exit LADY MACDUFF Whither should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly: why then, alas, Do I put up that womanly defence, To say I have done no harm? Enter Murderers What are these faces? First Murderer Where is your husband? LADY MACDUFF I hope, in no place so unsanctified Where such as thou mayst find him. First Murderer He's a traitor. Son Thou liest, thou shag-hair'd villain! First Murderer What, you egg! Stabbing him Young fry of treachery! Son He has kill'd me, mother: Run away, I pray you! Dies Exit LADY MACDUFF, crying 'Murder!' Exeunt Murderers, following her Act 4, Scene 3 England. Before the King's palace. Enter MALCOLM and MACDUFF MALCOLM Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there Weep our sad bosoms empty. MACDUFF Let us rather Hold fast the mortal sword, and like good men Bestride our down-fall'n birthdom: each new morn New widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland and yell'd out Like syllable of dolour. MALCOLM What I believe I'll wail, What know believe, and what I can redress, As I shall find the time to friend, I will. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you have loved him well. He hath not touch'd you yet. I am young; but something You may deserve of him through me, and wisdom To offer up a weak poor innocent lamb To appease an angry god. MACDUFF I am not treacherous. MALCOLM But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. MACDUFF I have lost my hopes. MALCOLM Perchance even there where I did find my doubts. Why in that rawness left you wife and child, Those precious motives, those strong knots of love, Without leave-taking? I pray you, Let not my jealousies be your dishonours, But mine own safeties. You may be rightly just, Whatever I shall think. MACDUFF Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure, For goodness dare not cheque thee: wear thou thy wrongs; The title is affeer'd! Fare thee well, lord: I would not be the villain that thou think'st For the whole space that's in the tyrant's grasp, And the rich East to boot. MALCOLM Be not offended: I speak not as in absolute fear of you. I think our country sinks beneath the yoke; It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds: I think withal There would be hands uplifted in my right; And here from gracious England have I offer Of goodly thousands: but, for all this, When I shall tread upon the tyrant's head, Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country Shall have more vices than it had before, More suffer and more sundry ways than ever, By him that shall succeed. MACDUFF What should he be? MALCOLM It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be open'd, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms. MACDUFF Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damn'd In evils to top Macbeth. MALCOLM I grant him bloody, Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful, Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sin That has a name: but there's no bottom, none, In my voluptuousness: your wives, your daughters, Your matrons and your maids, could not fill up The cistern of my lust, and my desire All continent impediments would o'erbear That did oppose my will: better Macbeth Than such an one to reign. MACDUFF Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny; it hath been The untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings. But fear not yet To take upon you what is yours: you may Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seem cold, the time you may so hoodwink. We have willing dames enough: there cannot be That vulture in you, to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclined. MALCOLM With this there grows In my most ill-composed affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels and this other's house: And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more; that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth. MACDUFF This avarice Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been The sword of our slain kings: yet do not fear; Scotland hath foisons to fill up your will. Of your mere own: all these are portable, With other graces weigh'd. MALCOLM But I have none: the king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth. MACDUFF O Scotland, Scotland! MALCOLM If such a one be fit to govern, speak: I am as I have spoken. MACDUFF Fit to govern! No, not to live. O nation miserable, With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again, Since that the truest issue of thy throne By his own interdiction stands accursed, And does blaspheme his breed? Thy royal father Was a most sainted king: the queen that bore thee, Oftener upon her knees than on her feet, Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! These evils thou repeat'st upon thyself Have banish'd me from Scotland. O my breast, Thy hope ends here! MALCOLM Macduff, this noble passion, Child of integrity, hath from my soul Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my thoughts To thy good truth and honour. Devilish Macbeth By many of these trains hath sought to win me Into his power, and modest wisdom plucks me From over-credulous haste: but God above Deal between thee and me! for even now I put myself to thy direction, and Unspeak mine own detraction, here abjure The taints and blames I laid upon myself, For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray The devil to his fellow and delight No less in truth than life: my first false speaking Was this upon myself: what I am truly, Is thine and my poor country's to command: Whither indeed, before thy here-approach, Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men, Already at a point, was setting forth. Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent? MACDUFF Such welcome and unwelcome things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor MALCOLM Well; more anon.--Comes the king forth, I pray you? Doctor Ay, sir; there are a crew of wretched souls That stay his cure: their malady convinces The great assay of art; but at his touch-- Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand-- They presently amend. MALCOLM I thank you, doctor. Exit Doctor MACDUFF What's the disease he means? MALCOLM 'Tis call'd the evil: A most miraculous work in this good king; Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven, Himself best knows: but strangely-visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction. With this strange virtue, He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy, And sundry blessings hang about his throne, That speak him full of grace. Enter ROSS MACDUFF See, who comes here? MALCOLM My countryman; but yet I know him not. MACDUFF My ever-gentle cousin, welcome hither. MALCOLM I know him now. Good God, betimes remove The means that makes us strangers! ROSS Sir, amen. MACDUFF Stands Scotland where it did? ROSS Alas, poor country! Almost afraid to know itself. It cannot Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing, But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; Where sighs and groans and shrieks that rend the air Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstasy; the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd for who; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps, Dying or ere they sicken. MACDUFF O, relation Too nice, and yet too true! MALCOLM What's the newest grief? ROSS That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker: Each minute teems a new one. MACDUFF How does my wife? ROSS Why, well. MACDUFF And all my children? ROSS Well too. MACDUFF The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? ROSS No; they were well at peace when I did leave 'em. MACDUFF But not a niggard of your speech: how goes't? ROSS When I came hither to transport the tidings, Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumour Of many worthy fellows that were out; Which was to my belief witness'd the rather, For that I saw the tyrant's power a-foot: Now is the time of help; your eye in Scotland Would create soldiers, make our women fight, To doff their dire distresses. MALCOLM Be't their comfort We are coming thither: gracious England hath Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men; An older and a better soldier none That Christendom gives out. ROSS Would I could answer This comfort with the like! But I have words That would be howl'd out in the desert air, Where hearing should not latch them. MACDUFF What concern they? The general cause? or is it a fee-grief Due to some single breast? ROSS No mind that's honest But in it shares some woe; though the main part Pertains to you alone. MACDUFF If it be mine, Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. ROSS Let not your ears despise my tongue for ever, Which shall possess them with the heaviest sound That ever yet they heard. MACDUFF Hum! I guess at it. ROSS Your castle is surprised; your wife and babes Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To add the death of you. MALCOLM Merciful heaven! What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break. MACDUFF My children too? ROSS Wife, children, servants, all That could be found. MACDUFF And I must be from thence! My wife kill'd too? ROSS I have said. MALCOLM Be comforted: Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. MACDUFF He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? MALCOLM Dispute it like a man. MACDUFF I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. Did heaven look on, And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls. Heaven rest them now! MALCOLM Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. MACDUFF O, I could play the woman with mine eyes And braggart with my tongue! But, gentle heavens, Cut short all intermission; front to front Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Heaven forgive him too! MALCOLM This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the king; our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave; Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may: The night is long that never finds the day. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 1 Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman Doctor I have two nights watched with you, but can perceive no truth in your report. When was it she last walked? Gentlewoman Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep. Doctor A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching! In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? Gentlewoman That, sir, which I will not report after her. Doctor You may to me: and 'tis most meet you should. Gentlewoman Neither to you nor any one; having no witness to confirm my speech. Enter LADY MACBETH, with a taper Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; stand close. Doctor How came she by that light? Gentlewoman Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doctor You see, her eyes are open. Gentlewoman Ay, but their sense is shut. Doctor What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gentlewoman It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. LADY MACBETH Yet here's a spot. Doctor Hark! she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. LADY MACBETH Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why, then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him. Doctor Do you mark that? LADY MACBETH The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?-- What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting. Doctor Go to, go to; you have known what you should not. Gentlewoman She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: heaven knows what she has known. LADY MACBETH Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! Doctor What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. Gentlewoman I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body. Doctor Well, well, well,-- Gentlewoman Pray God it be, sir. Doctor This disease is beyond my practise: yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in their beds. LADY MACBETH Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's grave. Doctor Even so? LADY MACBETH To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed! Exit Doctor Will she go now to bed? Gentlewoman Directly. Doctor Foul whisperings are abroad: unnatural deeds Do breed unnatural troubles: infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets: More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all! Look after her; Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night: My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think, but dare not speak. Gentlewoman Good night, good doctor. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 2 The country near Dunsinane. Drum and colours. Enter MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, and Soldiers MENTEITH The English power is near, led on by Malcolm, His uncle Siward and the good Macduff: Revenges burn in them; for their dear causes Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Excite the mortified man. ANGUS Near Birnam wood Shall we well meet them; that way are they coming. CAITHNESS Who knows if Donalbain be with his brother? LENNOX For certain, sir, he is not: I have a file Of all the gentry: there is Siward's son, And many unrough youths that even now Protest their first of manhood. MENTEITH What does the tyrant? CAITHNESS Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifies: Some say he's mad; others that lesser hate him Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule. ANGUS Now does he feel His secret murders sticking on his hands; Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love: now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe Upon a dwarfish thief. MENTEITH Who then shall blame His pester'd senses to recoil and start, When all that is within him does condemn Itself for being there? CAITHNESS Well, march we on, To give obedience where 'tis truly owed: Meet we the medicine of the sickly weal, And with him pour we in our country's purge Each drop of us. LENNOX Or so much as it needs, To dew the sovereign flower and drown the weeds. Make we our march towards Birnam. Exeunt, marching Act 5, Scene 3 Dunsinane. A room in the castle. Enter MACBETH, Doctor, and Attendants MACBETH Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy Malcolm? Was he not born of woman? The spirits that know All mortal consequences have pronounced me thus: 'Fear not, Macbeth; no man that's born of woman Shall e'er have power upon thee.' Then fly, false thanes, And mingle with the English epicures: The mind I sway by and the heart I bear Shall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. Enter a Servant The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! Where got'st thou that goose look? Servant There is ten thousand-- MACBETH Geese, villain! Servant Soldiers, sir. MACBETH Go prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! those linen cheeks of thine Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? Servant The English force, so please you. MACBETH Take thy face hence. Exit Servant Seyton!--I am sick at heart, When I behold--Seyton, I say!--This push Will cheer me ever, or disseat me now. I have lived long enough: my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not. Seyton! Enter SEYTON SEYTON What is your gracious pleasure? MACBETH What news more? SEYTON All is confirm'd, my lord, which was reported. MACBETH I'll fight till from my bones my flesh be hack'd. Give me my armour. SEYTON 'Tis not needed yet. MACBETH I'll put it on. Send out more horses; skirr the country round; Hang those that talk of fear. Give me mine armour. How does your patient, doctor? Doctor Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick coming fancies, That keep her from her rest. MACBETH Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? Doctor Therein the patient Must minister to himself. MACBETH Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it. Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me. Come, sir, dispatch. If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.--Pull't off, I say.-- What rhubarb, cyme, or what purgative drug, Would scour these English hence? Hear'st thou of them? Doctor Ay, my good lord; your royal preparation Makes us hear something. MACBETH Bring it after me. I will not be afraid of death and bane, Till Birnam forest come to Dunsinane. Doctor [Aside] Were I from Dunsinane away and clear, Profit again should hardly draw me here. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 4 Country near Birnam wood. Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD and YOUNG SIWARD, MACDUFF, MENTEITH, CAITHNESS, ANGUS, LENNOX, ROSS, and Soldiers, marching MALCOLM Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand That chambers will be safe. MENTEITH We doubt it nothing. SIWARD What wood is this before us? MENTEITH The wood of Birnam. MALCOLM Let every soldier hew him down a bough And bear't before him: thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our host and make discovery Err in report of us. Soldiers It shall be done. SIWARD We learn no other but the confident tyrant Keeps still in Dunsinane, and will endure Our setting down before 't. MALCOLM 'Tis his main hope: For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things Whose hearts are absent too. MACDUFF Let our just censures Attend the true event, and put we on Industrious soldiership. SIWARD The time approaches That will with due decision make us know What we shall say we have and what we owe. Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate, But certain issue strokes must arbitrate: Towards which advance the war. Exeunt, marching Act 5, Scene 5 Dunsinane. Within the castle. Enter MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers, with drum and colours MACBETH Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up: Were they not forced with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home. A cry of women within What is that noise? SEYTON It is the cry of women, my good lord. Exit MACBETH I have almost forgot the taste of fears; The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me. Re-enter SEYTON Wherefore was that cry? SEYTON The queen, my lord, is dead. MACBETH She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. Messenger Gracious my lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to do it. MACBETH Well, say, sir. Messenger As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought, The wood began to move. MACBETH Liar and slave! Messenger Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three mile may you see it coming; I say, a moving grove. MACBETH If thou speak'st false, Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive, Till famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in resolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 6 Dunsinane. Before the castle. Drum and colours. Enter MALCOLM, SIWARD, MACDUFF, and their Army, with boughs MALCOLM Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down. And show like those you are. You, worthy uncle, Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son, Lead our first battle: worthy Macduff and we Shall take upon 's what else remains to do, According to our order. SIWARD Fare you well. Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. MACDUFF Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 7 Another part of the field. Alarums. Enter MACBETH MACBETH They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course. What's he That was not born of woman? Such a one Am I to fear, or none. Enter YOUNG SIWARD YOUNG SIWARD What is thy name? MACBETH Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. YOUNG SIWARD No; though thou call'st thyself a hotter name Than any is in hell. MACBETH My name's Macbeth. YOUNG SIWARD The devil himself could not pronounce a title More hateful to mine ear. MACBETH No, nor more fearful. YOUNG SIWARD Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with my sword I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. They fight and YOUNG SIWARD is slain MACBETH Thou wast born of woman But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, Brandish'd by man that's of a woman born. Exit Alarums. Enter MACDUFF MACDUFF That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face! If thou be'st slain and with no stroke of mine, My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still. I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves: either thou, Macbeth, Or else my sword with an unbatter'd edge I sheathe again undeeded. There thou shouldst be; By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seems bruited. Let me find him, fortune! And more I beg not. Exit. Alarums Enter MALCOLM and SIWARD SIWARD This way, my lord; the castle's gently render'd: The tyrant's people on both sides do fight; The noble thanes do bravely in the war; The day almost itself professes yours, And little is to do. MALCOLM We have met with foes That strike beside us. SIWARD Enter, sir, the castle. Exeunt. Alarums Act 5, Scene 8 Another part of the field. Enter MACBETH MACBETH Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the gashes Do better upon them. Enter MACDUFF MACDUFF Turn, hell-hound, turn! MACBETH Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. MACDUFF I have no words: My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out! They fight MACBETH Thou losest labour: As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life, which must not yield, To one of woman born. MACDUFF Despair thy charm; And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd. MACBETH Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believed, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. MACDUFF Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o' the time: We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted on a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.' MACBETH I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, And to be baited with the rabble's curse. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou opposed, being of no woman born, Yet I will try the last. Before my body I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!' Exeunt, fighting. Alarums Retreat. Flourish. Enter, with drum and colours, MALCOLM, SIWARD, ROSS, the other Thanes, and Soldiers MALCOLM I would the friends we miss were safe arrived. SIWARD Some must go off: and yet, by these I see, So great a day as this is cheaply bought. MALCOLM Macduff is missing, and your noble son. ROSS Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: He only lived but till he was a man; The which no sooner had his prowess confirm'd In the unshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he died. SIWARD Then he is dead? ROSS Ay, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measured by his worth, for then It hath no end. SIWARD Had he his hurts before? ROSS Ay, on the front. SIWARD Why then, God's soldier be he! Had I as many sons as I have hairs, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so, his knell is knoll'd. MALCOLM He's worth more sorrow, And that I'll spend for him. SIWARD He's worth no more They say he parted well, and paid his score: And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort. Re-enter MACDUFF, with MACBETH's head MACDUFF Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands The usurper's cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl, That speak my salutation in their minds; Whose voices I desire aloud with mine: Hail, King of Scotland! ALL Hail, King of Scotland! Flourish MALCOLM We shall not spend a large expense of time Before we reckon with your several loves, And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen, Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland In such an honour named. What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exiled friends abroad That fled the snares of watchful tyranny; Producing forth the cruel ministers Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen, Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands Took off her life; this, and what needful else That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace, We will perform in measure, time and place: So, thanks to all at once and to each one, Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. Flourish. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 1 Athens. The palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, and Attendants THESEUS Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour Draws on apace; four happy days bring in Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a step-dame or a dowager Long withering out a young man revenue. HIPPOLYTA Four days will quickly steep themselves in night; Four nights will quickly dream away the time; And then the moon, like to a silver bow New-bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities. THESEUS Go, Philostrate, Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments; Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth; Turn melancholy forth to funerals; The pale companion is not for our pomp. Exit PHILOSTRATE Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, And won thy love, doing thee injuries; But I will wed thee in another key, With pomp, with triumph and with revelling. Enter EGEUS, HERMIA, LYSANDER, and DEMETRIUS EGEUS Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! THESEUS Thanks, good Egeus: what's the news with thee? EGEUS Full of vexation come I, with complaint Against my child, my daughter Hermia. Stand forth, Demetrius. My noble lord, This man hath my consent to marry her. Stand forth, Lysander: and my gracious duke, This man hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child; Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her rhymes, And interchanged love-tokens with my child: Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung, With feigning voice verses of feigning love, And stolen the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats, messengers Of strong prevailment in unharden'd youth: With cunning hast thou filch'd my daughter's heart, Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me, To stubborn harshness: and, my gracious duke, Be it so she; will not here before your grace Consent to marry with Demetrius, I beg the ancient privilege of Athens, As she is mine, I may dispose of her: Which shall be either to this gentleman Or to her death, according to our law Immediately provided in that case. THESEUS What say you, Hermia? be advised fair maid: To you your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax By him imprinted and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it. Demetrius is a worthy gentleman. HERMIA So is Lysander. THESEUS In himself he is; But in this kind, wanting your father's voice, The other must be held the worthier. HERMIA I would my father look'd but with my eyes. THESEUS Rather your eyes must with his judgment look. HERMIA I do entreat your grace to pardon me. I know not by what power I am made bold, Nor how it may concern my modesty, In such a presence here to plead my thoughts; But I beseech your grace that I may know The worst that may befall me in this case, If I refuse to wed Demetrius. THESEUS Either to die the death or to abjure For ever the society of men. Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires; Know of your youth, examine well your blood, Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice, You can endure the livery of a nun, For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd, To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood, To undergo such maiden pilgrimage; But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives and dies in single blessedness. HERMIA So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord, Ere I will my virgin patent up Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke My soul consents not to give sovereignty. THESEUS Take time to pause; and, by the nest new moon-- The sealing-day betwixt my love and me, For everlasting bond of fellowship-- Upon that day either prepare to die For disobedience to your father's will, Or else to wed Demetrius, as he would; Or on Diana's altar to protest For aye austerity and single life. DEMETRIUS Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yield Thy crazed title to my certain right. LYSANDER You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him. EGEUS Scornful Lysander! true, he hath my love, And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her I do estate unto Demetrius. LYSANDER I am, my lord, as well derived as he, As well possess'd; my love is more than his; My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd, If not with vantage, as Demetrius'; And, which is more than all these boasts can be, I am beloved of beauteous Hermia: Why should not I then prosecute my right? Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head, Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena, And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes, Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, Upon this spotted and inconstant man. THESEUS I must confess that I have heard so much, And with Demetrius thought to have spoke thereof; But, being over-full of self-affairs, My mind did lose it. But, Demetrius, come; And come, Egeus; you shall go with me, I have some private schooling for you both. For you, fair Hermia, look you arm yourself To fit your fancies to your father's will; Or else the law of Athens yields you up-- Which by no means we may extenuate-- To death, or to a vow of single life. Come, my Hippolyta: what cheer, my love? Demetrius and Egeus, go along: I must employ you in some business Against our nuptial and confer with you Of something nearly that concerns yourselves. EGEUS With duty and desire we follow you. Exeunt all but LYSANDER and HERMIA LYSANDER How now, my love! why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast? HERMIA Belike for want of rain, which I could well Beteem them from the tempest of my eyes. LYSANDER Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth; But, either it was different in blood,-- HERMIA O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to low. LYSANDER Or else misgraffed in respect of years,-- HERMIA O spite! too old to be engaged to young. LYSANDER Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,-- HERMIA O hell! to choose love by another's eyes. LYSANDER Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. HERMIA If then true lovers have been ever cross'd, It stands as an edict in destiny: Then let us teach our trial patience, Because it is a customary cross, As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs, Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers. LYSANDER A good persuasion: therefore, hear me, Hermia. I have a widow aunt, a dowager Of great revenue, and she hath no child: From Athens is her house remote seven leagues; And she respects me as her only son. There, gentle Hermia, may I marry thee; And to that place the sharp Athenian law Cannot pursue us. If thou lovest me then, Steal forth thy father's house to-morrow night; And in the wood, a league without the town, Where I did meet thee once with Helena, To do observance to a morn of May, There will I stay for thee. HERMIA My good Lysander! I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow, By his best arrow with the golden head, By the simplicity of Venus' doves, By that which knitteth souls and prospers loves, And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, When the false Troyan under sail was seen, By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever women spoke, In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. LYSANDER Keep promise, love. Look, here comes Helena. Enter HELENA HERMIA God speed fair Helena! whither away? HELENA Call you me fair? that fair again unsay. Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongue's sweet air More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear. Sickness is catching: O, were favour so, Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go; My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye, My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet melody. Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated, The rest I'd give to be to you translated. O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. HERMIA I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. HELENA O that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill! HERMIA I give him curses, yet he gives me love. HELENA O that my prayers could such affection move! HERMIA The more I hate, the more he follows me. HELENA The more I love, the more he hateth me. HERMIA His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. HELENA None, but your beauty: would that fault were mine! HERMIA Take comfort: he no more shall see my face; Lysander and myself will fly this place. Before the time I did Lysander see, Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, That he hath turn'd a heaven unto a hell! LYSANDER Helen, to you our minds we will unfold: To-morrow night, when Phoebe doth behold Her silver visage in the watery glass, Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal, Through Athens' gates have we devised to steal. HERMIA And in the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet, There my Lysander and myself shall meet; And thence from Athens turn away our eyes, To seek new friends and stranger companies. Farewell, sweet playfellow: pray thou for us; And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius! Keep word, Lysander: we must starve our sight From lovers' food till morrow deep midnight. LYSANDER I will, my Hermia. Exit HERMIA Helena, adieu: As you on him, Demetrius dote on you! Exit HELENA How happy some o'er other some can be! Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; He will not know what all but he do know: And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities: Things base and vile, folding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity: Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind: Nor hath Love's mind of any judgement taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is Love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, So the boy Love is perjured every where: For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne, He hail'd down oaths that he was only mine; And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, So he dissolved, and showers of oaths did melt. I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight: Then to the wood will he to-morrow night Pursue her; and for this intelligence If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again. Exit Act 1, Scene 2 Athens. QUINCE'S house. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING QUINCE Is all our company here? BOTTOM You were best to call them generally, man by man, according to the scrip. QUINCE Here is the scroll of every man's name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, to play in our interlude before the duke and the duchess, on his wedding-day at night. BOTTOM First, good Peter Quince, say what the play treats on, then read the names of the actors, and so grow to a point. QUINCE Marry, our play is, The most lamentable comedy, and most cruel death of Pyramus and Thisby. BOTTOM A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll. Masters, spread yourselves. QUINCE Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver. BOTTOM Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed. QUINCE You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus. BOTTOM What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant? QUINCE A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love. BOTTOM That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure. To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split. The raging rocks And shivering shocks Shall break the locks Of prison gates; And Phibbus' car Shall shine from far And make and mar The foolish Fates. This was lofty! Now name the rest of the players. This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; a lover is more condoling. QUINCE Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. FLUTE Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Flute, you must take Thisby on you. FLUTE What is Thisby? a wandering knight? QUINCE It is the lady that Pyramus must love. FLUTE Nay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming. QUINCE That's all one: you shall play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you will. BOTTOM An I may hide my face, let me play Thisby too, I'll speak in a monstrous little voice. 'Thisne, Thisne;' 'Ah, Pyramus, lover dear! thy Thisby dear, and lady dear!' QUINCE No, no; you must play Pyramus: and, Flute, you Thisby. BOTTOM Well, proceed. QUINCE Robin Starveling, the tailor. STARVELING Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE Robin Starveling, you must play Thisby's mother. Tom Snout, the tinker. SNOUT Here, Peter Quince. QUINCE You, Pyramus' father: myself, Thisby's father: Snug, the joiner; you, the lion's part: and, I hope, here is a play fitted. SNUG Have you the lion's part written? pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. QUINCE You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but roaring. BOTTOM Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again.' QUINCE An you should do it too terribly, you would fright the duchess and the ladies, that they would shriek; and that were enough to hang us all. ALL That would hang us, every mother's son. BOTTOM I grant you, friends, if that you should fright the ladies out of their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us: but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale. QUINCE You can play no part but Pyramus; for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man; a proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day; a most lovely gentleman-like man: therefore you must needs play Pyramus. BOTTOM Well, I will undertake it. What beard were I best to play it in? QUINCE Why, what you will. BOTTOM I will discharge it in either your straw-colour beard, your orange-tawny beard, your purple-in-grain beard, or your French-crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. QUINCE Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. But, masters, here are your parts: and I am to entreat you, request you and desire you, to con them by to-morrow night; and meet me in the palace wood, a mile without the town, by moonlight; there will we rehearse, for if we meet in the city, we shall be dogged with company, and our devices known. In the meantime I will draw a bill of properties, such as our play wants. I pray you, fail me not. BOTTOM We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously. Take pains; be perfect: adieu. QUINCE At the duke's oak we meet. BOTTOM Enough; hold or cut bow-strings. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 1 A wood near Athens. Enter, from opposite sides, a Fairy, and PUCK PUCK How now, spirit! whither wander you? Fairy Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be: In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone: Our queen and all our elves come here anon. PUCK The king doth keep his revels here to-night: Take heed the queen come not within his sight; For Oberon is passing fell and wrath, Because that she as her attendant hath A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling; And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild; But she perforce withholds the loved boy, Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, But, they do square, that all their elves for fear Creep into acorn-cups and hide them there. Fairy Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not you he That frights the maidens of the villagery; Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm; Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are not you he? PUCK Thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon and make him smile When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal: And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab, And when she drinks, against her lips I bob And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, And waxen in their mirth and neeze and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there. But, room, fairy! here comes Oberon. Fairy And here my mistress. Would that he were gone! Enter, from one side, OBERON, with his train; from the other, TITANIA, with hers OBERON Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania. TITANIA What, jealous Oberon! Fairies, skip hence: I have forsworn his bed and company. OBERON Tarry, rash wanton: am not I thy lord? TITANIA Then I must be thy lady: but I know When thou hast stolen away from fairy land, And in the shape of Corin sat all day, Playing on pipes of corn and versing love To amorous Phillida. Why art thou here, Come from the farthest Steppe of India? But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love, To Theseus must be wedded, and you come To give their bed joy and prosperity. OBERON How canst thou thus for shame, Titania, Glance at my credit with Hippolyta, Knowing I know thy love to Theseus? Didst thou not lead him through the glimmering night From Perigenia, whom he ravished? And make him with fair AEgle break his faith, With Ariadne and Antiopa? TITANIA These are the forgeries of jealousy: And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea Contagious fogs; which falling in the land Have every pelting river made so proud That they have overborne their continents: The ox hath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, The ploughman lost his sweat, and the green corn Hath rotted ere his youth attain'd a beard; The fold stands empty in the drowned field, And crows are fatted with the murrion flock; The nine men's morris is fill'd up with mud, And the quaint mazes in the wanton green For lack of tread are undistinguishable: The human mortals want their winter here; No night is now with hymn or carol blest: Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger, washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound: And thorough this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Far in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set: the spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which: And this same progeny of evils comes From our debate, from our dissension; We are their parents and original. OBERON Do you amend it then; it lies in you: Why should Titania cross her Oberon? I do but beg a little changeling boy, To be my henchman. TITANIA Set your heart at rest: The fairy land buys not the child of me. His mother was a votaress of my order: And, in the spiced Indian air, by night, Full often hath she gossip'd by my side, And sat with me on Neptune's yellow sands, Marking the embarked traders on the flood, When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind; Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait Following,--her womb then rich with my young squire,-- Would imitate, and sail upon the land, To fetch me trifles, and return again, As from a voyage, rich with merchandise. But she, being mortal, of that boy did die; And for her sake do I rear up her boy, And for her sake I will not part with him. OBERON How long within this wood intend you stay? TITANIA Perchance till after Theseus' wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round And see our moonlight revels, go with us; If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. OBERON Give me that boy, and I will go with thee. TITANIA Not for thy fairy kingdom. Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay. Exit TITANIA with her train OBERON Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove Till I torment thee for this injury. My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath That the rude sea grew civil at her song And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music. PUCK I remember. OBERON That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned by the west, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower; the herb I shew'd thee once: The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees. Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again Ere the leviathan can swim a league. PUCK I'll put a girdle round about the earth In forty minutes. Exit OBERON Having once this juice, I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, And drop the liquor of it in her eyes. The next thing then she waking looks upon, Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, On meddling monkey, or on busy ape, She shall pursue it with the soul of love: And ere I take this charm from off her sight, As I can take it with another herb, I'll make her render up her page to me. But who comes here? I am invisible; And I will overhear their conference. Enter DEMETRIUS, HELENA, following him DEMETRIUS I love thee not, therefore pursue me not. Where is Lysander and fair Hermia? The one I'll slay, the other slayeth me. Thou told'st me they were stolen unto this wood; And here am I, and wode within this wood, Because I cannot meet my Hermia. Hence, get thee gone, and follow me no more. HELENA You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant; But yet you draw not iron, for my heart Is true as steel: leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follow you. DEMETRIUS Do I entice you? do I speak you fair? Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth Tell you, I do not, nor I cannot love you? HELENA And even for that do I love you the more. I am your spaniel; and, Demetrius, The more you beat me, I will fawn on you: Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike me, Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, Unworthy as I am, to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love,-- And yet a place of high respect with me,-- Than to be used as you use your dog? DEMETRIUS Tempt not too much the hatred of my spirit; For I am sick when I do look on thee. HELENA And I am sick when I look not on you. DEMETRIUS You do impeach your modesty too much, To leave the city and commit yourself Into the hands of one that loves you not; To trust the opportunity of night And the ill counsel of a desert place With the rich worth of your virginity. HELENA Your virtue is my privilege: for that It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night; Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me? DEMETRIUS I'll run from thee and hide me in the brakes, And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. HELENA The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies. DEMETRIUS I will not stay thy questions; let me go: Or, if thou follow me, do not believe But I shall do thee mischief in the wood. HELENA Ay, in the temple, in the town, the field, You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: We cannot fight for love, as men may do; We should be wood and were not made to woo. Exit DEMETRIUS I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well. Exit OBERON Fare thee well, nymph: ere he do leave this grove, Thou shalt fly him and he shall seek thy love. Re-enter PUCK Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wanderer. PUCK Ay, there it is. OBERON I pray thee, give it me. I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine: There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight; And there the snake throws her enamell'd skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in: And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, And make her full of hateful fantasies. Take thou some of it, and seek through this grove: A sweet Athenian lady is in love With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; But do it when the next thing he espies May be the lady: thou shalt know the man By the Athenian garments he hath on. Effect it with some care, that he may prove More fond on her than she upon her love: And look thou meet me ere the first cock crow. PUCK Fear not, my lord, your servant shall do so. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 2 Another part of the wood. Enter TITANIA, with her train TITANIA Come, now a roundel and a fairy song; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds, Some war with rere-mice for their leathern wings, To make my small elves coats, and some keep back The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits. Sing me now asleep; Then to your offices and let me rest. The Fairies sing You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby: Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offence. Philomel, with melody, &c. Fairy Hence, away! now all is well: One aloof stand sentinel. Exeunt Fairies. TITANIA sleeps Enter OBERON and squeezes the flower on TITANIA's eyelids OBERON What thou seest when thou dost wake, Do it for thy true-love take, Love and languish for his sake: Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard, or boar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wakest, it is thy dear: Wake when some vile thing is near. Exit Enter LYSANDER and HERMIA LYSANDER Fair love, you faint with wandering in the wood; And to speak troth, I have forgot our way: We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good, And tarry for the comfort of the day. HERMIA Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed; For I upon this bank will rest my head. LYSANDER One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth. HERMIA Nay, good Lysander; for my sake, my dear, Lie further off yet, do not lie so near. LYSANDER O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence! Love takes the meaning in love's conference. I mean, that my heart unto yours is knit So that but one heart we can make of it; Two bosoms interchained with an oath; So then two bosoms and a single troth. Then by your side no bed-room me deny; For lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. HERMIA Lysander riddles very prettily: Now much beshrew my manners and my pride, If Hermia meant to say Lysander lied. But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy Lie further off; in human modesty, Such separation as may well be said Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid, So far be distant; and, good night, sweet friend: Thy love ne'er alter till thy sweet life end! LYSANDER Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I; And then end life when I end loyalty! Here is my bed: sleep give thee all his rest! HERMIA With half that wish the wisher's eyes be press'd! They sleep Enter PUCK PUCK Through the forest have I gone. But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. Night and silence.--Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear: This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul! she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. When thou wakest, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: So awake when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon. Exit Enter DEMETRIUS and HELENA, running HELENA Stay, though thou kill me, sweet Demetrius. DEMETRIUS I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus. HELENA O, wilt thou darkling leave me? do not so. DEMETRIUS Stay, on thy peril: I alone will go. Exit HELENA O, I am out of breath in this fond chase! The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. Happy is Hermia, wheresoe'er she lies; For she hath blessed and attractive eyes. How came her eyes so bright? Not with salt tears: If so, my eyes are oftener wash'd than hers. No, no, I am as ugly as a bear; For beasts that meet me run away for fear: Therefore no marvel though Demetrius Do, as a monster fly my presence thus. What wicked and dissembling glass of mine Made me compare with Hermia's sphery eyne? But who is here? Lysander! on the ground! Dead? or asleep? I see no blood, no wound. Lysander if you live, good sir, awake. LYSANDER [Awaking] And run through fire I will for thy sweet sake. Transparent Helena! Nature shows art, That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart. Where is Demetrius? O, how fit a word Is that vile name to perish on my sword! HELENA Do not say so, Lysander; say not so What though he love your Hermia? Lord, what though? Yet Hermia still loves you: then be content. LYSANDER Content with Hermia! No; I do repent The tedious minutes I with her have spent. Not Hermia but Helena I love: Who will not change a raven for a dove? The will of man is by his reason sway'd; And reason says you are the worthier maid. Things growing are not ripe until their season So I, being young, till now ripe not to reason; And touching now the point of human skill, Reason becomes the marshal to my will And leads me to your eyes, where I o'erlook Love's stories written in love's richest book. HELENA Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency? Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you do, In such disdainful manner me to woo. But fare you well: perforce I must confess I thought you lord of more true gentleness. O, that a lady, of one man refused. Should of another therefore be abused! Exit LYSANDER She sees not Hermia. Hermia, sleep thou there: And never mayst thou come Lysander near! For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me! And, all my powers, address your love and might To honour Helen and to be her knight! Exit HERMIA [Awaking] Help me, Lysander, help me! do thy best To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! Ay me, for pity! what a dream was here! Lysander, look how I do quake with fear: Methought a serpent eat my heart away, And you sat smiling at his cruel pray. Lysander! what, removed? Lysander! lord! What, out of hearing? gone? no sound, no word? Alack, where are you speak, an if you hear; Speak, of all loves! I swoon almost with fear. No? then I well perceive you all not nigh Either death or you I'll find immediately. Exit Act 3, Scene 1 The wood. TITANIA lying asleep. Enter QUINCE, SNUG, BOTTOM, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING BOTTOM Are we all met? QUINCE Pat, pat; and here's a marvellous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn-brake our tiring-house; and we will do it in action as we will do it before the duke. BOTTOM Peter Quince,-- QUINCE What sayest thou, bully Bottom? BOTTOM There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisby that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that? SNOUT By'r lakin, a parlous fear. STARVELING I believe we must leave the killing out, when all is done. BOTTOM Not a whit: I have a device to make all well. Write me a prologue; and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed; and, for the more better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the weaver: this will put them out of fear. QUINCE Well, we will have such a prologue; and it shall be written in eight and six. BOTTOM No, make it two more; let it be written in eight and eight. SNOUT Will not the ladies be afeard of the lion? STARVELING I fear it, I promise you. BOTTOM Masters, you ought to consider with yourselves: to bring in--God shield us!--a lion among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for there is not a more fearful wild-fowl than your lion living; and we ought to look to 't. SNOUT Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion. BOTTOM Nay, you must name his name, and half his face must be seen through the lion's neck: and he himself must speak through, saying thus, or to the same defect,--'Ladies,'--or 'Fair-ladies--I would wish You,'--or 'I would request you,'--or 'I would entreat you,--not to fear, not to tremble: my life for yours. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no I am no such thing; I am a man as other men are;' and there indeed let him name his name, and tell them plainly he is Snug the joiner. QUINCE Well it shall be so. But there is two hard things; that is, to bring the moonlight into a chamber; for, you know, Pyramus and Thisby meet by moonlight. SNOUT Doth the moon shine that night we play our play? BOTTOM A calendar, a calendar! look in the almanac; find out moonshine, find out moonshine. QUINCE Yes, it doth shine that night. BOTTOM Why, then may you leave a casement of the great chamber window, where we play, open, and the moon may shine in at the casement. QUINCE Ay; or else one must come in with a bush of thorns and a lanthorn, and say he comes to disfigure, or to present, the person of Moonshine. Then, there is another thing: we must have a wall in the great chamber; for Pyramus and Thisby says the story, did talk through the chink of a wall. SNOUT You can never bring in a wall. What say you, Bottom? BOTTOM Some man or other must present Wall: and let him have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. QUINCE If that may be, then all is well. Come, sit down, every mother's son, and rehearse your parts. Pyramus, you begin: when you have spoken your speech, enter into that brake: and so every one according to his cue. Enter PUCK behind PUCK What hempen home-spuns have we swaggering here, So near the cradle of the fairy queen? What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. QUINCE Speak, Pyramus. Thisby, stand forth. BOTTOM Thisby, the flowers of odious savours sweet,-- QUINCE Odours, odours. BOTTOM --odours savours sweet: So hath thy breath, my dearest Thisby dear. But hark, a voice! stay thou but here awhile, And by and by I will to thee appear. Exit PUCK A stranger Pyramus than e'er played here. Exit FLUTE Must I speak now? QUINCE Ay, marry, must you; for you must understand he goes but to see a noise that he heard, and is to come again. FLUTE Most radiant Pyramus, most lily-white of hue, Of colour like the red rose on triumphant brier, Most brisky juvenal and eke most lovely Jew, As true as truest horse that yet would never tire, I'll meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's tomb. QUINCE 'Ninus' tomb,' man: why, you must not speak that yet; that you answer to Pyramus: you speak all your part at once, cues and all Pyramus enter: your cue is past; it is, 'never tire.' FLUTE O,--As true as truest horse, that yet would never tire. Re-enter PUCK, and BOTTOM with an ass's head BOTTOM If I were fair, Thisby, I were only thine. QUINCE O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters! Help! Exeunt QUINCE, SNUG, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING PUCK I'll follow you, I'll lead you about a round, Through bog, through bush, through brake, through brier: Sometime a horse I'll be, sometime a hound, A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn, Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. Exit BOTTOM Why do they run away? this is a knavery of them to make me afeard. Re-enter SNOUT SNOUT O Bottom, thou art changed! what do I see on thee? BOTTOM What do you see? you see an asshead of your own, do you? Exit SNOUT Re-enter QUINCE QUINCE Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. Exit BOTTOM I see their knavery: this is to make an ass of me; to fright me, if they could. But I will not stir from this place, do what they can: I will walk up and down here, and I will sing, that they shall hear I am not afraid. Sings The ousel cock so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill,-- TITANIA [Awaking] What angel wakes me from my flowery bed? BOTTOM [Sings] The finch, the sparrow and the lark, The plain-song cuckoo gray, Whose note full many a man doth mark, And dares not answer nay;-- for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so? TITANIA I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me On the first view to say, to swear, I love thee. BOTTOM Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that: and yet, to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days; the more the pity that some honest neighbours will not make them friends. Nay, I can gleek upon occasion. TITANIA Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. BOTTOM Not so, neither: but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, I have enough to serve mine own turn. TITANIA Out of this wood do not desire to go: Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate; The summer still doth tend upon my state; And I do love thee: therefore, go with me; I'll give thee fairies to attend on thee, And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep; And I will purge thy mortal grossness so That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed! Enter PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, and MUSTARDSEED PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. COBWEB And I. MOTH And I. MUSTARDSEED And I. ALL Where shall we go? TITANIA Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; And pluck the wings from Painted butterflies To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes: Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. PEASEBLOSSOM Hail, mortal! COBWEB Hail! MOTH Hail! MUSTARDSEED Hail! BOTTOM I cry your worship's mercy, heartily: I beseech your worship's name. COBWEB Cobweb. BOTTOM I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb: if I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gentleman? PEASEBLOSSOM Peaseblossom. BOTTOM I pray you, commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peaseblossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance too. Your name, I beseech you, sir? MUSTARDSEED Mustardseed. BOTTOM Good Master Mustardseed, I know your patience well: that same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman of your house: I promise you your kindred had made my eyes water ere now. I desire your more acquaintance, good Master Mustardseed. TITANIA Come, wait upon him; lead him to my bower. The moon methinks looks with a watery eye; And when she weeps, weeps every little flower, Lamenting some enforced chastity. Tie up my love's tongue bring him silently. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 2 Another part of the wood. Enter OBERON OBERON I wonder if Titania be awaked; Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity. Enter PUCK Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove? PUCK My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus' nuptial-day. The shallowest thick-skin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and enter'd in a brake When I did him at this advantage take, An ass's nole I fixed on his head: Anon his Thisbe must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So, at his sight, away his fellows fly; And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong; For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there: When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania waked and straightway loved an ass. OBERON This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch'd the Athenian's eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do? PUCK I took him sleeping,--that is finish'd too,-- And the Athenian woman by his side: That, when he waked, of force she must be eyed. Enter HERMIA and DEMETRIUS OBERON Stand close: this is the same Athenian. PUCK This is the woman, but not this the man. DEMETRIUS O, why rebuke you him that loves you so? Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. HERMIA Now I but chide; but I should use thee worse, For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse, If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me: would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon This whole earth may be bored and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother's noontide with Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murder'd him; So should a murderer look, so dead, so grim. DEMETRIUS So should the murder'd look, and so should I, Pierced through the heart with your stern cruelty: Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. HERMIA What's this to my Lysander? where is he? Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me? DEMETRIUS I had rather give his carcass to my hounds. HERMIA Out, dog! out, cur! thou drivest me past the bounds Of maiden's patience. Hast thou slain him, then? Henceforth be never number'd among men! O, once tell true, tell true, even for my sake! Durst thou have look'd upon him being awake, And hast thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave touch! Could not a worm, an adder, do so much? An adder did it; for with doubler tongue Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. DEMETRIUS You spend your passion on a misprised mood: I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; Nor is he dead, for aught that I can tell. HERMIA I pray thee, tell me then that he is well. DEMETRIUS An if I could, what should I get therefore? HERMIA A privilege never to see me more. And from thy hated presence part I so: See me no more, whether he be dead or no. Exit DEMETRIUS There is no following her in this fierce vein: Here therefore for a while I will remain. So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe: Which now in some slight measure it will pay, If for his tender here I make some stay. Lies down and sleeps OBERON What hast thou done? thou hast mistaken quite And laid the love-juice on some true-love's sight: Of thy misprision must perforce ensue Some true love turn'd and not a false turn'd true. PUCK Then fate o'er-rules, that, one man holding troth, A million fail, confounding oath on oath. OBERON About the wood go swifter than the wind, And Helena of Athens look thou find: All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear: By some illusion see thou bring her here: I'll charm his eyes against she do appear. PUCK I go, I go; look how I go, Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow. Exit OBERON Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye. When his love he doth espy, Let her shine as gloriously As the Venus of the sky. When thou wakest, if she be by, Beg of her for remedy. Re-enter PUCK PUCK Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand; And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be! OBERON Stand aside: the noise they make Will cause Demetrius to awake. PUCK Then will two at once woo one; That must needs be sport alone; And those things do best please me That befal preposterously. Enter LYSANDER and HELENA LYSANDER Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true? HELENA You do advance your cunning more and more. When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray! These vows are Hermia's: will you give her o'er? Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh: Your vows to her and me, put in two scales, Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. LYSANDER I had no judgment when to her I swore. HELENA Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o'er. LYSANDER Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you. DEMETRIUS [Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow! That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow, Fann'd with the eastern wind, turns to a crow When thou hold'st up thy hand: O, let me kiss This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss! HELENA O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent To set against me for your merriment: If you we re civil and knew courtesy, You would not do me thus much injury. Can you not hate me, as I know you do, But you must join in souls to mock me too? If you were men, as men you are in show, You would not use a gentle lady so; To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts, When I am sure you hate me with your hearts. You both are rivals, and love Hermia; And now both rivals, to mock Helena: A trim exploit, a manly enterprise, To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes With your derision! none of noble sort Would so offend a virgin, and extort A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. LYSANDER You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; For you love Hermia; this you know I know: And here, with all good will, with all my heart, In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; And yours of Helena to me bequeath, Whom I do love and will do till my death. HELENA Never did mockers waste more idle breath. DEMETRIUS Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none: If e'er I loved her, all that love is gone. My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn'd, And now to Helen is it home return'd, There to remain. LYSANDER Helen, it is not so. DEMETRIUS Disparage not the faith thou dost not know, Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear. Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear. Re-enter HERMIA HERMIA Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, The ear more quick of apprehension makes; Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense, It pays the hearing double recompense. Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found; Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound But why unkindly didst thou leave me so? LYSANDER Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go? HERMIA What love could press Lysander from my side? LYSANDER Lysander's love, that would not let him bide, Fair Helena, who more engilds the night Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light. Why seek'st thou me? could not this make thee know, The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so? HERMIA You speak not as you think: it cannot be. HELENA Lo, she is one of this confederacy! Now I perceive they have conjoin'd all three To fashion this false sport, in spite of me. Injurious Hermia! most ungrateful maid! Have you conspired, have you with these contrived To bait me with this foul derision? Is all the counsel that we two have shared, The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, When we have chid the hasty-footed time For parting us,--O, is it all forgot? All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key, As if our hands, our sides, voices and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grow together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, Due but to one and crowned with one crest. And will you rent our ancient love asunder, To join with men in scorning your poor friend? It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, Though I alone do feel the injury. HERMIA I am amazed at your passionate words. I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me. HELENA Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn, To follow me and praise my eyes and face? And made your other love, Demetrius, Who even but now did spurn me with his foot, To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare, Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander Deny your love, so rich within his soul, And tender me, forsooth, affection, But by your setting on, by your consent? What thought I be not so in grace as you, So hung upon with love, so fortunate, But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise. HERNIA I understand not what you mean by this. HELENA Ay, do, persever, counterfeit sad looks, Make mouths upon me when I turn my back; Wink each at other; hold the sweet jest up: This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. If you have any pity, grace, or manners, You would not make me such an argument. But fare ye well: 'tis partly my own fault; Which death or absence soon shall remedy. LYSANDER Stay, gentle Helena; hear my excuse: My love, my life my soul, fair Helena! HELENA O excellent! HERMIA Sweet, do not scorn her so. DEMETRIUS If she cannot entreat, I can compel. LYSANDER Thou canst compel no more than she entreat: Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers. Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do: I swear by that which I will lose for thee, To prove him false that says I love thee not. DEMETRIUS I say I love thee more than he can do. LYSANDER If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too. DEMETRIUS Quick, come! HERMIA Lysander, whereto tends all this? LYSANDER Away, you Ethiope! DEMETRIUS No, no; he'll [ ] Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow, But yet come not: you are a tame man, go! LYSANDER Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose, Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent! HERMIA Why are you grown so rude? what change is this? Sweet love,-- LYSANDER Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out! Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence! HERMIA Do you not jest? HELENA Yes, sooth; and so do you. LYSANDER Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee. DEMETRIUS I would I had your bond, for I perceive A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word. LYSANDER What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead? Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. HERMIA What, can you do me greater harm than hate? Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love! Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander? I am as fair now as I was erewhile. Since night you loved me; yet since night you left me: Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!-- In earnest, shall I say? LYSANDER Ay, by my life; And never did desire to see thee more. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt; Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest That I do hate thee and love Helena. HERMIA O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom! You thief of love! what, have you come by night And stolen my love's heart from him? HELENA Fine, i'faith! Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you! HERMIA Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game. Now I perceive that she hath made compare Between our statures; she hath urged her height; And with her personage, her tall personage, Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him. And are you grown so high in his esteem; Because I am so dwarfish and so low? How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak; How low am I? I am not yet so low But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. HELENA I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen, Let her not hurt me: I was never curst; I have no gift at all in shrewishness; I am a right maid for my cowardice: Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think, Because she is something lower than myself, That I can match her. HERMIA Lower! hark, again. HELENA Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me. I evermore did love you, Hermia, Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you; Save that, in love unto Demetrius, I told him of your stealth unto this wood. He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him; But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too: And now, so you will let me quiet go, To Athens will I bear my folly back And follow you no further: let me go: You see how simple and how fond I am. HERMIA Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you? HELENA A foolish heart, that I leave here behind. HERMIA What, with Lysander? HELENA With Demetrius. LYSANDER Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena. DEMETRIUS No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part. HELENA O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce. HERMIA 'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'! Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? Let me come to her. LYSANDER Get you gone, you dwarf; You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made; You bead, you acorn. DEMETRIUS You are too officious In her behalf that scorns your services. Let her alone: speak not of Helena; Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend Never so little show of love to her, Thou shalt aby it. LYSANDER Now she holds me not; Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. DEMETRIUS Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole. Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS HERMIA You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you: Nay, go not back. HELENA I will not trust you, I, Nor longer stay in your curst company. Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray, My legs are longer though, to run away. Exit HERMIA I am amazed, and know not what to say. Exit OBERON This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest, Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. PUCK Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook. Did not you tell me I should know the man By the Athenian garment be had on? And so far blameless proves my enterprise, That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes; And so far am I glad it so did sort As this their jangling I esteem a sport. OBERON Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight: Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; The starry welkin cover thou anon With drooping fog as black as Acheron, And lead these testy rivals so astray As one come not within another's way. Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue, Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong; And sometime rail thou like Demetrius; And from each other look thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep: Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; Whose liquor hath this virtuous property, To take from thence all error with his might, And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight. When they next wake, all this derision Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision, And back to Athens shall the lovers wend, With league whose date till death shall never end. Whiles I in this affair do thee employ, I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy; And then I will her charmed eye release From monster's view, and all things shall be peace. PUCK My fairy lord, this must be done with haste, For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all, That in crossways and floods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone; For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully themselves exile from light And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night. OBERON But we are spirits of another sort: I with the morning's love have oft made sport, And, like a forester, the groves may tread, Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red, Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams, Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams. But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay: We may effect this business yet ere day. Exit PUCK Up and down, up and down, I will lead them up and down: I am fear'd in field and town: Goblin, lead them up and down. Here comes one. Re-enter LYSANDER LYSANDER Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now. PUCK Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou? LYSANDER I will be with thee straight. PUCK Follow me, then, To plainer ground. Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice Re-enter DEMETRIUS DEMETRIUS Lysander! speak again: Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled? Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head? PUCK Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars, Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child; I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled That draws a sword on thee. DEMETRIUS Yea, art thou there? PUCK Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here. Exeunt Re-enter LYSANDER LYSANDER He goes before me and still dares me on: When I come where he calls, then he is gone. The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I: I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly; That fallen am I in dark uneven way, And here will rest me. Lies down Come, thou gentle day! For if but once thou show me thy grey light, I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite. Sleeps Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS PUCK Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not? DEMETRIUS Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place, And darest not stand, nor look me in the face. Where art thou now? PUCK Come hither: I am here. DEMETRIUS Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear, If ever I thy face by daylight see: Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me To measure out my length on this cold bed. By day's approach look to be visited. Lies down and sleeps Re-enter HELENA HELENA O weary night, O long and tedious night, Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east, That I may back to Athens by daylight, From these that my poor company detest: And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company. Lies down and sleeps PUCK Yet but three? Come one more; Two of both kinds make up four. Here she comes, curst and sad: Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad. Re-enter HERMIA HERMIA Never so weary, never so in woe, Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers, I can no further crawl, no further go; My legs can keep no pace with my desires. Here will I rest me till the break of day. Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray! Lies down and sleeps PUCK On the ground Sleep sound: I'll apply To your eye, Gentle lover, remedy. Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes When thou wakest, Thou takest True delight In the sight Of thy former lady's eye: And the country proverb known, That every man should take his own, In your waking shall be shown: Jack shall have Jill; Nought shall go ill; The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well. Exit Act 4, Scene 1 The same. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA lying asleep. Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM; PEASEBLOSSOM, COBWEB, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED, and other Fairies attending; OBERON behind unseen TITANIA Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. BOTTOM Where's Peaseblossom? PEASEBLOSSOM Ready. BOTTOM Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cobweb? COBWEB Ready. BOTTOM Mounsieur Cobweb, good mounsieur, get you your weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and, good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not; I would be loath to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed? MUSTARDSEED Ready. BOTTOM Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good mounsieur. MUSTARDSEED What's your Will? BOTTOM Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cobweb to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch. TITANIA What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? BOTTOM I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have the tongs and the bones. TITANIA Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. BOTTOM Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow. TITANIA I have a venturous fairy that shall seek The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. BOTTOM I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. TITANIA Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be all ways away. Exeunt fairies So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm. O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee! They sleep Enter PUCK OBERON [Advancing] Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do begin to pity: For, meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool, I did upbraid her and fall out with her; For she his hairy temples then had rounded With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers; And that same dew, which sometime on the buds Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had at my pleasure taunted her And she in mild terms begg'd my patience, I then did ask of her her changeling child; Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo This hateful imperfection of her eyes: And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain; That, he awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair And think no more of this night's accidents But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first I will release the fairy queen. Be as thou wast wont to be; See as thou wast wont to see: Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen. TITANIA My Oberon! what visions have I seen! Methought I was enamour'd of an ass. OBERON There lies your love. TITANIA How came these things to pass? O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now! OBERON Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head. Titania, music call; and strike more dead Than common sleep of all these five the sense. TITANIA Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep! Music, still PUCK Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool's eyes peep. OBERON Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair prosperity: There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. PUCK Fairy king, attend, and mark: I do hear the morning lark. OBERON Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade: We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon. TITANIA Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night That I sleeping here was found With these mortals on the ground. Exeunt Horns winded within Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train THESEUS Go, one of you, find out the forester; For now our observation is perform'd; And since we have the vaward of the day, My love shall hear the music of my hounds. Uncouple in the western valley; let them go: Dispatch, I say, and find the forester. Exit an Attendant We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, And mark the musical confusion Of hounds and echo in conjunction. HIPPOLYTA I was with Hercules and Cadmus once, When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves, The skies, the fountains, every region near Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. THESEUS My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tuneable Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn, In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly: Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these? EGEUS My lord, this is my daughter here asleep; And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: I wonder of their being here together. THESEUS No doubt they rose up early to observe The rite of May, and hearing our intent, Came here in grace our solemnity. But speak, Egeus; is not this the day That Hermia should give answer of her choice? EGEUS It is, my lord. THESEUS Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns. Horns and shout within. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA wake and start up Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past: Begin these wood-birds but to couple now? LYSANDER Pardon, my lord. THESEUS I pray you all, stand up. I know you two are rival enemies: How comes this gentle concord in the world, That hatred is so far from jealousy, To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity? LYSANDER My lord, I shall reply amazedly, Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear, I cannot truly say how I came here; But, as I think,--for truly would I speak, And now do I bethink me, so it is,-- I came with Hermia hither: our intent Was to be gone from Athens, where we might, Without the peril of the Athenian law. EGEUS Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough: I beg the law, the law, upon his head. They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius, Thereby to have defeated you and me, You of your wife and me of my consent, Of my consent that she should be your wife. DEMETRIUS My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth, Of this their purpose hither to this wood; And I in fury hither follow'd them, Fair Helena in fancy following me. But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,-- But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia, Melted as the snow, seems to me now As the remembrance of an idle gaud Which in my childhood I did dote upon; And all the faith, the virtue of my heart, The object and the pleasure of mine eye, Is only Helena. To her, my lord, Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia: But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food; But, as in health, come to my natural taste, Now I do wish it, love it, long for it, And will for evermore be true to it. THESEUS Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: Of this discourse we more will hear anon. Egeus, I will overbear your will; For in the temple by and by with us These couples shall eternally be knit: And, for the morning now is something worn, Our purposed hunting shall be set aside. Away with us to Athens; three and three, We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. Come, Hippolyta. Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train DEMETRIUS These things seem small and undistinguishable, HERMIA Methinks I see these things with parted eye, When every thing seems double. HELENA So methinks: And I have found Demetrius like a jewel, Mine own, and not mine own. DEMETRIUS Are you sure That we are awake? It seems to me That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think The duke was here, and bid us follow him? HERMIA Yea; and my father. HELENA And Hippolyta. LYSANDER And he did bid us follow to the temple. DEMETRIUS Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him And by the way let us recount our dreams. Exeunt BOTTOM [Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death. Exit Act 4, Scene 2 Athens. QUINCE'S house. Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING QUINCE Have you sent to Bottom's house? is he come home yet? STARVELING He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is transported. FLUTE If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes not forward, doth it? QUINCE It is not possible: you have not a man in all Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he. FLUTE No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft man in Athens. QUINCE Yea and the best person too; and he is a very paramour for a sweet voice. FLUTE You must say 'paragon:' a paramour is, God bless us, a thing of naught. Enter SNUG SNUG Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and there is two or three lords and ladies more married: if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made men. FLUTE O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a day during his life; he could not have 'scaped sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in Pyramus, or nothing. Enter BOTTOM BOTTOM Where are these lads? where are these hearts? QUINCE Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour! BOTTOM Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, right as it fell out. QUINCE Let us hear, sweet Bottom. BOTTOM Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together, good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more words: away! go, away! Exeunt Act 5, Scene 1 Athens. The palace of THESEUS. Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants HIPPOLYTA 'Tis strange my Theseus, that these lovers speak of. THESEUS More strange than true: I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! HIPPOLYTA But all the story of the night told over, And all their minds transfigured so together, More witnesseth than fancy's images And grows to something of great constancy; But, howsoever, strange and admirable. THESEUS Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth. Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts! LYSANDER More than to us Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed! THESEUS Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have, To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bed-time? Where is our usual manager of mirth? What revels are in hand? Is there no play, To ease the anguish of a torturing hour? Call Philostrate. PHILOSTRATE Here, mighty Theseus. THESEUS Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque? what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time, if not with some delight? PHILOSTRATE There is a brief how many sports are ripe: Make choice of which your highness will see first. Giving a paper THESEUS [Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.' We'll none of that: that have I told my love, In glory of my kinsman Hercules. Reads 'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.' That is an old device; and it was play'd When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. Reads 'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.' That is some satire, keen and critical, Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony. Reads 'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.' Merry and tragical! tedious and brief! That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow. How shall we find the concord of this discord? PHILOSTRATE A play there is, my lord, some ten words long, Which is as brief as I have known a play; But by ten words, my lord, it is too long, Which makes it tedious; for in all the play There is not one word apt, one player fitted: And tragical, my noble lord, it is; For Pyramus therein doth kill himself. Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess, Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears The passion of loud laughter never shed. THESEUS What are they that do play it? PHILOSTRATE Hard-handed men that work in Athens here, Which never labour'd in their minds till now, And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories With this same play, against your nuptial. THESEUS And we will hear it. PHILOSTRATE No, my noble lord; It is not for you: I have heard it over, And it is nothing, nothing in the world; Unless you can find sport in their intents, Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain, To do you service. THESEUS I will hear that play; For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies. Exit PHILOSTRATE HIPPOLYTA I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged And duty in his service perishing. THESEUS Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing. HIPPOLYTA He says they can do nothing in this kind. THESEUS The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing. Our sport shall be to take what they mistake: And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect Takes it in might, not merit. Where I have come, great clerks have purposed To greet me with premeditated welcomes; Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, Make periods in the midst of sentences, Throttle their practised accent in their fears And in conclusion dumbly have broke off, Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet, Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome; And in the modesty of fearful duty I read as much as from the rattling tongue Of saucy and audacious eloquence. Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity. Re-enter PHILOSTRATE PHILOSTRATE So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd. THESEUS Let him approach. Flourish of trumpets Enter QUINCE for the Prologue Prologue If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, But with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider then we come but in despite. We do not come as minding to contest you, Our true intent is. All for your delight We are not here. That you should here repent you, The actors are at hand and by their show You shall know all that you are like to know. THESEUS This fellow doth not stand upon points. LYSANDER He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true. HIPPOLYTA Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child on a recorder; a sound, but not in government. THESEUS His speech, was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next? Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion Prologue Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know; This beauteous lady Thisby is certain. This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder; And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are content To whisper. At the which let no man wonder. This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn, Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know, By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo. This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name, The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, Did scare away, or rather did affright; And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall, Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain. Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall, And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain: Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broach'd is boiling bloody breast; And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest, Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain At large discourse, while here they do remain. Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine THESEUS I wonder if the lion be to speak. DEMETRIUS No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do. Wall In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper. THESEUS Would you desire lime and hair to speak better? DEMETRIUS It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse, my lord. Enter Pyramus THESEUS Pyramus draws near the wall: silence! Pyramus O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black! O night, which ever art when day is not! O night, O night! alack, alack, alack, I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot! And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, That stand'st between her father's ground and mine! Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall, Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne! Wall holds up his fingers Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this! But what see I? No Thisby do I see. O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss! Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me! THESEUS The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again. Pyramus No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me' is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes. Enter Thisbe Thisbe O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans, For parting my fair Pyramus and me! My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones, Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee. Pyramus I see a voice: now will I to the chink, To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby! Thisbe My love thou art, my love I think. Pyramus Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace; And, like Limander, am I trusty still. Thisbe And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill. Pyramus Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true. Thisbe As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you. Pyramus O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall! Thisbe I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all. Pyramus Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway? Thisbe 'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay. Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe Wall Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go. Exit THESEUS Now is the mural down between the two neighbours. DEMETRIUS No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear without warning. HIPPOLYTA This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard. THESEUS The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them. HIPPOLYTA It must be your imagination then, and not theirs. THESEUS If we imagine no worse of them than they of themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion. Enter Lion and Moonshine Lion You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar. Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife Into this place, 'twere pity on my life. THESEUS A very gentle beast, of a good conscience. DEMETRIUS The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw. LYSANDER This lion is a very fox for his valour. THESEUS True; and a goose for his discretion. DEMETRIUS Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his discretion; and the fox carries the goose. THESEUS His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour; for the goose carries not the fox. It is well: leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon. Moonshine This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;-- DEMETRIUS He should have worn the horns on his head. THESEUS He is no crescent, and his horns are invisible within the circumference. Moonshine This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be. THESEUS This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the man i' the moon? DEMETRIUS He dares not come there for the candle; for, you see, it is already in snuff. HIPPOLYTA I am aweary of this moon: would he would change! THESEUS It appears, by his small light of discretion, that he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all reason, we must stay the time. LYSANDER Proceed, Moon. Moonshine All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog. DEMETRIUS Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe. Enter Thisbe Thisbe This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love? Lion [Roaring] Oh-- Thisbe runs off DEMETRIUS Well roared, Lion. THESEUS Well run, Thisbe. HIPPOLYTA Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a good grace. The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit THESEUS Well moused, Lion. LYSANDER And so the lion vanished. DEMETRIUS And then came Pyramus. Enter Pyramus Pyramus Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisby sight. But stay, O spite! But mark, poor knight, What dreadful dole is here! Eyes, do you see? How can it be? O dainty duck! O dear! Thy mantle good, What, stain'd with blood! Approach, ye Furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell! THESEUS This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. HIPPOLYTA Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man. Pyramus O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame? Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear: Which is--no, no--which was the fairest dame That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd with cheer. Come, tears, confound; Out, sword, and wound The pap of Pyramus; Ay, that left pap, Where heart doth hop: Stabs himself Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light; Moon take thy flight: Exit Moonshine Now die, die, die, die, die. Dies DEMETRIUS No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one. LYSANDER Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing. THESEUS With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and prove an ass. HIPPOLYTA How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes back and finds her lover? THESEUS She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and her passion ends the play. Re-enter Thisbe HIPPOLYTA Methinks she should not use a long one for such a Pyramus: I hope she will be brief. DEMETRIUS A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us; she for a woman, God bless us. LYSANDER She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes. DEMETRIUS And thus she means, videlicet:-- Thisbe Asleep, my love? What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb Must cover thy sweet eyes. These My lips, This cherry nose, These yellow cowslip cheeks, Are gone, are gone: Lovers, make moan: His eyes were green as leeks. O Sisters Three, Come, come to me, With hands as pale as milk; Lay them in gore, Since you have shore With shears his thread of silk. Tongue, not a word: Come, trusty sword; Come, blade, my breast imbrue: Stabs herself And, farewell, friends; Thus Thisby ends: Adieu, adieu, adieu. Dies THESEUS Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead. DEMETRIUS Ay, and Wall too. BOTTOM [Starting up] No assure you; the wall is down that parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company? THESEUS No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your epilogue alone. A dance The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve: Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatch'd. This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed. A fortnight hold we this solemnity, In nightly revels and new jollity. Exeunt Enter PUCK PUCK Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon; Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone. Now the wasted brands do glow, Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, Puts the wretch that lies in woe In remembrance of a shroud. Now it is the time of night That the graves all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite, In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies, that do run By the triple Hecate's team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic: not a mouse Shall disturb this hallow'd house: I am sent with broom before, To sweep the dust behind the door. Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train OBERON Through the house give gathering light, By the dead and drowsy fire: Every elf and fairy sprite Hop as light as bird from brier; And this ditty, after me, Sing, and dance it trippingly. TITANIA First, rehearse your song by rote To each word a warbling note: Hand in hand, with fairy grace, Will we sing, and bless this place. Song and dance OBERON Now, until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride-bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be; And the issue there create Ever shall be fortunate. So shall all the couples three Ever true in loving be; And the blots of Nature's hand Shall not in their issue stand; Never mole, hare lip, nor scar, Nor mark prodigious, such as are Despised in nativity, Shall upon their children be. With this field-dew consecrate, Every fairy take his gait; And each several chamber bless, Through this palace, with sweet peace; And the owner of it blest Ever shall in safety rest. Trip away; make no stay; Meet me all by break of day. Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train PUCK If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. Act 1, Scene 1 London. A street. Enter GLOUCESTER, solus GLOUCESTER Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barded steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, About a prophecy, which says that 'G' Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY Brother, good day; what means this armed guard That waits upon your grace? CLARENCE His majesty Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower. GLOUCESTER Upon what cause? CLARENCE Because my name is George. GLOUCESTER Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; He should, for that, commit your godfathers: O, belike his majesty hath some intent That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower. But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? CLARENCE Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest As yet I do not: but, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies and dreams; And from the cross-row plucks the letter G. And says a wizard told him that by G His issue disinherited should be; And, for my name of George begins with G, It follows in his thought that I am he. These, as I learn, and such like toys as these Have moved his highness to commit me now. GLOUCESTER Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women: 'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower: My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she That tempers him to this extremity. Was it not she and that good man of worship, Anthony Woodville, her brother there, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, From whence this present day he is deliver'd? We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. CLARENCE By heaven, I think there's no man is secure But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. Heard ye not what an humble suppliant Lord hastings was to her for his delivery? GLOUCESTER Humbly complaining to her deity Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. I'll tell you what; I think it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the king, To be her men and wear her livery: The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. BRAKENBURY I beseech your graces both to pardon me; His majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with his brother. GLOUCESTER Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speak no treason, man: we say the king Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks: How say you sir? Can you deny all this? BRAKENBURY With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. GLOUCESTER Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow, He that doth naught with her, excepting one, Were best he do it secretly, alone. BRAKENBURY What one, my lord? GLOUCESTER Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? BRAKENBURY I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal Forbear your conference with the noble duke. CLARENCE We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. GLOUCESTER We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in, Were it to call King Edward's widow sister, I will perform it to enfranchise you. Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood Touches me deeper than you can imagine. CLARENCE I know it pleaseth neither of us well. GLOUCESTER Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; Meantime, have patience. CLARENCE I must perforce. Farewell. Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard GLOUCESTER Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? Enter HASTINGS HASTINGS Good time of day unto my gracious lord! GLOUCESTER As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to the open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? HASTINGS With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment. GLOUCESTER No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too; For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevail'd as much on him as you. HASTINGS More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. GLOUCESTER What news abroad? HASTINGS No news so bad abroad as this at home; The King is sickly, weak and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily. GLOUCESTER Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person: 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed? HASTINGS He is. GLOUCESTER Go you before, and I will follow you. Exit HASTINGS He cannot live, I hope; and must not die Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; And, if I fall not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not another day to live: Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leave the world for me to bustle in! For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. What though I kill'd her husband and her father? The readiest way to make the wench amends Is to become her husband and her father: The which will I; not all so much for love As for another secret close intent, By marrying her which I must reach unto. But yet I run before my horse to market: Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: When they are gone, then must I count my gains. Exit Act 1, Scene 2 The same. Another street. Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner LADY ANNE Set down, set down your honourable load, If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds! Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it! Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! More direful hap betide that hated wretch, That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view; And that be heir to his unhappiness! If ever he have wife, let her he made A miserable by the death of him As I am made by my poor lord and thee! Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there; And still, as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. Enter GLOUCESTER GLOUCESTER Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. LADY ANNE What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? GLOUCESTER Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. Gentleman My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. GLOUCESTER Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command: Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. LADY ANNE What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone. GLOUCESTER Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. LADY ANNE Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death! O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death! Either heaven with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! GLOUCESTER Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. LADY ANNE Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man: No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. GLOUCESTER But I know none, and therefore am no beast. LADY ANNE O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! GLOUCESTER More wonderful, when angels are so angry. Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself. LADY ANNE Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. GLOUCESTER Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. LADY ANNE Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. GLOUCESTER By such despair, I should accuse myself. LADY ANNE And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. GLOUCESTER Say that I slew them not? LADY ANNE Why, then they are not dead: But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee. GLOUCESTER I did not kill your husband. LADY ANNE Why, then he is alive. GLOUCESTER Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. LADY ANNE In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. GLOUCESTER I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. LADY ANNE Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind. Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king? GLOUCESTER I grant ye. LADY ANNE Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous! GLOUCESTER The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him. LADY ANNE He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. GLOUCESTER Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place than earth. LADY ANNE And thou unfit for any place but hell. GLOUCESTER Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. LADY ANNE Some dungeon. GLOUCESTER Your bed-chamber. LADY ANNE I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest! GLOUCESTER So will it, madam till I lie with you. LADY ANNE I hope so. GLOUCESTER I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat into a slower method, Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? LADY ANNE Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect. GLOUCESTER Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. LADY ANNE If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. GLOUCESTER These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck; You should not blemish it, if I stood by: As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that; it is my day, my life. LADY ANNE Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! GLOUCESTER Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both. LADY ANNE I would I were, to be revenged on thee. GLOUCESTER It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be revenged on him that loveth you. LADY ANNE It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that slew my husband. GLOUCESTER He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband. LADY ANNE His better doth not breathe upon the earth. GLOUCESTER He lives that loves thee better than he could. LADY ANNE Name him. GLOUCESTER Plantagenet. LADY ANNE Why, that was he. GLOUCESTER The selfsame name, but one of better nature. LADY ANNE Where is he? GLOUCESTER Here. She spitteth at him Why dost thou spit at me? LADY ANNE Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! GLOUCESTER Never came poison from so sweet a place. LADY ANNE Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes. GLOUCESTER Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. LADY ANNE Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! GLOUCESTER I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops: These eyes that never shed remorseful tear, No, when my father York and Edward wept, To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him; Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the sad story of my father's death, And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never sued to friend nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word; But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. She looks scornfully at him Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom. And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry, But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward, But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. Here she lets fall the sword Take up the sword again, or take up me. LADY ANNE Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will not be the executioner. GLOUCESTER Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. LADY ANNE I have already. GLOUCESTER Tush, that was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. LADY ANNE I would I knew thy heart. GLOUCESTER 'Tis figured in my tongue. LADY ANNE I fear me both are false. GLOUCESTER Then never man was true. LADY ANNE Well, well, put up your sword. GLOUCESTER Say, then, my peace is made. LADY ANNE That shall you know hereafter. GLOUCESTER But shall I live in hope? LADY ANNE All men, I hope, live so. GLOUCESTER Vouchsafe to wear this ring. LADY ANNE To take is not to give. GLOUCESTER Look, how this ring encompasseth finger. Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted suppliant may But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. LADY ANNE What is it? GLOUCESTER That it would please thee leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby Place; Where, after I have solemnly interr'd At Chertsey monastery this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears, I will with all expedient duty see you: For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you, Grant me this boon. LADY ANNE With all my heart; and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me. GLOUCESTER Bid me farewell. LADY ANNE 'Tis more than you deserve; But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already. Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKELEY GLOUCESTER Sirs, take up the corse. GENTLEMEN Towards Chertsey, noble lord? GLOUCESTER No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? I'll have her; but I will not keep her long. What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate, With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I nothing to back my suit at all, But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! Ha! Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, Framed in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, The spacious world cannot again afford And will she yet debase her eyes on me, That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, And made her widow to a woful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? On me, that halt and am unshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier, I do mistake my person all this while: Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man. I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, And entertain some score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favour with myself, Will maintain it with some little cost. But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave; And then return lamenting to my love. Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit Act 1, Scene 3 The palace. Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY RIVERS Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty Will soon recover his accustom'd health. GREY In that you brook it in, it makes him worse: Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. QUEEN ELIZABETH If he were dead, what would betide of me? RIVERS No other harm but loss of such a lord. QUEEN ELIZABETH The loss of such a lord includes all harm. GREY The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, To be your comforter when he is gone. QUEEN ELIZABETH Oh, he is young and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester, A man that loves not me, nor none of you. RIVERS Is it concluded that he shall be protector? QUEEN ELIZABETH It is determined, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry. Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY GREY Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby. BUCKINGHAM Good time of day unto your royal grace! DERBY God make your majesty joyful as you have been! QUEEN ELIZABETH The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby. To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured I hate not you for her proud arrogance. DERBY I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accused in true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. RIVERS Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby? DERBY But now the Duke of Buckingham and I Are come from visiting his majesty. QUEEN ELIZABETH What likelihood of his amendment, lords? BUCKINGHAM Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully. QUEEN ELIZABETH God grant him health! Did you confer with him? BUCKINGHAM Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers, And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence. QUEEN ELIZABETH Would all were well! but that will never be I fear our happiness is at the highest. Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET GLOUCESTER They do me wrong, and I will not endure it: Who are they that complain unto the king, That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abused By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks? RIVERS To whom in all this presence speaks your grace? GLOUCESTER To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal person,-- Whom God preserve better than you would wish!-- Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. QUEEN ELIZABETH Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. The king, of his own royal disposition, And not provoked by any suitor else; Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, Which in your outward actions shows itself Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. GLOUCESTER I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch: Since every Jack became a gentleman There's many a gentle person made a Jack. QUEEN ELIZABETH Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloucester; You envy my advancement and my friends': God grant we never may have need of you! GLOUCESTER Meantime, God grants that we have need of you: Your brother is imprison'd by your means, Myself disgraced, and the nobility Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions Are daily given to ennoble those That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble. QUEEN ELIZABETH By Him that raised me to this careful height From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, I never did incense his majesty Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been An earnest advocate to plead for him. My lord, you do me shameful injury, Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. GLOUCESTER You may deny that you were not the cause Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. RIVERS She may, my lord, for-- GLOUCESTER She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so? She may do more, sir, than denying that: She may help you to many fair preferments, And then deny her aiding hand therein, And lay those honours on your high deserts. What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she-- RIVERS What, marry, may she? GLOUCESTER What, marry, may she! marry with a king, A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: I wis your grandam had a worser match. QUEEN ELIZABETH My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs: By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty With those gross taunts I often have endured. I had rather be a country servant-maid Than a great queen, with this condition, To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at: Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind Small joy have I in being England's queen. QUEEN MARGARET And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! Thy honour, state and seat is due to me. GLOUCESTER What! threat you me with telling of the king? Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said I will avouch in presence of the king: I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot. QUEEN MARGARET Out, devil! I remember them too well: Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. GLOUCESTER Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king, I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, A liberal rewarder of his friends: To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. QUEEN MARGARET Yea, and much better blood than his or thine. GLOUCESTER In all which time you and your husband Grey Were factious for the house of Lancaster; And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? Let me put in your minds, if you forget, What you have been ere now, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am. QUEEN MARGARET A murderous villain, and so still thou art. GLOUCESTER Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick; Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!-- QUEEN MARGARET Which God revenge! GLOUCESTER To fight on Edward's party for the crown; And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up. I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's; Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine I am too childish-foolish for this world. QUEEN MARGARET Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is. RIVERS My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days Which here you urge to prove us enemies, We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king: So should we you, if you should be our king. GLOUCESTER If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar: Far be it from my heart, the thought of it! QUEEN ELIZABETH As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy, were you this country's king, As little joy may you suppose in me. That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. QUEEN MARGARET A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; For I am she, and altogether joyless. I can no longer hold me patient. Advancing Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'd from me! Which of you trembles not that looks on me? If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects, Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels? O gentle villain, do not turn away! GLOUCESTER Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight? QUEEN MARGARET But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; That will I make before I let thee go. GLOUCESTER Wert thou not banished on pain of death? QUEEN MARGARET I was; but I do find more pain in banishment Than death can yield me here by my abode. A husband and a son thou owest to me; And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: The sorrow that I have, by right is yours, And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. GLOUCESTER The curse my noble father laid on thee, When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes, And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland-- His curses, then from bitterness of soul Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. QUEEN ELIZABETH So just is God, to right the innocent. HASTINGS O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, And the most merciless that e'er was heard of! RIVERS Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. DORSET No man but prophesied revenge for it. BUCKINGHAM Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. QUEEN MARGARET What were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me? Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven? That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, Could all but answer for that peevish brat? Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven? Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses! If not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours by murder, to make him a king! Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales, For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self! Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss; And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him, That none of you may live your natural age, But by some unlook'd accident cut off! GLOUCESTER Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! QUEEN MARGARET And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. If heaven have any grievous plague in store Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe, And then hurl down their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul! Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest, And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity The slave of nature and the son of hell! Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb! Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! Thou rag of honour! thou detested-- GLOUCESTER Margaret. QUEEN MARGARET Richard! GLOUCESTER Ha! QUEEN MARGARET I call thee not. GLOUCESTER I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. QUEEN MARGARET Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply. O, let me make the period to my curse! GLOUCESTER 'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.' QUEEN ELIZABETH Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself. QUEEN MARGARET Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The time will come when thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. HASTINGS False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse, Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. QUEEN MARGARET Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine. RIVERS Were you well served, you would be taught your duty. QUEEN MARGARET To serve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty! DORSET Dispute not with her; she is lunatic. QUEEN MARGARET Peace, master marquess, you are malapert: Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. O, that your young nobility could judge What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable! They that stand high have many blasts to shake them; And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. GLOUCESTER Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess. DORSET It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me. GLOUCESTER Yea, and much more: but I was born so high, Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun. QUEEN MARGARET And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas! Witness my son, now in the shade of death; Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up. Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest. O God, that seest it, do not suffer it! As it was won with blood, lost be it so! BUCKINGHAM Have done! for shame, if not for charity. QUEEN MARGARET Urge neither charity nor shame to me: Uncharitably with me have you dealt, And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage. BUCKINGHAM Have done, have done. QUEEN MARGARET O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand, In sign of league and amity with thee: Now fair befal thee and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse. BUCKINGHAM Nor no one here; for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air. QUEEN MARGARET I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog! Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death: Have not to do with him, beware of him; Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, And all their ministers attend on him. GLOUCESTER What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. QUEEN MARGARET What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, And say poor Margaret was a prophetess! Live each of you the subjects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to God's! Exit HASTINGS My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. RIVERS And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty. GLOUCESTER I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother, She hath had too much wrong; and I repent My part thereof that I have done to her. QUEEN ELIZABETH I never did her any, to my knowledge. GLOUCESTER But you have all the vantage of her wrong. I was too hot to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid, He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains God pardon them that are the cause of it! RIVERS A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion, To pray for them that have done scathe to us. GLOUCESTER So do I ever: Aside being well-advised. For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. Enter CATESBY CATESBY Madam, his majesty doth call for you, And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us? RIVERS Madam, we will attend your grace. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER GLOUCESTER I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulls Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham; And say it is the queen and her allies That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now, they believe it; and withal whet me To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture, Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. Enter two Murderers But, soft! here come my executioners. How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates! Are you now going to dispatch this deed? First Murderer We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant That we may be admitted where he is. GLOUCESTER Well thought upon; I have it here about me. Gives the warrant When you have done, repair to Crosby Place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps May move your hearts to pity if you mark him. First Murderer Tush! Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate; Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues. GLOUCESTER Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears: I like you, lads; about your business straight; Go, go, dispatch. First Murderer We will, my noble lord. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 4 London. The Tower. Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY BRAKENBURY Why looks your grace so heavily today? CLARENCE O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time! BRAKENBURY What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloucester; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England, And cited up a thousand fearful times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea: Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. BRAKENBURY Had you such leisure in the time of death To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? CLARENCE Methought I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast and wandering air; But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. BRAKENBURY Awaked you not with this sore agony? CLARENCE O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O, then began the tempest to my soul, Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?' And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud, 'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury; Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!' With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that with the very noise I trembling waked, and for a season after Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made the dream. BRAKENBURY No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you; I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it. CLARENCE O Brakenbury, I have done those things, Which now bear evidence against my soul, For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me! O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in me alone, O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children! I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. BRAKENBURY I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest! CLARENCE sleeps Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. Princes have but their tides for their glories, An outward honour for an inward toil; And, for unfelt imagination, They often feel a world of restless cares: So that, betwixt their tides and low names, There's nothing differs but the outward fame. Enter the two Murderers First Murderer Ho! who's here? BRAKENBURY In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? First Murderer I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. BRAKENBURY Yea, are you so brief? Second Murderer O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show him our commission; talk no more. BRAKENBURY reads it BRAKENBURY I am, in this, commanded to deliver The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: I will not reason what is meant hereby, Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: I'll to the king; and signify to him That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. First Murderer Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well. Exit BRAKENBURY Second Murderer What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? First Murderer No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. Second Murderer When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till the judgment-day. First Murderer Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping. Second Murderer The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind of remorse in me. First Murderer What, art thou afraid? Second Murderer Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us. First Murderer I thought thou hadst been resolute. Second Murderer So I am, to let him live. First Murderer Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so. Second Murderer I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty. First Murderer How dost thou feel thyself now? Second Murderer 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. First Murderer Remember our reward, when the deed is done. Second Murderer 'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward. First Murderer Where is thy conscience now? Second Murderer In the Duke of Gloucester's purse. First Murderer So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. Second Murderer Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. First Murderer How if it come to thee again? Second Murderer I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him; he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well endeavours to trust to himself and to live without it. First Murderer 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke. Second Murderer Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. First Murderer Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me, I warrant thee. Second Murderer Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his reputation. Come, shall we to this gear? First Murderer Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt in the next room. Second Murderer O excellent devise! make a sop of him. First Murderer Hark! he stirs: shall I strike? Second Murderer No, first let's reason with him. CLARENCE Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. Second murderer You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. CLARENCE In God's name, what art thou? Second Murderer A man, as you are. CLARENCE But not, as I am, royal. Second Murderer Nor you, as we are, loyal. CLARENCE Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. Second Murderer My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own. CLARENCE How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? Both To, to, to-- CLARENCE To murder me? Both Ay, ay. CLARENCE You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? First Murderer Offended us you have not, but the king. CLARENCE I shall be reconciled to him again. Second Murderer Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. CLARENCE Are you call'd forth from out a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where are the evidence that do accuse me? What lawful quest have given their verdict up Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? Before I be convict by course of law, To threaten me with death is most unlawful. I charge you, as you hope to have redemption By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, That you depart and lay no hands on me The deed you undertake is damnable. First Murderer What we will do, we do upon command. Second Murderer And he that hath commanded is the king. CLARENCE Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings Hath in the tables of his law commanded That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then, Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's? Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands, To hurl upon their heads that break his law. Second Murderer And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee, For false forswearing and for murder too: Thou didst receive the holy sacrament, To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster. First Murderer And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. Second Murderer Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend. First Murderer How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, When thou hast broke it in so dear degree? CLARENCE Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs, He sends ye not to murder me for this For in this sin he is as deep as I. If God will be revenged for this deed. O, know you yet, he doth it publicly, Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; He needs no indirect nor lawless course To cut off those that have offended him. First Murderer Who made thee, then, a bloody minister, When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet, That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? CLARENCE My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. First Murderer Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. CLARENCE Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me; I am his brother, and I love him well. If you be hired for meed, go back again, And I will send you to my brother Gloucester, Who shall reward you better for my life Than Edward will for tidings of my death. Second Murderer You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you. CLARENCE O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear: Go you to him from me. Both Ay, so we will. CLARENCE Tell him, when that our princely father York Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, And charged us from his soul to love each other, He little thought of this divided friendship: Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep. First Murderer Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep. CLARENCE O, do not slander him, for he is kind. First Murderer Right, As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself: 'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee. CLARENCE It cannot be; for when I parted with him, He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, That he would labour my delivery. Second Murderer Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven. First Murderer Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. CLARENCE Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, To counsel me to make my peace with God, And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, That thou wilt war with God by murdering me? Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on To do this deed will hate you for the deed. Second Murderer What shall we do? CLARENCE Relent, and save your souls. First Murderer Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish. CLARENCE Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. Which of you, if you were a prince's son, Being pent from liberty, as I am now, if two such murderers as yourselves came to you, Would not entreat for life? My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks: O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, As you would beg, were you in my distress A begging prince what beggar pities not? Second Murderer Look behind you, my lord. First Murderer Take that, and that: if all this will not do, Stabs him I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. Exit, with the body Second Murderer A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd! How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands Of this most grievous guilty murder done! Re-enter First Murderer First Murderer How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art! Second Murderer I would he knew that I had saved his brother! Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; For I repent me that the duke is slain. Exit First Murderer So do not I: go, coward as thou art. Now must I hide his body in some hole, Until the duke take order for his burial: And when I have my meed, I must away; For this will out, and here I must not stay. Act 2, Scene 1 London. The palace. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV sick, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and others KING EDWARD IV Why, so: now have I done a good day's work: You peers, continue this united league: I every day expect an embassage From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven, Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. RIVERS By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate: And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. HASTINGS So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! KING EDWARD IV Take heed you dally not before your king; Lest he that is the supreme King of kings Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Either of you to be the other's end. HASTINGS So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! RIVERS And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! KING EDWARD IV Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; You have been factious one against the other, Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; And what you do, do it unfeignedly. QUEEN ELIZABETH Here, Hastings; I will never more remember Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! KING EDWARD IV Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. DORSET This interchange of love, I here protest, Upon my part shall be unviolable. HASTINGS And so swear I, my lord They embrace KING EDWARD IV Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league With thy embracements to my wife's allies, And make me happy in your unity. BUCKINGHAM Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate On you or yours, To the Queen but with all duteous love Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me With hate in those where I expect most love! When I have most need to employ a friend, And most assured that he is a friend Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, Be he unto me! this do I beg of God, When I am cold in zeal to yours. KING EDWARD IV A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here, To make the perfect period of this peace. BUCKINGHAM And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. Enter GLOUCESTER GLOUCESTER Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen: And, princely peers, a happy time of day! KING EDWARD IV Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. Brother, we done deeds of charity; Made peace enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. GLOUCESTER A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege: Amongst this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, Hold me a foe; If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have aught committed that is hardly borne By any in this presence, I desire To reconcile me to his friendly peace: 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; I hate it, and desire all good men's love. First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my duteous service; Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, If ever any grudge were lodged between us; Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you; That without desert have frown'd on me; Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all. I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born to-night I thank my God for my humility. QUEEN ELIZABETH A holy day shall this be kept hereafter: I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty To take our brother Clarence to your grace. GLOUCESTER Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this To be so bouted in this royal presence? Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? They all start You do him injury to scorn his corse. RIVERS Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? QUEEN ELIZABETH All seeing heaven, what a world is this! BUCKINGHAM Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? DORSET Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. KING EDWARD IV Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed. GLOUCESTER But he, poor soul, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear: Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried. God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion! Enter DERBY DORSET A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! KING EDWARD IV I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. DORSET I will not rise, unless your highness grant. KING EDWARD IV Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. DORSET The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. KING EDWARD IV Have a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall the same give pardon to a slave? My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was cruel death. Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love? Who told me how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'? Who told me, when we both lay in the field Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his own garments, and gave himself, All thin and naked, to the numb cold night? All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind. But when your carters or your waiting-vassals Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced The precious image of our dear Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; And I unjustly too, must grant it you But for my brother not a man would speak, Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all Have been beholding to him in his life; Yet none of you would once plead for his life. O God, I fear thy justice will take hold On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. Oh, poor Clarence! Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET GLOUCESTER This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not How that the guilty kindred of the queen Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? O, they did urge it still unto the king! God will revenge it. But come, let us in, To comfort Edward with our company. BUCKINGHAM We wait upon your grace. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 2 The palace. Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with the two children of CLARENCE Boy Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead? DUCHESS OF YORK No, boy. Boy Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!' Girl Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us wretches, orphans, castaways If that our noble father be alive? DUCHESS OF YORK My pretty cousins, you mistake me much; I do lament the sickness of the king. As loath to lose him, not your father's death; It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost. Boy Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king my uncle is to blame for this: God will revenge it; whom I will importune With daily prayers all to that effect. Girl And so will I. DUCHESS OF YORK Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caused your father's death. Boy Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester Told me, the king, provoked by the queen, Devised impeachments to imprison him : And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; Bade me rely on him as on my father, And he would love me dearly as his child. DUCHESS OF YORK Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! He is my son; yea, and therein my shame; Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. Boy Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? DUCHESS OF YORK Ay, boy. Boy I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her ears; RIVERS, and DORSET after her QUEEN ELIZABETH Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I'll join with black despair against my soul, And to myself become an enemy. DUCHESS OF YORK What means this scene of rude impatience? QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act of tragic violence: Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone? If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow As I had title in thy noble husband! I have bewept a worthy husband's death, And lived by looking on his images: But now two mirrors of his princely semblance Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death, And I for comfort have but one false glass, Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs, Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I, Thine being but a moiety of my grief, To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! Boy Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death; How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Girl Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd; Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! QUEEN ELIZABETH Give me no help in lamentation; I am not barren to bring forth complaints All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being govern'd by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! Children Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! DUCHESS OF YORK Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! QUEEN ELIZABETH What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. Children What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. DUCHESS OF YORK What stays had I but they? and they are gone. QUEEN ELIZABETH Was never widow had so dear a loss! Children Were never orphans had so dear a loss! DUCHESS OF YORK Was never mother had so dear a loss! Alas, I am the mother of these moans! Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: These babes for Clarence weep and so do I; I for an Edward weep, so do not they: Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd, Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentations. DORSET Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased That you take with unthankfulness, his doing: In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, With dull unwilligness to repay a debt Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you. RIVERS Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son: send straight for him Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF GLOUCESTER Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star; But none can cure their harms by wailing them. Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee I crave your blessing. DUCHESS OF YORK God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! GLOUCESTER [Aside] Amen; and make me die a good old man! That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing: I marvel why her grace did leave it out. BUCKINGHAM You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other's love Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. RIVERS Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? BUCKINGHAM Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out, Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd: Where every horse bears his commanding rein, And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented. GLOUCESTER I hope the king made peace with all of us And the compact is firm and true in me. RIVERS And so in me; and so, I think, in all: Yet, since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which haply by much company might be urged: Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. HASTINGS And so say I. GLOUCESTER Then be it so; and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. Madam, and you, my mother, will you go To give your censures in this weighty business? QUEEN ELIZABETH | | With all our harts. DUCHESS OF YORK | Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER BUCKINGHAM My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince, For God's sake, let not us two be behind; For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, As index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the queen's proud kindred from the king. GLOUCESTER My other self, my counsel's consistory, My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin, I, like a child, will go by thy direction. Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 3 London. A street. Enter two Citizens meeting First Citizen Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast? Second Citizen I promise you, I scarcely know myself: Hear you the news abroad? First Citizen Ay, that the king is dead. Second Citizen Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world. Enter another Citizen Third Citizen Neighbours, God speed! First Citizen Give you good morrow, sir. Third Citizen Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death? Second Citizen Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! Third Citizen Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. First Citizen No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign. Third Citizen Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child! Second Citizen In him there is a hope of government, That in his nonage council under him, And in his full and ripen'd years himself, No doubt, shall then and till then govern well. First Citizen So stood the state when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. Third Citizen Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot; For then this land was famously enrich'd With politic grave counsel; then the king Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. First Citizen Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother. Third Citizen Better it were they all came by the father, Or by the father there were none at all; For emulation now, who shall be nearest, Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester! And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud: And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before. First Citizen Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well. Third Citizen When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth. All may be well; but, if God sort it so, 'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. Second Citizen Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear. Third Citizen Before the times of change, still is it so: By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see The waters swell before a boisterous storm. But leave it all to God. whither away? Second Citizen Marry, we were sent for to the justices. Third Citizen And so was I: I'll bear you company. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 4 London. The palace. Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, young YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night: To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. DUCHESS OF YORK I long with all my heart to see the prince: I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. QUEEN ELIZABETH But I hear, no; they say my son of York Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. YORK Ay, mother; but I would not have it so. DUCHESS OF YORK Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. YORK Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester, 'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. DUCHESS OF YORK Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee; He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, So long a-growing and so leisurely, That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious. ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is. DUCHESS OF YORK I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. YORK Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. DUCHESS OF YORK How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it. YORK Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. DUCHESS OF YORK I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? YORK Grandam, his nurse. DUCHESS OF YORK His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born. YORK If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. QUEEN ELIZABETH A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Good madam, be not angry with the child. QUEEN ELIZABETH Pitchers have ears. Enter a Messenger ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Here comes a messenger. What news? Messenger Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. QUEEN ELIZABETH How fares the prince? Messenger Well, madam, and in health. DUCHESS OF YORK What is thy news then? Messenger Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. DUCHESS OF YORK Who hath committed them? Messenger The mighty dukes Gloucester and Buckingham. QUEEN ELIZABETH For what offence? Messenger The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; Why or for what these nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. QUEEN ELIZABETH Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jet Upon the innocent and aweless throne: Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! I see, as in a map, the end of all. DUCHESS OF YORK Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld! My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were toss'd, For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors. Make war upon themselves; blood against blood, Self against self: O, preposterous And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; Or let me die, to look on death no more! QUEEN ELIZABETH Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary. Madam, farewell. DUCHESS OF YORK I'll go along with you. QUEEN ELIZABETH You have no cause. ARCHBISHOP OF YORK My gracious lady, go; And thither bear your treasure and your goods. For my part, I'll resign unto your grace The seal I keep: and so betide to me As well I tender you and all of yours! Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 1 London. A street. The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, and others BUCKINGHAM Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. GLOUCESTER Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign The weary way hath made you melancholy. PRINCE EDWARD No, uncle; but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy I want more uncles here to welcome me. GLOUCESTER Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit Nor more can you distinguish of a man Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. Those uncles which you want were dangerous; Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : God keep you from them, and from such false friends! PRINCE EDWARD God keep me from false friends! but they were none. GLOUCESTER My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. Enter the Lord Mayor and his train Lord Mayor God bless your grace with health and happy days! PRINCE EDWARD I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all. I thought my mother, and my brother York, Would long ere this have met us on the way Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no! Enter HASTINGS BUCKINGHAM And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord. PRINCE EDWARD Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? HASTINGS On what occasion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld. BUCKINGHAM Fie, what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York Unto his princely brother presently? If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. CARDINAL My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. BUCKINGHAM You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserved the place, And those who have the wit to claim the place: This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it; And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: Then, taking him from thence that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there. Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; But sanctuary children ne'er till now. CARDINAL My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me? HASTINGS I go, my lord. PRINCE EDWARD Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? GLOUCESTER Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. PRINCE EDWARD I do not like the Tower, of any place. Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? BUCKINGHAM He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. PRINCE EDWARD Is it upon record, or else reported Successively from age to age, he built it? BUCKINGHAM Upon record, my gracious lord. PRINCE EDWARD But say, my lord, it were not register'd, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day. GLOUCESTER [Aside] So wise so young, they say, do never live long. PRINCE EDWARD What say you, uncle? GLOUCESTER I say, without characters, fame lives long. Aside Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, I moralize two meanings in one word. PRINCE EDWARD That Julius Caesar was a famous man; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; For now he lives in fame, though not in life. I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,-- BUCKINGHAM What, my gracious lord? PRINCE EDWARD An if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again, Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. GLOUCESTER [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL BUCKINGHAM Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York. PRINCE EDWARD Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? YORK Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. PRINCE EDWARD Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours: Too late he died that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty. GLOUCESTER How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? YORK I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. GLOUCESTER He hath, my lord. YORK And therefore is he idle? GLOUCESTER O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. YORK Then is he more beholding to you than I. GLOUCESTER He may command me as my sovereign; But you have power in me as in a kinsman. YORK I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. GLOUCESTER My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. PRINCE EDWARD A beggar, brother? YORK Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. GLOUCESTER A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. YORK A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it. GLOUCESTER A gentle cousin, were it light enough. YORK O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts; In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. GLOUCESTER It is too heavy for your grace to wear. YORK I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. GLOUCESTER What, would you have my weapon, little lord? YORK I would, that I might thank you as you call me. GLOUCESTER How? YORK Little. PRINCE EDWARD My Lord of York will still be cross in talk: Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. YORK You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me: Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; Because that I am little, like an ape, He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. BUCKINGHAM With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, He prettily and aptly taunts himself: So cunning and so young is wonderful. GLOUCESTER My lord, will't please you pass along? Myself and my good cousin Buckingham Will to your mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower and welcome you. YORK What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord? PRINCE EDWARD My lord protector needs will have it so. YORK I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. GLOUCESTER Why, what should you fear? YORK Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost: My grandam told me he was murdered there. PRINCE EDWARD I fear no uncles dead. GLOUCESTER Nor none that live, I hope. PRINCE EDWARD An if they live, I hope I need not fear. But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. A Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY BUCKINGHAM Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incensed by his subtle mother To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? GLOUCESTER No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy; Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable He is all the mother's, from the top to toe. BUCKINGHAM Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby. Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend As closely to conceal what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way; What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, For the instalment of this noble duke In the seat royal of this famous isle? CATESBY He for his father's sake so loves the prince, That he will not be won to aught against him. BUCKINGHAM What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he? CATESBY He will do all in all as Hastings doth. BUCKINGHAM Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings, How doth he stand affected to our purpose; And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, To sit about the coronation. If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him, and show him all our reasons: If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, Be thou so too; and so break off your talk, And give us notice of his inclination: For we to-morrow hold divided councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. GLOUCESTER Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; And bid my friend, for joy of this good news, Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. BUCKINGHAM Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. CATESBY My good lords both, with all the heed I may. GLOUCESTER Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? CATESBY You shall, my lord. GLOUCESTER At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both. Exit CATESBY BUCKINGHAM Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? GLOUCESTER Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do: And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd. BUCKINGHAM I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands. GLOUCESTER And look to have it yielded with all willingness. Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards We may digest our complots in some form. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 2 Before Lord Hastings' house. Enter a Messenger Messenger What, ho! my lord! HASTINGS [Within] Who knocks at the door? Messenger A messenger from the Lord Stanley. Enter HASTINGS HASTINGS What is't o'clock? Messenger Upon the stroke of four. HASTINGS Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights? Messenger So it should seem by that I have to say. First, he commends him to your noble lordship. HASTINGS And then? Messenger And then he sends you word He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm: Besides, he says there are two councils held; And that may be determined at the one which may make you and him to rue at the other. Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure, If presently you will take horse with him, And with all speed post with him toward the north, To shun the danger that his soul divines. HASTINGS Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; Bid him not fear the separated councils His honour and myself are at the one, And at the other is my servant Catesby Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us Whereof I shall not have intelligence. Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance: And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers To fly the boar before the boar pursues, Were to incense the boar to follow us And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. Go, bid thy master rise and come to me And we will both together to the Tower, Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. Messenger My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say. Exit Enter CATESBY CATESBY Many good morrows to my noble lord! HASTINGS Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring What news, what news, in this our tottering state? CATESBY It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; And I believe twill never stand upright Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm. HASTINGS How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown? CATESBY Ay, my good lord. HASTINGS I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? CATESBY Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward Upon his party for the gain thereof: And thereupon he sends you this good news, That this same very day your enemies, The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. HASTINGS Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still mine enemies: But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side, To bar my master's heirs in true descent, God knows I will not do it, to the death. CATESBY God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! HASTINGS But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, That they who brought me in my master's hate I live to look upon their tragedy. I tell thee, Catesby-- CATESBY What, my lord? HASTINGS Ere a fortnight make me elder, I'll send some packing that yet think not on it. CATESBY 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepared and look not for it. HASTINGS O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do With some men else, who think themselves as safe As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear To princely Richard and to Buckingham. CATESBY The princes both make high account of you; Aside For they account his head upon the bridge. HASTINGS I know they do; and I have well deserved it. Enter STANLEY Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man? Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? STANLEY My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby: You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, I do not like these several councils, I. HASTINGS My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours; And never in my life, I do protest, Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: Think you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? STANLEY The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust; But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast. This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt: Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. HASTINGS Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord? To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. LORD STANLEY They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accused them wear their hats. But come, my lord, let us away. Enter a Pursuivant HASTINGS Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow. Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee? Pursuivant The better that your lordship please to ask. HASTINGS I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now Than when I met thee last where now we meet: Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the queen's allies; But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself-- This day those enemies are put to death, And I in better state than e'er I was. Pursuivant God hold it, to your honour's good content! HASTINGS Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me. Throws him his purse Pursuivant God save your lordship! Exit Enter a Priest Priest Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. HASTINGS I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart. I am in your debt for your last exercise; Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. He whispers in his ear Enter BUCKINGHAM BUCKINGHAM What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. HASTINGS Good faith, and when I met this holy man, Those men you talk of came into my mind. What, go you toward the Tower? BUCKINGHAM I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay I shall return before your lordship thence. HASTINGS 'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there. BUCKINGHAM [Aside] And supper too, although thou know'st it not. Come, will you go? HASTINGS I'll wait upon your lordship. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 3 Pomfret Castle. Enter RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to death RATCLIFF Come, bring forth the prisoners. RIVERS Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: To-day shalt thou behold a subject die For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. GREY God keep the prince from all the pack of you! A knot you are of damned blood-suckers! VAUGHAN You live that shall cry woe for this after. RATCLIFF Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. RIVERS O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Within the guilty closure of thy walls Richard the second here was hack'd to death; And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. GREY Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. RIVERS Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham, Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God To hear her prayers for them, as now for us And for my sister and her princely sons, Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. RATCLIFF Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. RIVERS Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace: And take our leave, until we meet in heaven. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 4 The Tower of London. Enter BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, with others, and take their seats at a table HASTINGS My lords, at once: the cause why we are met Is, to determine of the coronation. In God's name, speak: when is the royal day? BUCKINGHAM Are all things fitting for that royal time? DERBY It is, and wants but nomination. BISHOP OF ELY To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day. BUCKINGHAM Who knows the lord protector's mind herein? Who is most inward with the royal duke? BISHOP OF ELY Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. BUCKINGHAM Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces, But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine, Than I of yours; Nor I no more of his, than you of mine. Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. HASTINGS I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; But, for his purpose in the coronation. I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd His gracious pleasure any way therein: But you, my noble lords, may name the time; And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. Enter GLOUCESTER BISHOP OF ELY Now in good time, here comes the duke himself. GLOUCESTER My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope, My absence doth neglect no great designs, Which by my presence might have been concluded. BUCKINGHAM Had not you come upon your cue, my lord William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,-- I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king. GLOUCESTER Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. HASTINGS I thank your grace. GLOUCESTER My lord of Ely! BISHOP OF ELY My lord? GLOUCESTER When I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there I do beseech you send for some of them. BISHOP OF ELY Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. Exit GLOUCESTER Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Drawing him aside Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business, And finds the testy gentleman so hot, As he will lose his head ere give consent His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it, Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. BUCKINGHAM Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you. Exit GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM following DERBY We have not yet set down this day of triumph. To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; For I myself am not so well provided As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY BISHOP OF ELY Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these strawberries. HASTINGS His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day; There's some conceit or other likes him well, When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit. I think there's never a man in Christendom That can less hide his love or hate than he; For by his face straight shall you know his heart. DERBY What of his heart perceive you in his face By any likelihood he show'd to-day? HASTINGS Marry, that with no man here he is offended; For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. DERBY I pray God he be not, I say. Re-enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM GLOUCESTER I pray you all, tell me what they deserve That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd Upon my body with their hellish charms? HASTINGS The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, Makes me most forward in this noble presence To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be I say, my lord, they have deserved death. GLOUCESTER Then be your eyes the witness of this ill: See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up: And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. HASTINGS If they have done this thing, my gracious lord-- GLOUCESTER If I thou protector of this damned strumpet-- Tellest thou me of 'ifs'? Thou art a traitor: Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear, I will not dine until I see the same. Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. Exeunt all but HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and LOVEL HASTINGS Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me; For I, too fond, might have prevented this. Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm; But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly: Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. O, now I want the priest that spake to me: I now repent I told the pursuivant As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies, How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I myself secure in grace and favour. O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head! RATCLIFF Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner: Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head. HASTINGS O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. LOVEL Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. HASTINGS O bloody Richard! miserable England! I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head. They smile at me that shortly shall be dead. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 5 The Tower-walls. Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured GLOUCESTER Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour, Murder thy breath in the middle of a word, And then begin again, and stop again, As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror? BUCKINGHAM Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; Speak and look back, and pry on every side, Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles; And both are ready in their offices, At any time, to grace my stratagems. But what, is Catesby gone? GLOUCESTER He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY BUCKINGHAM Lord mayor,-- GLOUCESTER Look to the drawbridge there! BUCKINGHAM Hark! a drum. GLOUCESTER Catesby, o'erlook the walls. BUCKINGHAM Lord mayor, the reason we have sent-- GLOUCESTER Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. BUCKINGHAM God and our innocency defend and guard us! GLOUCESTER Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel. Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head LOVEL Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. GLOUCESTER So dear I loved the man, that I must weep. I took him for the plainest harmless creature That breathed upon this earth a Christian; Made him my book wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts: So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, That, his apparent open guilt omitted, I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, He lived from all attainder of suspect. BUCKINGHAM Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor That ever lived. Would you imagine, or almost believe, Were't not that, by great preservation, We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor This day had plotted, in the council-house To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester? Lord Mayor What, had he so? GLOUCESTER What, think You we are Turks or infidels? Or that we would, against the form of law, Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death, But that the extreme peril of the case, The peace of England and our persons' safety, Enforced us to this execution? Lord Mayor Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death; And you my good lords, both have well proceeded, To warn false traitors from the like attempts. I never look'd for better at his hands, After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. GLOUCESTER Yet had not we determined he should die, Until your lordship came to see his death; Which now the loving haste of these our friends, Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented: Because, my lord, we would have had you heard The traitor speak, and timorously confess The manner and the purpose of his treason; That you might well have signified the same Unto the citizens, who haply may Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. Lord Mayor But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve, As well as I had seen and heard him speak And doubt you not, right noble princes both, But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens With all your just proceedings in this cause. GLOUCESTER And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here, To avoid the carping censures of the world. BUCKINGHAM But since you come too late of our intents, Yet witness what you hear we did intend: And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. Exit Lord Mayor GLOUCESTER Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham. The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post: There, at your meet'st advantage of the time, Infer the bastardy of Edward's children: Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen, Only for saying he would make his son Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house, Which, by the sign thereof was termed so. Moreover, urge his hateful luxury And bestial appetite in change of lust; Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives, Even where his lustful eye or savage heart, Without control, listed to make his prey. Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person: Tell them, when that my mother went with child Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York My princely father then had wars in France And, by just computation of the time, Found that the issue was not his begot; Which well appeared in his lineaments, Being nothing like the noble duke my father: But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off, Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. BUCKINGHAM Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator As if the golden fee for which I plead Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. GLOUCESTER If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; Where you shall find me well accompanied With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops. BUCKINGHAM I go: and towards three or four o'clock Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. Exit BUCKINGHAM GLOUCESTER Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw; To CATESBY Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER Now will I in, to take some privy order, To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; And to give notice, that no manner of person At any time have recourse unto the princes. Exit Act 3, Scene 6 The same. Enter a Scrivener, with a paper in his hand Scrivener This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, That it may be this day read over in Paul's. And mark how well the sequel hangs together: Eleven hours I spent to write it over, For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me; The precedent was full as long a-doing: And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings, Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross, That seeth not this palpable device? Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, When such bad dealings must be seen in thought. Exit Act 3, Scene 7 Baynard's Castle. Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors GLOUCESTER How now, my lord, what say the citizens? BUCKINGHAM Now, by the holy mother of our Lord, The citizens are mum and speak not a word. GLOUCESTER Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? BUCKINGHAM I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France; The insatiate greediness of his desires, And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy, As being got, your father then in France, His resemblance, being not like the duke; Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind; Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility: Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse And when mine oratory grew to an end I bid them that did love their country's good Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!' GLOUCESTER Ah! and did they so? BUCKINGHAM No, so God help me, they spake not a word; But, like dumb statues or breathing stones, Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale. Which when I saw, I reprehended them; And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence: His answer was, the people were not wont To be spoke to but by the recorder. Then he was urged to tell my tale again, 'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;' But nothing spake in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!' And thus I took the vantage of those few, 'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; 'This general applause and loving shout Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:' And even here brake off, and came away. GLOUCESTER What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak? BUCKINGHAM No, by my troth, my lord. GLOUCESTER Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? BUCKINGHAM The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear; Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; For on that ground I'll build a holy descant: And be not easily won to our request: Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. GLOUCESTER I go; and if you plead as well for them As I can say nay to thee for myself, No doubt well bring it to a happy issue. BUCKINGHAM Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. Exit GLOUCESTER Enter the Lord Mayor and Citizens Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here; I think the duke will not be spoke withal. Enter CATESBY Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby, What says he? CATESBY My lord: he doth entreat your grace; To visit him to-morrow or next day: He is within, with two right reverend fathers, Divinely bent to meditation; And no worldly suit would he be moved, To draw him from his holy exercise. BUCKINGHAM Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again; Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens, In deep designs and matters of great moment, No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his grace. CATESBY I'll tell him what you say, my lord. Exit BUCKINGHAM Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, But meditating with two deep divines; Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: Happy were England, would this gracious prince Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. Lord Mayor Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay! BUCKINGHAM I fear he will. Re-enter CATESBY How now, Catesby, what says your lord? CATESBY My lord, He wonders to what end you have assembled Such troops of citizens to speak with him, His grace not being warn'd thereof before: My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. BUCKINGHAM Sorry I am my noble cousin should Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: By heaven, I come in perfect love to him; And so once more return and tell his grace. Exit CATESBY When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence, So sweet is zealous contemplation. Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two Bishops. CATESBY returns Lord Mayor See, where he stands between two clergymen! BUCKINGHAM Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity: And, see, a book of prayer in his hand, True ornaments to know a holy man. Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ears to our request; And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. GLOUCESTER My lord, there needs no such apology: I rather do beseech you pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Neglect the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? BUCKINGHAM Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. GLOUCESTER I do suspect I have done some offence That seems disgracious in the city's eyes, And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. BUCKINGHAM You have, my lord: would it might please your grace, At our entreaties, to amend that fault! GLOUCESTER Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? BUCKINGHAM Then know, it is your fault that you resign The supreme seat, the throne majestical, The scepter'd office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune and your due of birth, The lineal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemished stock: Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, Which here we waken to our country's good, This noble isle doth want her proper limbs; Her face defaced with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. Which to recure, we heartily solicit Your gracious self to take on you the charge And kingly government of this your land, Not as protector, steward, substitute, Or lowly factor for another's gain; But as successively from blood to blood, Your right of birth, your empery, your own. For this, consorted with the citizens, Your very worshipful and loving friends, And by their vehement instigation, In this just suit come I to move your grace. GLOUCESTER I know not whether to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. Best fitteth my degree or your condition If not to answer, you might haply think Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me; If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your faithful love to me. Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends. Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first, And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, Definitively thus I answer you. Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert Unmeritable shuns your high request. First if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As my ripe revenue and due by birth Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me, And much I need to help you, if need were; The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, Will well become the seat of majesty, And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. On him I lay what you would lay on me, The right and fortune of his happy stars; Which God defend that I should wring from him! BUCKINGHAM My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, All circumstances well considered. You say that Edward is your brother's son: So say we too, but not by Edward's wife; For first he was contract to Lady Lucy-- Your mother lives a witness to that vow-- And afterward by substitute betroth'd To Bona, sister to the King of France. These both put by a poor petitioner, A care-crazed mother of a many children, A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye, Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts To base declension and loathed bigamy By her, in his unlawful bed, he got This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue. Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This proffer'd benefit of dignity; If non to bless us and the land withal, Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing times, Unto a lineal true-derived course. Lord Mayor Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you. BUCKINGHAM Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. CATESBY O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! GLOUCESTER Alas, why would you heap these cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty; I do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot nor I will not yield to you. BUCKINGHAM If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son; As well we know your tenderness of heart And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, Which we have noted in you to your kin, And egally indeed to all estates,-- Yet whether you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house: And in this resolution here we leave you.-- Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more. GLOUCESTER O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. Exit BUCKINGHAM with the Citizens CATESBY Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit. ANOTHER Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it. GLOUCESTER Would you enforce me to a world of care? Well, call them again. I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your. kind entreats, Albeit against my conscience and my soul. Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burthen, whether I will or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For God he knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire thereof. Lord Mayor God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. GLOUCESTER In saying so, you shall but say the truth. BUCKINGHAM Then I salute you with this kingly title: Long live Richard, England's royal king! Lord Mayor | | Amen. Citizens | BUCKINGHAM To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd? GLOUCESTER Even when you please, since you will have it so. BUCKINGHAM To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace: And so most joyfully we take our leave. GLOUCESTER Come, let us to our holy task again. Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 1 Before the Tower. Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF YORK, and DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of Gloucester, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet, CLARENCE's young Daughter DUCHESS OF YORK Who meets us here? my niece Plantagenet Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester? Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes. Daughter, well met. LADY ANNE God give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day! QUEEN ELIZABETH As much to you, good sister! Whither away? LADY ANNE No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. QUEEN ELIZABETH Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together. Enter BRAKENBURY And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, How doth the prince, and my young son of York? BRAKENBURY Right well, dear madam. By your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them; The king hath straitly charged the contrary. QUEEN ELIZABETH The king! why, who's that? BRAKENBURY I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector. QUEEN ELIZABETH The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me? I am their mother; who should keep me from them? DUCHESS OF YORK I am their fathers mother; I will see them. LADY ANNE Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother: Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame And take thy office from thee, on my peril. BRAKENBURY No, madam, no; I may not leave it so: I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. Exit Enter LORD STANLEY LORD STANLEY Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. To LADY ANNE Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. QUEEN ELIZABETH O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon With this dead-killing news! LADY ANNE Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news! DORSET Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace? QUEEN ELIZABETH O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence! Death and destruction dog thee at the heels; Thy mother's name is ominous to children. If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead; And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. LORD STANLEY Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam. Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son To meet you on the way, and welcome you. Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. DUCHESS OF YORK O ill-dispersing wind of misery! O my accursed womb, the bed of death! A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous. LORD STANLEY Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. LADY ANNE And I in all unwillingness will go. I would to God that the inclusive verge Of golden metal that must round my brow Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom, And die, ere men can say, God save the queen! QUEEN ELIZABETH Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. LADY ANNE No! why? When he that is my husband now Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse, When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands Which issued from my other angel husband And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed, For making me, so young, so old a widow! And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed; And be thy wife--if any be so mad-- As miserable by the life of thee As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death! Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Even in so short a space, my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words And proved the subject of my own soul's curse, Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; For never yet one hour in his bed Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep, But have been waked by his timorous dreams. Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. QUEEN ELIZABETH Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. LADY ANNE No more than from my soul I mourn for yours. QUEEN ELIZABETH Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! LADY ANNE Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it! DUCHESS OF YORK [To DORSET] Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee! To LADY ANNE Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee! To QUEEN ELIZABETH Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee! I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen. QUEEN ELIZABETH Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower. Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes Whom envy hath immured within your walls! Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow For tender princes, use my babies well! So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 2 London. The palace. Sennet. Enter KING RICHARD III, in pomp, crowned; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a page, and others KING RICHARD III Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham! BUCKINGHAM My gracious sovereign? KING RICHARD III Give me thy hand. Here he ascendeth his throne Thus high, by thy advice And thy assistance, is King Richard seated; But shall we wear these honours for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? BUCKINGHAM Still live they and for ever may they last! KING RICHARD III O Buckingham, now do I play the touch, To try if thou be current gold indeed Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. BUCKINGHAM Say on, my loving lord. KING RICHARD III Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king, BUCKINGHAM Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege. KING RICHARD III Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives. BUCKINGHAM True, noble prince. KING RICHARD III O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!' Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull: Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly perform'd. What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief. BUCKINGHAM Your grace may do your pleasure. KING RICHARD III Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth: Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? BUCKINGHAM Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord Before I positively herein: I will resolve your grace immediately. Exit CATESBY [Aside to a stander by] The king is angry: see, he bites the lip. KING RICHARD III I will converse with iron-witted fools And unrespective boys: none are for me That look into me with considerate eyes: High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. Boy! Page My lord? KING RICHARD III Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? Page My lord, I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. KING RICHARD III What is his name? Page His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. KING RICHARD III I partly know the man: go, call him hither. Exit Page The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: Hath he so long held out with me untired, And stops he now for breath? Enter STANLEY How now! what news with you? STANLEY My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea Where he abides. Stands apart KING RICHARD III Catesby! CATESBY My lord? KING RICHARD III Rumour it abroad That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: About it; for it stands me much upon, To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. Exit CATESBY I must be married to my brother's daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. Murder her brothers, and then marry her! Uncertain way of gain! But I am in So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin: Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. Re-enter Page, with TYRREL Is thy name Tyrrel? TYRREL James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. KING RICHARD III Art thou, indeed? TYRREL Prove me, my gracious sovereign. KING RICHARD III Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? TYRREL Ay, my lord; But I had rather kill two enemies. KING RICHARD III Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies, Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers Are they that I would have thee deal upon: Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. TYRREL Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. KING RICHARD III Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: Whispers There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee too. TYRREL 'Tis done, my gracious lord. KING RICHARD III Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep? TYRREL Ye shall, my Lord. Exit Re-enter BUCKINGHAM BUCKINGHAM My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in. KING RICHARD III Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond. BUCKINGHAM I hear that news, my lord. KING RICHARD III Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it. BUCKINGHAM My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford and the moveables The which you promised I should possess. KING RICHARD III Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. BUCKINGHAM What says your highness to my just demand? KING RICHARD III As I remember, Henry the Sixth Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king, perhaps, perhaps,-- BUCKINGHAM My lord! KING RICHARD III How chance the prophet could not at that time Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? BUCKINGHAM My lord, your promise for the earldom,-- KING RICHARD III Richmond! When last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started, Because a bard of Ireland told me once I should not live long after I saw Richmond. BUCKINGHAM My Lord! KING RICHARD III Ay, what's o'clock? BUCKINGHAM I am thus bold to put your grace in mind Of what you promised me. KING RICHARD III Well, but what's o'clock? BUCKINGHAM Upon the stroke of ten. KING RICHARD III Well, let it strike. BUCKINGHAM Why let it strike? KING RICHARD III Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day. BUCKINGHAM Why, then resolve me whether you will or no. KING RICHARD III Tut, tut, Thou troublest me; am not in the vein. Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM BUCKINGHAM Is it even so? rewards he my true service With such deep contempt made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on! Exit Act 4, Scene 3 The same. Enter TYRREL TYRREL The tyrannous and bloody deed is done. The most arch of piteous massacre That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this ruthless piece of butchery, Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and kind compassion Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories. 'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:' 'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another Within their innocent alabaster arms: Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay; Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind; But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That from the prime creation e'er she framed.' Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse; They could not speak; and so I left them both, To bring this tidings to the bloody king. And here he comes. Enter KING RICHARD III All hail, my sovereign liege! KING RICHARD III Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news? TYRREL If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then, For it is done, my lord. KING RICHARD III But didst thou see them dead? TYRREL I did, my lord. KING RICHARD III And buried, gentle Tyrrel? TYRREL The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; But how or in what place I do not know. KING RICHARD III Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper, And thou shalt tell the process of their death. Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell till soon. Exit TYRREL The son of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown, To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer. Enter CATESBY CATESBY My lord! KING RICHARD III Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly? CATESBY Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. KING RICHARD III Ely with Richmond troubles me more near Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army. Come, I have heard that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; We must be brief when traitors brave the field. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 4 Before the palace. Enter QUEEN MARGARET QUEEN MARGARET So, now prosperity begins to mellow And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine adversaries. A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here? Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings And hear your mother's lamentation! QUEEN MARGARET Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. DUCHESS OF YORK So many miseries have crazed my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? QUEEN MARGARET Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. QUEEN ELIZABETH Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done? QUEEN MARGARET When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. DUCHESS OF YORK Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, Sitting down Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! QUEEN ELIZABETH O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat! Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. O, who hath any cause to mourn but I? Sitting down by her QUEEN MARGARET If ancient sorrow be most reverend, Give mine the benefit of seniory, And let my woes frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society, Sitting down with them Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; DUCHESS OF YORK I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. QUEEN MARGARET Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death: That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood, That foul defacer of God's handiwork, That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. O upright, just, and true-disposing God, How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur Preys on the issue of his mother's body, And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan! DUCHESS OF YORK O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes! God witness with me, I have wept for thine. QUEEN MARGARET Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward: Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot, because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss: Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragic play, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer, Only reserved their factor, to buy souls And send them thither: but at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray. To have him suddenly convey'd away. Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, That I may live to say, The dog is dead! QUEEN ELIZABETH O, thou didst prophesy the time would come That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad! QUEEN MARGARET I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune; I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen; The presentation of but what I was; The flattering index of a direful pageant; One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below; A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes; A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble, A sign of dignity, a garish flag, To be the aim of every dangerous shot, A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy? Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'? Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art: For happy wife, a most distressed widow; For joyful mother, one that wails the name; For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; For one commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time; Having no more but thought of what thou wert, To torture thee the more, being what thou art. Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke; From which even here I slip my weary neck, And leave the burthen of it all on thee. Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: These English woes will make me smile in France. QUEEN ELIZABETH O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile, And teach me how to curse mine enemies! QUEEN MARGARET Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days; Compare dead happiness with living woe; Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, And he that slew them fouler than he is: Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse: Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. QUEEN ELIZABETH My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine! QUEEN MARGARET Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. Exit DUCHESS OF YORK Why should calamity be full of words? QUEEN ELIZABETH Windy attorneys to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries! Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help not all, yet do they ease the heart. DUCHESS OF YORK If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me. And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd. I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims. Enter KING RICHARD III, marching, with drums and trumpets KING RICHARD III Who intercepts my expedition? DUCHESS OF YORK O, she that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her accursed womb From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done! QUEEN ELIZABETH Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown, Where should be graven, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown, And the dire death of my two sons and brothers? Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children? DUCHESS OF YORK Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? QUEEN ELIZABETH Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? KING RICHARD III A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say! Flourish. Alarums Either be patient, and entreat me fair, Or with the clamorous report of war Thus will I drown your exclamations. DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou my son? KING RICHARD III Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself. DUCHESS OF YORK Then patiently hear my impatience. KING RICHARD III Madam, I have a touch of your condition, Which cannot brook the accent of reproof. DUCHESS OF YORK O, let me speak! KING RICHARD III Do then: but I'll not hear. DUCHESS OF YORK I will be mild and gentle in my speech. KING RICHARD III And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. DUCHESS OF YORK Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee, God knows, in anguish, pain and agony. KING RICHARD III And came I not at last to comfort you? DUCHESS OF YORK No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burthen was thy birth to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious, Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous, Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody, treacherous, More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: What comfortable hour canst thou name, That ever graced me in thy company? KING RICHARD III Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace To breakfast once forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your sight, Let me march on, and not offend your grace. Strike the drum. DUCHESS OF YORK I prithee, hear me speak. KING RICHARD III You speak too bitterly. DUCHESS OF YORK Hear me a word; For I shall never speak to thee again. KING RICHARD III So. DUCHESS OF YORK Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish And never look upon thy face again. Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies And promise them success and victory. Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me; I say amen to all. KING RICHARD III Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you. QUEEN ELIZABETH I have no more sons of the royal blood For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives. KING RICHARD III You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. QUEEN ELIZABETH And must she die for this? O, let her live, And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; Slander myself as false to Edward's bed; Throw over her the veil of infamy: So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. KING RICHARD III Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. QUEEN ELIZABETH To save her life, I'll say she is not so. KING RICHARD III Her life is only safest in her birth. QUEEN ELIZABETH And only in that safety died her brothers. KING RICHARD III Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. QUEEN ELIZABETH No, to their lives bad friends were contrary. KING RICHARD III All unavoided is the doom of destiny. QUEEN ELIZABETH True, when avoided grace makes destiny: My babes were destined to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. KING RICHARD III You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. QUEEN ELIZABETH Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts, Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To revel in the entrails of my lambs. But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; And I, in such a desperate bay of death, Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. KING RICHARD III Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise And dangerous success of bloody wars, As I intend more good to you and yours, Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd! QUEEN ELIZABETH What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, To be discover'd, that can do me good? KING RICHARD III The advancement of your children, gentle lady. QUEEN ELIZABETH Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? KING RICHARD III No, to the dignity and height of honour The high imperial type of this earth's glory. QUEEN ELIZABETH Flatter my sorrows with report of it; Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine? KING RICHARD III Even all I have; yea, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine; So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs Which thou supposest I have done to thee. QUEEN ELIZABETH Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. KING RICHARD III Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. QUEEN ELIZABETH My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. KING RICHARD III What do you think? QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. KING RICHARD III Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, And mean to make her queen of England. QUEEN ELIZABETH Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? KING RICHARD III Even he that makes her queen who should be else? QUEEN ELIZABETH What, thou? KING RICHARD III I, even I: what think you of it, madam? QUEEN ELIZABETH How canst thou woo her? KING RICHARD III That would I learn of you, As one that are best acquainted with her humour. QUEEN ELIZABETH And wilt thou learn of me? KING RICHARD III Madam, with all my heart. QUEEN ELIZABETH Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave Edward and York; then haply she will weep: Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain The purple sap from her sweet brother's body And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith. If this inducement force her not to love, Send her a story of thy noble acts; Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence, Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake, Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. KING RICHARD III Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way To win our daughter. QUEEN ELIZABETH There is no other way Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, And not be Richard that hath done all this. KING RICHARD III Say that I did all this for love of her. QUEEN ELIZABETH Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. KING RICHARD III Look, what is done cannot be now amended: Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, Which after hours give leisure to repent. If I did take the kingdom from your sons, To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter. If I have kill'd the issue of your womb, To quicken your increase, I will beget Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter A grandam's name is little less in love Than is the doting title of a mother; They are as children but one step below, Even of your mettle, of your very blood; Of an one pain, save for a night of groans Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Your children were vexation to your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your age. The loss you have is but a son being king, And by that loss your daughter is made queen. I cannot make you what amends I would, Therefore accept such kindness as I can. Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, This fair alliance quickly shall call home To high promotions and great dignity: The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife. Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother; Again shall you be mother to a king, And all the ruins of distressful times Repair'd with double riches of content. What! we have many goodly days to see: The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, Advantaging their loan with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness. Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys And when this arm of mine hath chastised The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with triumphant garlands will I come And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; To whom I will retail my conquest won, And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. QUEEN ELIZABETH What were I best to say? her father's brother Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle? Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? Under what title shall I woo for thee, That God, the law, my honour and her love, Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? KING RICHARD III Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. QUEEN ELIZABETH Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. KING RICHARD III Say that the king, which may command, entreats. QUEEN ELIZABETH That at her hands which the king's King forbids. KING RICHARD III Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. QUEEN ELIZABETH To wail the tide, as her mother doth. KING RICHARD III Say, I will love her everlastingly. QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long shall that title 'ever' last? KING RICHARD III Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. QUEEN ELIZABETH But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last? KING RICHARD III So long as heaven and nature lengthens it. QUEEN ELIZABETH So long as hell and Richard likes of it. KING RICHARD III Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love. QUEEN ELIZABETH But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. KING RICHARD III Be eloquent in my behalf to her. QUEEN ELIZABETH An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. KING RICHARD III Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale. QUEEN ELIZABETH Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. KING RICHARD III Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. QUEEN ELIZABETH O no, my reasons are too deep and dead; Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. KING RICHARD III Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. QUEEN ELIZABETH Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. KING RICHARD III Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. KING RICHARD III I swear-- QUEEN ELIZABETH By nothing; for this is no oath: The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory. if something thou wilt swear to be believed, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. KING RICHARD III Now, by the world-- QUEEN ELIZABETH 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. KING RICHARD III My father's death-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Thy life hath that dishonour'd. KING RICHARD III Then, by myself-- QUEEN ELIZABETH Thyself thyself misusest. KING RICHARD III Why then, by God-- QUEEN ELIZABETH God's wrong is most of all. If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, The unity the king thy brother made Had not been broken, nor my brother slain: If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him, The imperial metal, circling now thy brow, Had graced the tender temples of my child, And both the princes had been breathing here, Which now, two tender playfellows to dust, Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. What canst thou swear by now? KING RICHARD III The time to come. QUEEN ELIZABETH That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast; For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee. The children live, whose parents thou hast slaughter'd, Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age. Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast. KING RICHARD III As I intend to prosper and repent, So thrive I in my dangerous attempt Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! Be opposite all planets of good luck To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love, Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! In her consists my happiness and thine; Without her, follows to this land and me, To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, Death, desolation, ruin and decay: It cannot be avoided but by this; It will not be avoided but by this. Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so-- Be the attorney of my love to her: Plead what I will be, not what I have been; Not my deserts, but what I will deserve: Urge the necessity and state of times, And be not peevish-fond in great designs. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? KING RICHARD III Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I forget myself to be myself? KING RICHARD III Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. QUEEN ELIZABETH But thou didst kill my children. KING RICHARD III But in your daughter's womb I bury them: Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. QUEEN ELIZABETH Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? KING RICHARD III And be a happy mother by the deed. QUEEN ELIZABETH I go. Write to me very shortly. And you shall understand from me her mind. KING RICHARD III Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell. Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following How now! what news? RATCLIFF My gracious sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back: 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. KING RICHARD III Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk: Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he? CATESBY Here, my lord. KING RICHARD III Fly to the duke: To RATCLIFF Post thou to Salisbury When thou comest thither-- To CATESBY Dull, unmindful villain, Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke? CATESBY First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind, What from your grace I shall deliver to him. KING RICHARD III O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me presently at Salisbury. CATESBY I go. Exit RATCLIFF What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at Salisbury? KING RICHARD III Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? RATCLIFF Your highness told me I should post before. KING RICHARD III My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed. Enter STANLEY How now, what news with you? STANLEY None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. KING RICHARD III Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! Why dost thou run so many mile about, When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way? Once more, what news? STANLEY Richmond is on the seas. KING RICHARD III There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? STANLEY I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. KING RICHARD III Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess? STANLEY Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely, He makes for England, there to claim the crown. KING RICHARD III Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? What heir of York is there alive but we? And who is England's king but great York's heir? Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea? STANLEY Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. KING RICHARD III Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. STANLEY No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. KING RICHARD III Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? Where are thy tenants and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore. Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships! STANLEY No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. KING RICHARD III Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north, When they should serve their sovereign in the west? STANLEY They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign: Please it your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace Where and what time your majesty shall please. KING RICHARD III Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond: I will not trust you, sir. STANLEY Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful: I never was nor never will be false. KING RICHARD III Well, Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm. Or else his head's assurance is but frail. STANLEY So deal with him as I prove true to you. Exit Enter a Messenger Messenger My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate Bishop of Exeter, his brother there, With many more confederates, are in arms. Enter another Messenger Second Messenger My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth. Enter another Messenger Third Messenger My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham-- KING RICHARD III Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death? He striketh him Take that, until thou bring me better news. Third Messenger The news I have to tell your majesty Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither. KING RICHARD III I cry thee mercy: There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in? Third Messenger Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. Enter another Messenger Fourth Messenger Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset, 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest: Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks If they were his assistants, yea or no; Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham. Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany. KING RICHARD III March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. Re-enter CATESBY CATESBY My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken; That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, Is colder tidings, yet they must be told. KING RICHARD III Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here, A royal battle might be won and lost Some one take order Buckingham be brought To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. Flourish. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 5 Lord Derby's house. Enter DERBY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK DERBY Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me: That in the sty of this most bloody boar My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that withholds my present aid. But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? CHRISTOPHER At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales. DERBY What men of name resort to him? CHRISTOPHER Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley; Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew; And many more of noble fame and worth: And towards London they do bend their course, If by the way they be not fought withal. DERBY Return unto thy lord; commend me to him: Tell him the queen hath heartily consented He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 1 Salisbury. An open place. Enter the Sheriff, and BUCKINGHAM, with halberds, led to execution BUCKINGHAM Will not King Richard let me speak with him? Sheriff No, my good lord; therefore be patient. BUCKINGHAM Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey, Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, Vaughan, and all that have miscarried By underhand corrupted foul injustice, If that your moody discontented souls Do through the clouds behold this present hour, Even for revenge mock my destruction! This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? Sheriff It is, my lord. BUCKINGHAM Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day that, in King Edward's time, I wish't might fall on me, when I was found False to his children or his wife's allies This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall By the false faith of him I trusted most; This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul Is the determined respite of my wrongs: That high All-Seer that I dallied with Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; 'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess.' Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 2 The camp near Tamworth. Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, BLUNT, HERBERT, and others, with drum and colours RICHMOND Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine Lies now even in the centre of this isle, Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war. OXFORD Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, To fight against that bloody homicide. HERBERT I doubt not but his friends will fly to us. BLUNT He hath no friends but who are friends for fear. Which in his greatest need will shrink from him. RICHMOND All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march: True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings: Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 3 Bosworth Field. Enter KING RICHARD III in arms, with NORFOLK, SURREY, and others KING RICHARD III Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? SURREY My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. KING RICHARD III My Lord of Norfolk,-- NORFOLK Here, most gracious liege. KING RICHARD III Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not? NORFOLK We must both give and take, my gracious lord. KING RICHARD III Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight; But where to-morrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the foe? NORFOLK Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. KING RICHARD III Why, our battalion trebles that account: Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse party want. Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the field Call for some men of sound direction Let's want no discipline, make no delay, For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. Exeunt Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, Sir William Brandon, OXFORD, and others. Some of the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND's tent RICHMOND The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car, Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. Give me some ink and paper in my tent I'll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small strength. My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him And by the second hour in the morning Desire the earl to see me in my tent: Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st, Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know? BLUNT Unless I have mista'en his colours much, Which well I am assured I have not done, His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king. RICHMOND If without peril it be possible, Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, And give him from me this most needful scroll. BLUNT Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it; And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! RICHMOND Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen, Let us consult upon to-morrow's business In to our tent; the air is raw and cold. They withdraw into the tent Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD III, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, CATESBY, and others KING RICHARD III What is't o'clock? CATESBY It's supper-time, my lord; It's nine o'clock. KING RICHARD III I will not sup to-night. Give me some ink and paper. What, is my beaver easier than it was? And all my armour laid into my tent? CATESBY If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. KING RICHARD III Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. NORFOLK I go, my lord. KING RICHARD III Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. NORFOLK I warrant you, my lord. Exit KING RICHARD III Catesby! CATESBY My lord? KING RICHARD III Send out a pursuivant at arms To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power Before sunrising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night. Exit CATESBY Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. Ratcliff! RATCLIFF My lord? KING RICHARD III Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland? RATCLIFF Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. KING RICHARD III So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: I have not that alacrity of spirit, Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. Set it down. Is ink and paper ready? RATCLIFF It is, my lord. KING RICHARD III Bid my guard watch; leave me. Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent And help to arm me. Leave me, I say. Exeunt RATCLIFF and the other Attendants Enter DERBY to RICHMOND in his tent, Lords and others attending DERBY Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! RICHMOND All comfort that the dark night can afford Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! Tell me, how fares our loving mother? DERBY I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother Who prays continually for Richmond's good: So much for that. The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. In brief,--for so the season bids us be,-- Prepare thy battle early in the morning, And put thy fortune to the arbitrement Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,-- With best advantage will deceive the time, And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: But on thy side I may not be too forward Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his father's sight. Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love And ample interchange of sweet discourse, Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon: God give us leisure for these rites of love! Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well! RICHMOND Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, When I should mount with wings of victory: Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. Exeunt all but RICHMOND O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise thee in the victory! To thee I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still! Sleeps Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, son to King Henry VI of Prince Edward [To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die! To RICHMOND Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. Enter the Ghost of King Henry VI of King Henry VI [To KING RICHARD III] When I was mortal, my anointed body By thee was punched full of deadly holes Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die! Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die! To RICHMOND Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish! Enter the Ghost of CLARENCE Ghost of CLARENCE [To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death! To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!-- To RICHMOND Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish! Enter the Ghosts of RIVERS, GRAY, and VAUGHAN Ghost of RIVERS [To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, Rivers. that died at Pomfret! despair, and die! Ghost of GREY [To KING RICHARD III] Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! Ghost of VAUGHAN [To KING RICHARD III] Think upon Vaughan, and, with guilty fear, Let fall thy lance: despair, and die! All [To RICHMOND] Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom Will conquer him! awake, and win the day! Enter the Ghost of HASTINGS Ghost of HASTINGS [To KING RICHARD III] Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, And in a bloody battle end thy days! Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die! To RICHMOND Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes of young Princes [To KING RICHARD III] Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower: Let us be led within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die! To RICHMOND Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of kings! Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. Enter the Ghost of LADY ANNE Ghost of LADY ANNE [To KING RICHARD III] Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now fills thy sleep with perturbations To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die! To RICHMOND Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep Dream of success and happy victory! Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. Enter the Ghost of BUCKINGHAM of BUCKINGHAM [To KING RICHARD III] The last was I that helped thee to the crown; The last was I that felt thy tyranny: O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! To RICHMOND I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid: But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: God and good angel fight on Richmond's side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride. The Ghosts vanish KING RICHARD III starts out of his dream KING RICHARD III Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no! alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself! I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; And if I die, no soul shall pity me: Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent; and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter RATCLIFF RATCLIFF My lord! KING RICHARD III 'Zounds! who is there? RATCLIFF Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. KING RICHARD III O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? RATCLIFF No doubt, my lord. KING RICHARD III O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,-- RATCLIFF Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. KING RICHARD III By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, To see if any mean to shrink from me. Exeunt Enter the Lords to RICHMOND, sitting in his tent LORDS Good morrow, Richmond! RICHMOND Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. LORDS How have you slept, my lord? RICHMOND The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, Have I since your departure had, my lords. Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd, Came to my tent, and cried on victory: I promise you, my soul is very jocund In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, lords? LORDS Upon the stroke of four. RICHMOND Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction. His oration to his soldiers More than I have said, loving countrymen, The leisure and enforcement of the time Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, God and our good cause fight upon our side; The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow: For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant and a homicide; One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd; One that made means to come by what he hath, And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; One that hath ever been God's enemy: Then, if you fight against God's enemy, God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; If you do fight against your country's foes, Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; If you do free your children from the sword, Your children's children quit it in your age. Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; God and Saint George! Richmond and victory! Exeunt Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants and Forces KING RICHARD III What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? RATCLIFF That he was never trained up in arms. KING RICHARD III He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? RATCLIFF He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.' KING RICHARD III He was in the right; and so indeed it is. Clock striketh Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar. Who saw the sun to-day? RATCLIFF Not I, my lord. KING RICHARD III Then he disdains to shine; for by the book He should have braved the east an hour ago A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff! RATCLIFF My lord? KING RICHARD III The sun will not be seen to-day; The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. Enter NORFOLK NORFOLK Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. KING RICHARD III Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, And thus my battle shall be ordered: My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the main battle, whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk? NORFOLK A good direction, warlike sovereign. This found I on my tent this morning. He sheweth him a paper KING RICHARD III [Reads] 'Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.' A thing devised by the enemy. Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. His oration to his Army What shall I say more than I have inferr'd? Remember whom you are to cope withal; A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants, Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth To desperate ventures and assured destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other. And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost? A milk-sop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; Lash hence these overweening rags of France, These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives; Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves: If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, And in record, left them the heirs of shame. Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? Ravish our daughters? Drum afar off Hark! I hear their drum. Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! Enter a Messenger What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power? Messenger My lord, he doth deny to come. KING RICHARD III Off with his son George's head! NORFOLK My lord, the enemy is past the marsh After the battle let George Stanley die. KING RICHARD III A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! Upon them! victory sits on our helms. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 4 Another part of the field. Alarum: excursions. Enter NORFOLK and forces fighting; to him CATESBY CATESBY Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The king enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger: His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! Alarums. Enter KING RICHARD III KING RICHARD III A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! CATESBY Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse. KING RICHARD III Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think there be six Richmonds in the field; Five have I slain to-day instead of him. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! Exeunt Act 5, Scene 5 Another part of the field. Alarum. Enter KING RICHARD III and RICHMOND; they fight. KING RICHARD III is slain. Retreat and flourish. Re-enter RICHMOND, DERBY bearing the crown, with divers other Lords RICHMOND God and your arms be praised, victorious friends, The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. DERBY Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. RICHMOND Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? DERBY He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. RICHMOND What men of name are slain on either side? DERBY John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. RICHMOND Inter their bodies as becomes their births: Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled That in submission will return to us: And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, We will unite the white rose and the red: Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frown'd upon their enmity! What traitor hears me, and says not amen? England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided in their dire division, O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so. Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again, And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen! Exeunt Act 1, Scene 1 Elsinore. A platform before the castle. FRANCISCO at his post. Enter to him BERNARDO BERNARDO Who's there? FRANCISCO Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. BERNARDO Long live the king! FRANCISCO Bernardo? BERNARDO He. FRANCISCO You come most carefully upon your hour. BERNARDO 'Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco. FRANCISCO For this relief much thanks: 'tis bitter cold, And I am sick at heart. BERNARDO Have you had quiet guard? FRANCISCO Not a mouse stirring. BERNARDO Well, good night. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, The rivals of my watch, bid them make haste. FRANCISCO I think I hear them. Stand, ho! Who's there? Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS HORATIO Friends to this ground. MARCELLUS And liegemen to the Dane. FRANCISCO Give you good night. MARCELLUS O, farewell, honest soldier: Who hath relieved you? FRANCISCO Bernardo has my place. Give you good night. Exit MARCELLUS Holla! Bernardo! BERNARDO Say, What, is Horatio there? HORATIO A piece of him. BERNARDO Welcome, Horatio: welcome, good Marcellus. MARCELLUS What, has this thing appear'd again to-night? BERNARDO I have seen nothing. MARCELLUS Horatio says 'tis but our fantasy, And will not let belief take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us: Therefore I have entreated him along With us to watch the minutes of this night; That if again this apparition come, He may approve our eyes and speak to it. HORATIO Tush, tush, 'twill not appear. BERNARDO Sit down awhile; And let us once again assail your ears, That are so fortified against our story What we have two nights seen. HORATIO Well, sit we down, And let us hear Bernardo speak of this. BERNARDO Last night of all, When yond same star that's westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, The bell then beating one,-- Enter Ghost MARCELLUS Peace, break thee off; look, where it comes again! BERNARDO In the same figure, like the king that's dead. MARCELLUS Thou art a scholar; speak to it, Horatio. BERNARDO Looks it not like the king? mark it, Horatio. HORATIO Most like: it harrows me with fear and wonder. BERNARDO It would be spoke to. MARCELLUS Question it, Horatio. HORATIO What art thou that usurp'st this time of night, Together with that fair and warlike form In which the majesty of buried Denmark Did sometimes march? by heaven I charge thee, speak! MARCELLUS It is offended. BERNARDO See, it stalks away! HORATIO Stay! speak, speak! I charge thee, speak! Exit Ghost MARCELLUS 'Tis gone, and will not answer. BERNARDO How now, Horatio! you tremble and look pale: Is not this something more than fantasy? What think you on't? HORATIO Before my God, I might not this believe Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine own eyes. MARCELLUS Is it not like the king? HORATIO As thou art to thyself: Such was the very armour he had on When he the ambitious Norway combated; So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle, He smote the sledded Polacks on the ice. 'Tis strange. MARCELLUS Thus twice before, and jump at this dead hour, With martial stalk hath he gone by our watch. HORATIO In what particular thought to work I know not; But in the gross and scope of my opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our state. MARCELLUS Good now, sit down, and tell me, he that knows, Why this same strict and most observant watch So nightly toils the subject of the land, And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, And foreign mart for implements of war; Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore task Does not divide the Sunday from the week; What might be toward, that this sweaty haste Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day: Who is't that can inform me? HORATIO That can I; At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, Whose image even but now appear'd to us, Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate pride, Dared to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet-- For so this side of our known world esteem'd him-- Did slay this Fortinbras; who by a seal'd compact, Well ratified by law and heraldry, Did forfeit, with his life, all those his lands Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror: Against the which, a moiety competent Was gaged by our king; which had return'd To the inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant, And carriage of the article design'd, His fell to Hamlet. Now, sir, young Fortinbras, Of unimproved mettle hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there Shark'd up a list of lawless resolutes, For food and diet, to some enterprise That hath a stomach in't; which is no other-- As it doth well appear unto our state-- But to recover of us, by strong hand And terms compulsatory, those foresaid lands So by his father lost: and this, I take it, Is the main motive of our preparations, The source of this our watch and the chief head Of this post-haste and romage in the land. BERNARDO I think it be no other but e'en so: Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch; so like the king That was and is the question of these wars. HORATIO A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse: And even the like precurse of fierce events, As harbingers preceding still the fates And prologue to the omen coming on, Have heaven and earth together demonstrated Unto our climatures and countrymen.-- But soft, behold! lo, where it comes again! Re-enter Ghost I'll cross it, though it blast me. Stay, illusion! If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, Speak to me: If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease and grace to me, Speak to me: Cock crows If thou art privy to thy country's fate, Which, happily, foreknowing may avoid, O, speak! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life Extorted treasure in the womb of earth, For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in death, Speak of it: stay, and speak! Stop it, Marcellus. MARCELLUS Shall I strike at it with my partisan? HORATIO Do, if it will not stand. BERNARDO 'Tis here! HORATIO 'Tis here! MARCELLUS 'Tis gone! Exit Ghost We do it wrong, being so majestical, To offer it the show of violence; For it is, as the air, invulnerable, And our vain blows malicious mockery. BERNARDO It was about to speak, when the cock crew. HORATIO And then it started like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine: and of the truth herein This present object made probation. MARCELLUS It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. HORATIO So have I heard and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill: Break we our watch up; and by my advice, Let us impart what we have seen to-night Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life, This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him. Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needful in our loves, fitting our duty? MARCELLUS Let's do't, I pray; and I this morning know Where we shall find him most conveniently. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 2 A room of state in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, HAMLET, POLONIUS, LAERTES, VOLTIMAND, CORNELIUS, Lords, and Attendants KING CLAUDIUS Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green, and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe, Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves. Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen, The imperial jointress to this warlike state, Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,-- With an auspicious and a dropping eye, With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole,-- Taken to wife: nor have we herein barr'd Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone With this affair along. For all, our thanks. Now follows, that you know, young Fortinbras, Holding a weak supposal of our worth, Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, Colleagued with the dream of his advantage, He hath not fail'd to pester us with message, Importing the surrender of those lands Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, To our most valiant brother. So much for him. Now for ourself and for this time of meeting: Thus much the business is: we have here writ To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras,-- Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears Of this his nephew's purpose,--to suppress His further gait herein; in that the levies, The lists and full proportions, are all made Out of his subject: and we here dispatch You, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, For bearers of this greeting to old Norway; Giving to you no further personal power To business with the king, more than the scope Of these delated articles allow. Farewell, and let your haste commend your duty. CORNELIUS | | In that and all things will we show our duty. VOLTIMAND | KING CLAUDIUS We doubt it nothing: heartily farewell. Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS And now, Laertes, what's the news with you? You told us of some suit; what is't, Laertes? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, And loose your voice: what wouldst thou beg, Laertes, That shall not be my offer, not thy asking? The head is not more native to the heart, The hand more instrumental to the mouth, Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. What wouldst thou have, Laertes? LAERTES My dread lord, Your leave and favour to return to France; From whence though willingly I came to Denmark, To show my duty in your coronation, Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend again toward France And bow them to your gracious leave and pardon. KING CLAUDIUS Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius? LORD POLONIUS He hath, my lord, wrung from me my slow leave By laboursome petition, and at last Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent: I do beseech you, give him leave to go. KING CLAUDIUS Take thy fair hour, Laertes; time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will! But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son,-- HAMLET [Aside] A little more than kin, and less than kind. KING CLAUDIUS How is it that the clouds still hang on you? HAMLET Not so, my lord; I am too much i' the sun. QUEEN GERTRUDE Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off, And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark. Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust: Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity. HAMLET Ay, madam, it is common. QUEEN GERTRUDE If it be, Why seems it so particular with thee? HAMLET Seems, madam! nay it is; I know not 'seems.' 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play: But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe. KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Hamlet, To give these mourning duties to your father: But, you must know, your father lost a father; That father lost, lost his, and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To do obsequious sorrow: but to persever In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief; It shows a will most incorrect to heaven, A heart unfortified, a mind impatient, An understanding simple and unschool'd: For what we know must be and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sense, Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart? Fie! 'tis a fault to heaven, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, To reason most absurd: whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first corse till he that died to-day, 'This must be so.' We pray you, throw to earth This unprevailing woe, and think of us As of a father: for let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne; And with no less nobility of love Than that which dearest father bears his son, Do I impart toward you. For your intent In going back to school in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remain Here, in the cheer and comfort of our eye, Our chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. QUEEN GERTRUDE Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: I pray thee, stay with us; go not to Wittenberg. HAMLET I shall in all my best obey you, madam. KING CLAUDIUS Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: Be as ourself in Denmark. Madam, come; This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart: in grace whereof, No jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell, And the king's rouse the heavens all bruit again, Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. Exeunt all but HAMLET HAMLET O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! ah fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month-- Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!-- A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she-- O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month: Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not nor it cannot come to good: But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue. Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO HORATIO Hail to your lordship! HAMLET I am glad to see you well: Horatio,--or I do forget myself. HORATIO The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever. HAMLET Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio? Marcellus? MARCELLUS My good lord-- HAMLET I am very glad to see you. Good even, sir. But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg? HORATIO A truant disposition, good my lord. HAMLET I would not hear your enemy say so, Nor shall you do mine ear that violence, To make it truster of your own report Against yourself: I know you are no truant. But what is your affair in Elsinore? We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart. HORATIO My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. HAMLET I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; I think it was to see my mother's wedding. HORATIO Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon. HAMLET Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio! My father!--methinks I see my father. HORATIO Where, my lord? HAMLET In my mind's eye, Horatio. HORATIO I saw him once; he was a goodly king. HAMLET He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. HORATIO My lord, I think I saw him yesternight. HAMLET Saw? who? HORATIO My lord, the king your father. HAMLET The king my father! HORATIO Season your admiration for awhile With an attent ear, till I may deliver, Upon the witness of these gentlemen, This marvel to you. HAMLET For God's love, let me hear. HORATIO Two nights together had these gentlemen, Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, In the dead vast and middle of the night, Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe, Appears before them, and with solemn march Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes, Within his truncheon's length; whilst they, distilled Almost to jelly with the act of fear, Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me In dreadful secrecy impart they did; And I with them the third night kept the watch; Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time, Form of the thing, each word made true and good, The apparition comes: I knew your father; These hands are not more like. HAMLET But where was this? MARCELLUS My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd. HAMLET Did you not speak to it? HORATIO My lord, I did; But answer made it none: yet once methought It lifted up its head and did address Itself to motion, like as it would speak; But even then the morning cock crew loud, And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, And vanish'd from our sight. HAMLET 'Tis very strange. HORATIO As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis true; And we did think it writ down in our duty To let you know of it. HAMLET Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to-night? MARCELLUS | | We do, my lord. BERNARDO | HAMLET Arm'd, say you? MARCELLUS | | Arm'd, my lord. BERNARDO | HAMLET From top to toe? MARCELLUS | | My lord, from head to foot. BERNARDO | HAMLET Then saw you not his face? HORATIO O, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up. HAMLET What, look'd he frowningly? HORATIO A countenance more in sorrow than in anger. HAMLET Pale or red? HORATIO Nay, very pale. HAMLET And fix'd his eyes upon you? HORATIO Most constantly. HAMLET I would I had been there. HORATIO It would have much amazed you. HAMLET Very like, very like. Stay'd it long? HORATIO While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred. MARCELLUS | | Longer, longer. BERNARDO | HORATIO Not when I saw't. HAMLET His beard was grizzled--no? HORATIO It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silver'd. HAMLET I will watch to-night; Perchance 'twill walk again. HORATIO I warrant it will. HAMLET If it assume my noble father's person, I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight, Let it be tenable in your silence still; And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, Give it an understanding, but no tongue: I will requite your loves. So, fare you well: Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve, I'll visit you. All Our duty to your honour. HAMLET Your loves, as mine to you: farewell. Exeunt all but HAMLET My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. Exit Act 1, Scene 3 A room in Polonius' house. Enter LAERTES and OPHELIA LAERTES My necessaries are embark'd: farewell: And, sister, as the winds give benefit And convoy is assistant, do not sleep, But let me hear from you. OPHELIA Do you doubt that? LAERTES For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour, Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood, A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more. OPHELIA No more but so? LAERTES Think it no more; For nature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now, And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch The virtue of his will: but you must fear, His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth: He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself; for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state; And therefore must his choice be circumscribed Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you, It fits your wisdom so far to believe it As he in his particular act and place May give his saying deed; which is no further Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal. Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, If with too credent ear you list his songs, Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open To his unmaster'd importunity. Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister, And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, If she unmask her beauty to the moon: Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: The canker galls the infants of the spring, Too oft before their buttons be disclosed, And in the morn and liquid dew of youth Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then; best safety lies in fear: Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. OPHELIA I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede. LAERTES O, fear me not. I stay too long: but here my father comes. Enter POLONIUS A double blessing is a double grace, Occasion smiles upon a second leave. LORD POLONIUS Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame! The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, And you are stay'd for. There; my blessing with thee! And these few precepts in thy memory See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice; Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station Are of a most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine ownself be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my blessing season this in thee! LAERTES Most humbly do I take my leave, my lord. LORD POLONIUS The time invites you; go; your servants tend. LAERTES Farewell, Ophelia; and remember well What I have said to you. OPHELIA 'Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it. LAERTES Farewell. Exit LORD POLONIUS What is't, Ophelia, be hath said to you? OPHELIA So please you, something touching the Lord Hamlet. LORD POLONIUS Marry, well bethought: 'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late Given private time to you; and you yourself Have of your audience been most free and bounteous: If it be so, as so 'tis put on me, And that in way of caution, I must tell you, You do not understand yourself so clearly As it behoves my daughter and your honour. What is between you? give me up the truth. OPHELIA He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders Of his affection to me. LORD POLONIUS Affection! pooh! you speak like a green girl, Unsifted in such perilous circumstance. Do you believe his tenders, as you call them? OPHELIA I do not know, my lord, what I should think. LORD POLONIUS Marry, I'll teach you: think yourself a baby; That you have ta'en these tenders for true pay, Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more dearly; Or--not to crack the wind of the poor phrase, Running it thus--you'll tender me a fool. OPHELIA My lord, he hath importuned me with love In honourable fashion. LORD POLONIUS Ay, fashion you may call it; go to, go to. OPHELIA And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord, With almost all the holy vows of heaven. LORD POLONIUS Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, Giving more light than heat, extinct in both, Even in their promise, as it is a-making, You must not take for fire. From this time Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presence; Set your entreatments at a higher rate Than a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Believe so much in him, that he is young And with a larger tether may he walk Than may be given you: in few, Ophelia, Do not believe his vows; for they are brokers, Not of that dye which their investments show, But mere implorators of unholy suits, Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, The better to beguile. This is for all: I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth, Have you so slander any moment leisure, As to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you: come your ways. OPHELIA I shall obey, my lord. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 4 The platform. Enter HAMLET, HORATIO, and MARCELLUS HAMLET The air bites shrewdly; it is very cold. HORATIO It is a nipping and an eager air. HAMLET What hour now? HORATIO I think it lacks of twelve. HAMLET No, it is struck. HORATIO Indeed? I heard it not: then it draws near the season Wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. A flourish of trumpets, and ordnance shot off, within What does this mean, my lord? HAMLET The king doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. HORATIO Is it a custom? HAMLET Ay, marry, is't: But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance. This heavy-headed revel east and west Makes us traduced and tax'd of other nations: They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase Soil our addition; and indeed it takes From our achievements, though perform'd at height, The pith and marrow of our attribute. So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth--wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin-- By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners, that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star,-- Their virtues else--be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo-- Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault: the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal. HORATIO Look, my lord, it comes! Enter Ghost HAMLET Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou comest in such a questionable shape That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me! Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, Have burst their cerements; why the sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again. What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we do? Ghost beckons HAMLET HORATIO It beckons you to go away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone. MARCELLUS Look, with what courteous action It waves you to a more removed ground: But do not go with it. HORATIO No, by no means. HAMLET It will not speak; then I will follow it. HORATIO Do not, my lord. HAMLET Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life in a pin's fee; And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again: I'll follow it. HORATIO What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness? think of it: The very place puts toys of desperation, Without more motive, into every brain That looks so many fathoms to the sea And hears it roar beneath. HAMLET It waves me still. Go on; I'll follow thee. MARCELLUS You shall not go, my lord. HAMLET Hold off your hands. HORATIO Be ruled; you shall not go. HAMLET My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. Still am I call'd. Unhand me, gentlemen. By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me! I say, away! Go on; I'll follow thee. Exeunt Ghost and HAMLET HORATIO He waxes desperate with imagination. MARCELLUS Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him. HORATIO Have after. To what issue will this come? MARCELLUS Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. HORATIO Heaven will direct it. MARCELLUS Nay, let's follow him. Exeunt Act 1, Scene 5 Another part of the platform. Enter GHOST and HAMLET HAMLET Where wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no further. Ghost Mark me. HAMLET I will. Ghost My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself. HAMLET Alas, poor ghost! Ghost Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall unfold. HAMLET Speak; I am bound to hear. Ghost So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. HAMLET What? Ghost I am thy father's spirit, Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porpentine: But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O, list! If thou didst ever thy dear father love-- HAMLET O God! Ghost Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder. HAMLET Murder! Ghost Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange and unnatural. HAMLET Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May sweep to my revenge. Ghost I find thee apt; And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, Wouldst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear: 'Tis given out that, sleeping in my orchard, A serpent stung me; so the whole ear of Denmark Is by a forged process of my death Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth, The serpent that did sting thy father's life Now wears his crown. HAMLET O my prophetic soul! My uncle! Ghost Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,-- O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power So to seduce!--won to his shameful lust The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen: O Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! From me, whose love was of that dignity That it went hand in hand even with the vow I made to her in marriage, and to decline Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor To those of mine! But virtue, as it never will be moved, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, Will sate itself in a celestial bed, And prey on garbage. But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air; Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard, My custom always of the afternoon, Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial, And in the porches of my ears did pour The leperous distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man That swift as quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And with a sudden vigour doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; And a most instant tetter bark'd about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatch'd: Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin, Unhousel'd, disappointed, unanel'd, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head: O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not; Let not the royal bed of Denmark be A couch for luxury and damned incest. But, howsoever thou pursuest this act, Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive Against thy mother aught: leave her to heaven And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once! The glow-worm shows the matin to be near, And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire: Adieu, adieu! Hamlet, remember me. Exit HAMLET O all you host of heaven! O earth! what else? And shall I couple hell? O, fie! Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up. Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee! Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven! O most pernicious woman! O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! My tables,--meet it is I set it down, That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark: Writing So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; It is 'Adieu, adieu! remember me.' I have sworn 't. MARCELLUS | | [Within] My lord, my lord,-- HORATIO | MARCELLUS [Within] Lord Hamlet,-- HORATIO [Within] Heaven secure him! HAMLET So be it! HORATIO [Within] Hillo, ho, ho, my lord! HAMLET Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come. Enter HORATIO and MARCELLUS MARCELLUS How is't, my noble lord? HORATIO What news, my lord? HAMLET O, wonderful! HORATIO Good my lord, tell it. HAMLET No; you'll reveal it. HORATIO Not I, my lord, by heaven. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord. HAMLET How say you, then; would heart of man once think it? But you'll be secret? HORATIO | | Ay, by heaven, my lord. MARCELLUS | HAMLET There's ne'er a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave. HORATIO There needs no ghost, my lord, come from the grave To tell us this. HAMLET Why, right; you are i' the right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands and part: You, as your business and desire shall point you; For every man has business and desire, Such as it is; and for mine own poor part, Look you, I'll go pray. HORATIO These are but wild and whirling words, my lord. HAMLET I'm sorry they offend you, heartily; Yes, 'faith heartily. HORATIO There's no offence, my lord. HAMLET Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, Horatio, And much offence too. Touching this vision here, It is an honest ghost, that let me tell you: For your desire to know what is between us, O'ermaster 't as you may. And now, good friends, As you are friends, scholars and soldiers, Give me one poor request. HORATIO What is't, my lord? we will. HAMLET Never make known what you have seen to-night. HORATIO | | My lord, we will not. MARCELLUS | HAMLET Nay, but swear't. HORATIO In faith, My lord, not I. MARCELLUS Nor I, my lord, in faith. HAMLET Upon my sword. MARCELLUS We have sworn, my lord, already. HAMLET Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Ah, ha, boy! say'st thou so? art thou there, truepenny? Come on--you hear this fellow in the cellarage-- Consent to swear. HORATIO Propose the oath, my lord. HAMLET Never to speak of this that you have seen, Swear by my sword. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Hic et ubique? then we'll shift our ground. Come hither, gentlemen, And lay your hands again upon my sword: Never to speak of this that you have heard, Swear by my sword. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Well said, old mole! canst work i' the earth so fast? A worthy pioner! Once more remove, good friends. HORATIO O day and night, but this is wondrous strange! HAMLET And therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. But come; Here, as before, never, so help you mercy, How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on, That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, With arms encumber'd thus, or this headshake, Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phrase, As 'Well, well, we know,' or 'We could, an if we would,' Or 'If we list to speak,' or 'There be, an if they might,' Or such ambiguous giving out, to note That you know aught of me: this not to do, So grace and mercy at your most need help you, Swear. Ghost [Beneath] Swear. HAMLET Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! They swear So, gentlemen, With all my love I do commend me to you: And what so poor a man as Hamlet is May do, to express his love and friending to you, God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in together; And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, That ever I was born to set it right! Nay, come, let's go together. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 1 A room in POLONIUS' house. Enter POLONIUS and REYNALDO LORD POLONIUS Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo. REYNALDO I will, my lord. LORD POLONIUS You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo, Before you visit him, to make inquire Of his behavior. REYNALDO My lord, I did intend it. LORD POLONIUS Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir, Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who, what means, and where they keep, What company, at what expense; and finding By this encompassment and drift of question That they do know my son, come you more nearer Than your particular demands will touch it: Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge of him; As thus, 'I know his father and his friends, And in part him: ' do you mark this, Reynaldo? REYNALDO Ay, very well, my lord. LORD POLONIUS 'And in part him; but' you may say 'not well: But, if't be he I mean, he's very wild; Addicted so and so:' and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank As may dishonour him; take heed of that; But, sir, such wanton, wild and usual slips As are companions noted and most known To youth and liberty. REYNALDO As gaming, my lord. LORD POLONIUS Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling, Drabbing: you may go so far. REYNALDO My lord, that would dishonour him. LORD POLONIUS 'Faith, no; as you may season it in the charge You must not put another scandal on him, That he is open to incontinency; That's not my meaning: but breathe his faults so quaintly That they may seem the taints of liberty, The flash and outbreak of a fiery mind, A savageness in unreclaimed blood, Of general assault. REYNALDO But, my good lord,-- LORD POLONIUS Wherefore should you do this? REYNALDO Ay, my lord, I would know that. LORD POLONIUS Marry, sir, here's my drift; And I believe, it is a fetch of wit: You laying these slight sullies on my son, As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i' the working, Mark you, Your party in converse, him you would sound, Having ever seen in the prenominate crimes The youth you breathe of guilty, be assured He closes with you in this consequence; 'Good sir,' or so, or 'friend,' or 'gentleman,' According to the phrase or the addition Of man and country. REYNALDO Very good, my lord. LORD POLONIUS And then, sir, does he this--he does--what was I about to say? By the mass, I was about to say something: where did I leave? REYNALDO At 'closes in the consequence,' at 'friend or so,' and 'gentleman.' LORD POLONIUS At 'closes in the consequence,' ay, marry; He closes thus: 'I know the gentleman; I saw him yesterday, or t' other day, Or then, or then; with such, or such; and, as you say, There was a' gaming; there o'ertook in's rouse; There falling out at tennis:' or perchance, 'I saw him enter such a house of sale,' Videlicet, a brothel, or so forth. See you now; Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth: And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out: So by my former lecture and advice, Shall you my son. You have me, have you not? REYNALDO My lord, I have. LORD POLONIUS God be wi' you; fare you well. REYNALDO Good my lord! LORD POLONIUS Observe his inclination in yourself. REYNALDO I shall, my lord. LORD POLONIUS And let him ply his music. REYNALDO Well, my lord. LORD POLONIUS Farewell! Exit REYNALDO Enter OPHELIA How now, Ophelia! what's the matter? OPHELIA O, my lord, my lord, I have been so affrighted! LORD POLONIUS With what, i' the name of God? OPHELIA My lord, as I was sewing in my closet, Lord Hamlet, with his doublet all unbraced; No hat upon his head; his stockings foul'd, Ungarter'd, and down-gyved to his ancle; Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other; And with a look so piteous in purport As if he had been loosed out of hell To speak of horrors,--he comes before me. LORD POLONIUS Mad for thy love? OPHELIA My lord, I do not know; But truly, I do fear it. LORD POLONIUS What said he? OPHELIA He took me by the wrist and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arm; And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so; At last, a little shaking of mine arm And thrice his head thus waving up and down, He raised a sigh so piteous and profound As it did seem to shatter all his bulk And end his being: that done, he lets me go: And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, He seem'd to find his way without his eyes; For out o' doors he went without their helps, And, to the last, bended their light on me. LORD POLONIUS Come, go with me: I will go seek the king. This is the very ecstasy of love, Whose violent property fordoes itself And leads the will to desperate undertakings As oft as any passion under heaven That does afflict our natures. I am sorry. What, have you given him any hard words of late? OPHELIA No, my good lord, but, as you did command, I did repel his fetters and denied His access to me. LORD POLONIUS That hath made him mad. I am sorry that with better heed and judgment I had not quoted him: I fear'd he did but trifle, And meant to wreck thee; but, beshrew my jealousy! By heaven, it is as proper to our age To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions As it is common for the younger sort To lack discretion. Come, go we to the king: This must be known; which, being kept close, might move More grief to hide than hate to utter love. Exeunt Act 2, Scene 2 A room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and Attendants KING CLAUDIUS Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern! Moreover that we much did long to see you, The need we have to use you did provoke Our hasty sending. Something have you heard Of Hamlet's transformation; so call it, Sith nor the exterior nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should be, More than his father's death, that thus hath put him So much from the understanding of himself, I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, That, being of so young days brought up with him, And sith so neighbour'd to his youth and havior, That you vouchsafe your rest here in our court Some little time: so by your companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather, So much as from occasion you may glean, Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus, That, open'd, lies within our remedy. QUEEN GERTRUDE Good gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you; And sure I am two men there are not living To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To show us so much gentry and good will As to expend your time with us awhile, For the supply and profit of our hope, Your visitation shall receive such thanks As fits a king's remembrance. ROSENCRANTZ Both your majesties Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, Put your dread pleasures more into command Than to entreaty. GUILDENSTERN But we both obey, And here give up ourselves, in the full bent To lay our service freely at your feet, To be commanded. KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, Rosencrantz and gentle Guildenstern. QUEEN GERTRUDE Thanks, Guildenstern and gentle Rosencrantz: And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed son. Go, some of you, And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. GUILDENSTERN Heavens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpful to him! QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay, amen! Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and some Attendants Enter POLONIUS LORD POLONIUS The ambassadors from Norway, my good lord, Are joyfully return'd. KING CLAUDIUS Thou still hast been the father of good news. LORD POLONIUS Have I, my lord? I assure my good liege, I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, Both to my God and to my gracious king: And I do think, or else this brain of mine Hunts not the trail of policy so sure As it hath used to do, that I have found The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. KING CLAUDIUS O, speak of that; that do I long to hear. LORD POLONIUS Give first admittance to the ambassadors; My news shall be the fruit to that great feast. KING CLAUDIUS Thyself do grace to them, and bring them in. Exit POLONIUS He tells me, my dear Gertrude, he hath found The head and source of all your son's distemper. QUEEN GERTRUDE I doubt it is no other but the main; His father's death, and our o'erhasty marriage. KING CLAUDIUS Well, we shall sift him. Re-enter POLONIUS, with VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS Welcome, my good friends! Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? VOLTIMAND Most fair return of greetings and desires. Upon our first, he sent out to suppress His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack; But, better look'd into, he truly found It was against your highness: whereat grieved, That so his sickness, age and impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out arrests On Fortinbras; which he, in brief, obeys; Receives rebuke from Norway, and in fine Makes vow before his uncle never more To give the assay of arms against your majesty. Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy, Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee, And his commission to employ those soldiers, So levied as before, against the Polack: With an entreaty, herein further shown, Giving a paper That it might please you to give quiet pass Through your dominions for this enterprise, On such regards of safety and allowance As therein are set down. KING CLAUDIUS It likes us well; And at our more consider'd time well read, Answer, and think upon this business. Meantime we thank you for your well-took labour: Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: Most welcome home! Exeunt VOLTIMAND and CORNELIUS LORD POLONIUS This business is well ended. My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief: your noble son is mad: Mad call I it; for, to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad? But let that go. QUEEN GERTRUDE More matter, with less art. LORD POLONIUS Madam, I swear I use no art at all. That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity; And pity 'tis 'tis true: a foolish figure; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him, then: and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect, For this effect defective comes by cause: Thus it remains, and the remainder thus. Perpend. I have a daughter--have while she is mine-- Who, in her duty and obedience, mark, Hath given me this: now gather, and surmise. Reads 'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified Ophelia,'-- That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; 'beautified' is a vile phrase: but you shall hear. Thus: Reads 'In her excellent white bosom, these, &c.' QUEEN GERTRUDE Came this from Hamlet to her? LORD POLONIUS Good madam, stay awhile; I will be faithful. Reads 'Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. 'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers; I have not art to reckon my groans: but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. 'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him, HAMLET.' This, in obedience, hath my daughter shown me, And more above, hath his solicitings, As they fell out by time, by means and place, All given to mine ear. KING CLAUDIUS But how hath she Received his love? LORD POLONIUS What do you think of me? KING CLAUDIUS As of a man faithful and honourable. LORD POLONIUS I would fain prove so. But what might you think, When I had seen this hot love on the wing-- As I perceived it, I must tell you that, Before my daughter told me--what might you, Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, If I had play'd the desk or table-book, Or given my heart a winking, mute and dumb, Or look'd upon this love with idle sight; What might you think? No, I went round to work, And my young mistress thus I did bespeak: 'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star; This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her, That she should lock herself from his resort, Admit no messengers, receive no tokens. Which done, she took the fruits of my advice; And he, repulsed--a short tale to make-- Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness, Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension, Into the madness wherein now he raves, And all we mourn for. KING CLAUDIUS Do you think 'tis this? QUEEN GERTRUDE It may be, very likely. LORD POLONIUS Hath there been such a time--I'd fain know that-- That I have positively said 'Tis so,' When it proved otherwise? KING CLAUDIUS Not that I know. LORD POLONIUS [Pointing to his head and shoulder] Take this from this, if this be otherwise: If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre. KING CLAUDIUS How may we try it further? LORD POLONIUS You know, sometimes he walks four hours together Here in the lobby. QUEEN GERTRUDE So he does indeed. LORD POLONIUS At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: Be you and I behind an arras then; Mark the encounter: if he love her not And be not from his reason fall'n thereon, Let me be no assistant for a state, But keep a farm and carters. KING CLAUDIUS We will try it. QUEEN GERTRUDE But, look, where sadly the poor wretch comes reading. LORD POLONIUS Away, I do beseech you, both away: I'll board him presently. Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, and Attendants Enter HAMLET, reading O, give me leave: How does my good Lord Hamlet? HAMLET Well, God-a-mercy. LORD POLONIUS Do you know me, my lord? HAMLET Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. LORD POLONIUS Not I, my lord. HAMLET Then I would you were so honest a man. LORD POLONIUS Honest, my lord! HAMLET Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand. LORD POLONIUS That's very true, my lord. HAMLET For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god kissing carrion,--Have you a daughter? LORD POLONIUS I have, my lord. HAMLET Let her not walk i' the sun: conception is a blessing: but not as your daughter may conceive. Friend, look to 't. LORD POLONIUS [Aside] How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a fishmonger: he is far gone, far gone: and truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love; very near this. I'll speak to him again. What do you read, my lord? HAMLET Words, words, words. LORD POLONIUS What is the matter, my lord? HAMLET Between who? LORD POLONIUS I mean, the matter that you read, my lord. HAMLET Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams: all which, sir, though I most powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus set down, for yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if like a crab you could go backward. LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't. Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave. LORD POLONIUS Indeed, that is out o' the air. Aside How pregnant sometimes his replies are! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of. I will leave him, and suddenly contrive the means of meeting between him and my daughter.--My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you. HAMLET You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life. LORD POLONIUS Fare you well, my lord. HAMLET These tedious old fools! Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN LORD POLONIUS You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there he is. ROSENCRANTZ [To POLONIUS] God save you, sir! Exit POLONIUS GUILDENSTERN My honoured lord! ROSENCRANTZ My most dear lord! HAMLET My excellent good friends! How dost thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good lads, how do ye both? ROSENCRANTZ As the indifferent children of the earth. GUILDENSTERN Happy, in that we are not over-happy; On fortune's cap we are not the very button. HAMLET Nor the soles of her shoe? ROSENCRANTZ Neither, my lord. HAMLET Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favours? GUILDENSTERN 'Faith, her privates we. HAMLET In the secret parts of fortune? O, most true; she is a strumpet. What's the news? ROSENCRANTZ None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest. HAMLET Then is doomsday near: but your news is not true. Let me question more in particular: what have you, my good friends, deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither? GUILDENSTERN Prison, my lord! HAMLET Denmark's a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Then is the world one. HAMLET A goodly one; in which there are many confines, wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst. ROSENCRANTZ We think not so, my lord. HAMLET Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison. ROSENCRANTZ Why then, your ambition makes it one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. HAMLET O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. GUILDENSTERN Which dreams indeed are ambition, for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. HAMLET A dream itself is but a shadow. ROSENCRANTZ Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow. HAMLET Then are our beggars bodies, and our monarchs and outstretched heroes the beggars' shadows. Shall we to the court? for, by my fay, I cannot reason. ROSENCRANTZ | | We'll wait upon you. GUILDENSTERN | HAMLET No such matter: I will not sort you with the rest of my servants, for, to speak to you like an honest man, I am most dreadfully attended. But, in the beaten way of friendship, what make you at Elsinore? ROSENCRANTZ To visit you, my lord; no other occasion. HAMLET Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny. Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deal justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. GUILDENSTERN What should we say, my lord? HAMLET Why, any thing, but to the purpose. You were sent for; and there is a kind of confession in your looks which your modesties have not craft enough to colour: I know the good king and queen have sent for you. ROSENCRANTZ To what end, my lord? HAMLET That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved love, and by what more dear a better proposer could charge you withal, be even and direct with me, whether you were sent for, or no? ROSENCRANTZ [Aside to GUILDENSTERN] What say you? HAMLET [Aside] Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you love me, hold not off. GUILDENSTERN My lord, we were sent for. HAMLET I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts. HAMLET Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'? ROSENCRANTZ To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what lenten entertainment the players shall receive from you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they coming, to offer you service. HAMLET He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt for't. What players are they? ROSENCRANTZ Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city. HAMLET How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways. ROSENCRANTZ I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation. HAMLET Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? are they so followed? ROSENCRANTZ No, indeed, are they not. HAMLET How comes it? do they grow rusty? ROSENCRANTZ Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace: but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question, and are most tyrannically clapped for't: these are now the fashion, and so berattle the common stages--so they call them--that many wearing rapiers are afraid of goose-quills and dare scarce come thither. HAMLET What, are they children? who maintains 'em? how are they escoted? Will they pursue the quality no longer than they can sing? will they not say afterwards, if they should grow themselves to common players--as it is most like, if their means are no better--their writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their own succession? ROSENCRANTZ 'Faith, there has been much to do on both sides; and the nation holds it no sin to tarre them to controversy: there was, for a while, no money bid for argument, unless the poet and the player went to cuffs in the question. HAMLET Is't possible? GUILDENSTERN O, there has been much throwing about of brains. HAMLET Do the boys carry it away? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, that they do, my lord; Hercules and his load too. HAMLET It is not very strange; for mine uncle is king of Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my father lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats a-piece for his picture in little. 'Sblood, there is something in this more than natural, if philosophy could find it out. Flourish of trumpets within GUILDENSTERN There are the players. HAMLET Gentlemen, you are welcome to Elsinore. Your hands, come then: the appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony: let me comply with you in this garb, lest my extent to the players, which, I tell you, must show fairly outward, should more appear like entertainment than yours. You are welcome: but my uncle-father and aunt-mother are deceived. GUILDENSTERN In what, my dear lord? HAMLET I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw. Enter POLONIUS LORD POLONIUS Well be with you, gentlemen! HAMLET Hark you, Guildenstern; and you too: at each ear a hearer: that great baby you see there is not yet out of his swaddling-clouts. ROSENCRANTZ Happily he's the second time come to them; for they say an old man is twice a child. HAMLET I will prophesy he comes to tell me of the players; mark it. You say right, sir: o' Monday morning; 'twas so indeed. LORD POLONIUS My lord, I have news to tell you. HAMLET My lord, I have news to tell you. When Roscius was an actor in Rome,-- LORD POLONIUS The actors are come hither, my lord. HAMLET Buz, buz! LORD POLONIUS Upon mine honour,-- HAMLET Then came each actor on his ass,-- LORD POLONIUS The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-historical, tragical- comical-historical-pastoral, scene individable, or poem unlimited: Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of writ and the liberty, these are the only men. HAMLET O Jephthah, judge of Israel, what a treasure hadst thou! LORD POLONIUS What a treasure had he, my lord? HAMLET Why, 'One fair daughter and no more, The which he loved passing well.' LORD POLONIUS [Aside] Still on my daughter. HAMLET Am I not i' the right, old Jephthah? LORD POLONIUS If you call me Jephthah, my lord, I have a daughter that I love passing well. HAMLET Nay, that follows not. LORD POLONIUS What follows, then, my lord? HAMLET Why, 'As by lot, God wot,' and then, you know, 'It came to pass, as most like it was,'-- the first row of the pious chanson will show you more; for look, where my abridgement comes. Enter four or five Players You are welcome, masters; welcome, all. I am glad to see thee well. Welcome, good friends. O, my old friend! thy face is valenced since I saw thee last: comest thou to beard me in Denmark? What, my young lady and mistress! By'r lady, your ladyship is nearer to heaven than when I saw you last, by the altitude of a chopine. Pray God, your voice, like apiece of uncurrent gold, be not cracked within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French falconers, fly at any thing we see: we'll have a speech straight: come, give us a taste of your quality; come, a passionate speech. First Player What speech, my lord? HAMLET I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviare to the general: but it was--as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter: if it live in your memory, begin at this line: let me see, let me see-- 'The rugged Pyrrhus, like the Hyrcanian beast,'-- it is not so:--it begins with Pyrrhus:-- 'The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose sable arms, Black as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the ominous horse, Hath now this dread and black complexion smear'd With heraldry more dismal; head to foot Now is he total gules; horridly trick'd With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Baked and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous and damned light To their lord's murder: roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Old grandsire Priam seeks.' So, proceed you. LORD POLONIUS 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken, with good accent and good discretion. First Player 'Anon he finds him Striking too short at Greeks; his antique sword, Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls, Repugnant to command: unequal match'd, Pyrrhus at Priam drives; in rage strikes wide; But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword The unnerved father falls. Then senseless Ilium, Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming top Stoops to his base, and with a hideous crash Takes prisoner Pyrrhus' ear: for, lo! his sword, Which was declining on the milky head Of reverend Priam, seem'd i' the air to stick: So, as a painted tyrant, Pyrrhus stood, And like a neutral to his will and matter, Did nothing. But, as we often see, against some storm, A silence in the heavens, the rack stand still, The bold winds speechless and the orb below As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder Doth rend the region, so, after Pyrrhus' pause, Aroused vengeance sets him new a-work; And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall On Mars's armour forged for proof eterne With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Now falls on Priam. Out, out, thou strumpet, Fortune! All you gods, In general synod 'take away her power; Break all the spokes and fellies from her wheel, And bowl the round nave down the hill of heaven, As low as to the fiends!' LORD POLONIUS This is too long. HAMLET It shall to the barber's, with your beard. Prithee, say on: he's for a jig or a tale of bawdry, or he sleeps: say on: come to Hecuba. First Player 'But who, O, who had seen the mobled queen--' HAMLET 'The mobled queen?' LORD POLONIUS That's good; 'mobled queen' is good. First Player 'Run barefoot up and down, threatening the flames With bisson rheum; a clout upon that head Where late the diadem stood, and for a robe, About her lank and all o'er-teemed loins, A blanket, in the alarm of fear caught up; Who this had seen, with tongue in venom steep'd, 'Gainst Fortune's state would treason have pronounced: But if the gods themselves did see her then When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, The instant burst of clamour that she made, Unless things mortal move them not at all, Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, And passion in the gods.' LORD POLONIUS Look, whether he has not turned his colour and has tears in's eyes. Pray you, no more. HAMLET 'Tis well: I'll have thee speak out the rest soon. Good my lord, will you see the players well bestowed? Do you hear, let them be well used; for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live. LORD POLONIUS My lord, I will use them according to their desert. HAMLET God's bodykins, man, much better: use every man after his desert, and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honour and dignity: the less they deserve, the more merit is in your bounty. Take them in. LORD POLONIUS Come, sirs. HAMLET Follow him, friends: we'll hear a play to-morrow. Exit POLONIUS with all the Players but the First Dost thou hear me, old friend; can you play the Murder of Gonzago? First Player Ay, my lord. HAMLET We'll ha't to-morrow night. You could, for a need, study a speech of some dozen or sixteen lines, which I would set down and insert in't, could you not? First Player Ay, my lord. HAMLET Very well. Follow that lord; and look you mock him not. Exit First Player My good friends, I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord! HAMLET Ay, so, God be wi' ye; Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd, Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears. Yet I, A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, Like John-a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing; no, not for a king, Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? who does me this? Ha! 'Swounds, I should take it: for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal: bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! O, vengeance! Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave, That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing, like a very drab, A scullion! Fie upon't! foh! About, my brain! I have heard That guilty creatures sitting at a play Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: the play 's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. Exit Act 3, Scene 1 A room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS And can you, by no drift of circumstance, Get from him why he puts on this confusion, Grating so harshly all his days of quiet With turbulent and dangerous lunacy? ROSENCRANTZ He does confess he feels himself distracted; But from what cause he will by no means speak. GUILDENSTERN Nor do we find him forward to be sounded, But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, When we would bring him on to some confession Of his true state. QUEEN GERTRUDE Did he receive you well? ROSENCRANTZ Most like a gentleman. GUILDENSTERN But with much forcing of his disposition. ROSENCRANTZ Niggard of question; but, of our demands, Most free in his reply. QUEEN GERTRUDE Did you assay him? To any pastime? ROSENCRANTZ Madam, it so fell out, that certain players We o'er-raught on the way: of these we told him; And there did seem in him a kind of joy To hear of it: they are about the court, And, as I think, they have already order This night to play before him. LORD POLONIUS 'Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to entreat your majesties To hear and see the matter. KING CLAUDIUS With all my heart; and it doth much content me To hear him so inclined. Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, And drive his purpose on to these delights. ROSENCRANTZ We shall, my lord. Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS Sweet Gertrude, leave us too; For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may here Affront Ophelia: Her father and myself, lawful espials, Will so bestow ourselves that, seeing, unseen, We may of their encounter frankly judge, And gather by him, as he is behaved, If 't be the affliction of his love or no That thus he suffers for. QUEEN GERTRUDE I shall obey you. And for your part, Ophelia, I do wish That your good beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlet's wildness: so shall I hope your virtues Will bring him to his wonted way again, To both your honours. OPHELIA Madam, I wish it may. Exit QUEEN GERTRUDE LORD POLONIUS Ophelia, walk you here. Gracious, so please you, We will bestow ourselves. To OPHELIA Read on this book; That show of such an exercise may colour Your loneliness. We are oft to blame in this,-- 'Tis too much proved--that with devotion's visage And pious action we do sugar o'er The devil himself. KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] O, 'tis too true! How smart a lash that speech doth give my conscience! The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it Than is my deed to my most painted word: O heavy burthen! LORD POLONIUS I hear him coming: let's withdraw, my lord. Exeunt KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS Enter HAMLET HAMLET To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd. OPHELIA Good my lord, How does your honour for this many a day? HAMLET I humbly thank you; well, well, well. OPHELIA My lord, I have remembrances of yours, That I have longed long to re-deliver; I pray you, now receive them. HAMLET No, not I; I never gave you aught. OPHELIA My honour'd lord, you know right well you did; And, with them, words of so sweet breath composed As made the things more rich: their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord. HAMLET Ha, ha! are you honest? OPHELIA My lord? HAMLET Are you fair? OPHELIA What means your lordship? HAMLET That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty. OPHELIA Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty? HAMLET Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness: this was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof. I did love you once. OPHELIA Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so. HAMLET You should not have believed me; for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it: I loved you not. OPHELIA I was the more deceived. HAMLET Get thee to a nunnery: why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father? OPHELIA At home, my lord. HAMLET Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house. Farewell. OPHELIA O, help him, you sweet heavens! HAMLET If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, go: farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. OPHELIA O heavenly powers, restore him! HAMLET I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages: those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go. Exit OPHELIA O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy: O, woe is me, To have seen what I have seen, see what I see! Re-enter KING CLAUDIUS and POLONIUS KING CLAUDIUS Love! his affections do not that way tend; Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a little, Was not like madness. There's something in his soul, O'er which his melancholy sits on brood; And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose Will be some danger: which for to prevent, I have in quick determination Thus set it down: he shall with speed to England, For the demand of our neglected tribute Haply the seas and countries different With variable objects shall expel This something-settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brains still beating puts him thus From fashion of himself. What think you on't? LORD POLONIUS It shall do well: but yet do I believe The origin and commencement of his grief Sprung from neglected love. How now, Ophelia! You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said; We heard it all. My lord, do as you please; But, if you hold it fit, after the play Let his queen mother all alone entreat him To show his grief: let her be round with him; And I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear Of all their conference. If she find him not, To England send him, or confine him where Your wisdom best shall think. KING CLAUDIUS It shall be so: Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. Exeunt Act 3, Scene 2 A hall in the castle. Enter HAMLET and Players HAMLET Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: pray you, avoid it. First Player I warrant your honour. HAMLET Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably. First Player I hope we have reformed that indifferently with us, sir. HAMLET O, reform it altogether. And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them; for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, make you ready. Exeunt Players Enter POLONIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN How now, my lord! I will the king hear this piece of work? LORD POLONIUS And the queen too, and that presently. HAMLET Bid the players make haste. Exit POLONIUS Will you two help to hasten them? ROSENCRANTZ | | We will, my lord. GUILDENSTERN | Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN HAMLET What ho! Horatio! Enter HORATIO HORATIO Here, sweet lord, at your service. HAMLET Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation coped withal. HORATIO O, my dear lord,-- HAMLET Nay, do not think I flatter; For what advancement may I hope from thee That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flatter'd? No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.--Something too much of this.-- There is a play to-night before the king; One scene of it comes near the circumstance Which I have told thee of my father's death: I prithee, when thou seest that act afoot, Even with the very comment of thy soul Observe mine uncle: if his occulted guilt Do not itself unkennel in one speech, It is a damned ghost that we have seen, And my imaginations are as foul As Vulcan's stithy. Give him heedful note; For I mine eyes will rivet to his face, And after we will both our judgments join In censure of his seeming. HORATIO Well, my lord: If he steal aught the whilst this play is playing, And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. HAMLET They are coming to the play; I must be idle: Get you a place. Danish march. A flourish. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, POLONIUS, OPHELIA, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others KING CLAUDIUS How fares our cousin Hamlet? HAMLET Excellent, i' faith; of the chameleon's dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: you cannot feed capons so. KING CLAUDIUS I have nothing with this answer, Hamlet; these words are not mine. HAMLET No, nor mine now. To POLONIUS My lord, you played once i' the university, you say? LORD POLONIUS That did I, my lord; and was accounted a good actor. HAMLET What did you enact? LORD POLONIUS I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed i' the Capitol; Brutus killed me. HAMLET It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there. Be the players ready? ROSENCRANTZ Ay, my lord; they stay upon your patience. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit by me. HAMLET No, good mother, here's metal more attractive. LORD POLONIUS [To KING CLAUDIUS] O, ho! do you mark that? HAMLET Lady, shall I lie in your lap? Lying down at OPHELIA's feet OPHELIA No, my lord. HAMLET I mean, my head upon your lap? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET Do you think I meant country matters? OPHELIA I think nothing, my lord. HAMLET That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. OPHELIA What is, my lord? HAMLET Nothing. OPHELIA You are merry, my lord. HAMLET Who, I? OPHELIA Ay, my lord. HAMLET O God, your only jig-maker. What should a man do but be merry? for, look you, how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within these two hours. OPHELIA Nay, 'tis twice two months, my lord. HAMLET So long? Nay then, let the devil wear black, for I'll have a suit of sables. O heavens! die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year: but, by'r lady, he must build churches, then; or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epitaph is 'For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot.' Hautboys play. The dumb-show enters Enter a King and a Queen very lovingly; the Queen embracing him, and he her. She kneels, and makes show of protestation unto him. He takes her up, and declines his head upon her neck: lays him down upon a bank of flowers: she, seeing him asleep, leaves him. Anon comes in a fellow, takes off his crown, kisses it, and pours poison in the King's ears, and exit. The Queen returns; finds the King dead, and makes passionate action. The Poisoner, with some two or three Mutes, comes in again, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away. The Poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts: she seems loath and unwilling awhile, but in the end accepts his love Exeunt OPHELIA What means this, my lord? HAMLET Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief. OPHELIA Belike this show imports the argument of the play. Enter Prologue HAMLET We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot keep counsel; they'll tell all. OPHELIA Will he tell us what this show meant? HAMLET Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means. OPHELIA You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play. Prologue For us, and for our tragedy, Here stooping to your clemency, We beg your hearing patiently. Exit HAMLET Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? OPHELIA 'Tis brief, my lord. HAMLET As woman's love. Enter two Players, King and Queen Player King Full thirty times hath Phoebus' cart gone round Neptune's salt wash and Tellus' orbed ground, And thirty dozen moons with borrow'd sheen About the world have times twelve thirties been, Since love our hearts and Hymen did our hands Unite commutual in most sacred bands. Player Queen So many journeys may the sun and moon Make us again count o'er ere love be done! But, woe is me, you are so sick of late, So far from cheer and from your former state, That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust, Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must: For women's fear and love holds quantity; In neither aught, or in extremity. Now, what my love is, proof hath made you know; And as my love is sized, my fear is so: Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there. Player King 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, and shortly too; My operant powers their functions leave to do: And thou shalt live in this fair world behind, Honour'd, beloved; and haply one as kind For husband shalt thou-- Player Queen O, confound the rest! Such love must needs be treason in my breast: In second husband let me be accurst! None wed the second but who kill'd the first. HAMLET [Aside] Wormwood, wormwood. Player Queen The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love: A second time I kill my husband dead, When second husband kisses me in bed. Player King I do believe you think what now you speak; But what we do determine oft we break. Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity; Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the tree; But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. Most necessary 'tis that we forget To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt: What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of either grief or joy Their own enactures with themselves destroy: Where joy most revels, grief doth most lament; Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That even our loves should with our fortunes change; For 'tis a question left us yet to prove, Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love. The great man down, you mark his favourite flies; The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. And hitherto doth love on fortune tend; For who not needs shall never lack a friend, And who in want a hollow friend doth try, Directly seasons him his enemy. But, orderly to end where I begun, Our wills and fates do so contrary run That our devices still are overthrown; Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own: So think thou wilt no second husband wed; But die thy thoughts when thy first lord is dead. Player Queen Nor earth to me give food, nor heaven light! Sport and repose lock from me day and night! To desperation turn my trust and hope! An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope! Each opposite that blanks the face of joy Meet what I would have well and it destroy! Both here and hence pursue me lasting strife, If, once a widow, ever I be wife! HAMLET If she should break it now! Player King 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile The tedious day with sleep. Sleeps Player Queen Sleep rock thy brain, And never come mischance between us twain! Exit HAMLET Madam, how like you this play? QUEEN GERTRUDE The lady protests too much, methinks. HAMLET O, but she'll keep her word. KING CLAUDIUS Have you heard the argument? Is there no offence in 't? HAMLET No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest; no offence i' the world. KING CLAUDIUS What do you call the play? HAMLET The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o' that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung. Enter LUCIANUS This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. OPHELIA You are as good as a chorus, my lord. HAMLET I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. OPHELIA You are keen, my lord, you are keen. HAMLET It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. OPHELIA Still better, and worse. HAMLET So you must take your husbands. Begin, murderer; pox, leave thy damnable faces, and begin. Come: 'the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.' LUCIANUS Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, and time agreeing; Confederate season, else no creature seeing; Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds collected, With Hecate's ban thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy natural magic and dire property, On wholesome life usurp immediately. Pours the poison into the sleeper's ears HAMLET He poisons him i' the garden for's estate. His name's Gonzago: the story is extant, and writ in choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. OPHELIA The king rises. HAMLET What, frighted with false fire! QUEEN GERTRUDE How fares my lord? LORD POLONIUS Give o'er the play. KING CLAUDIUS Give me some light: away! All Lights, lights, lights! Exeunt all but HAMLET and HORATIO HAMLET Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must sleep: So runs the world away. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers-- if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me--with two Provincial roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry of players, sir? HORATIO Half a share. HAMLET A whole one, I. For thou dost know, O Damon dear, This realm dismantled was Of Jove himself; and now reigns here A very, very--pajock. HORATIO You might have rhymed. HAMLET O good Horatio, I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? HORATIO Very well, my lord. HAMLET Upon the talk of the poisoning? HORATIO I did very well note him. HAMLET Ah, ha! Come, some music! come, the recorders! For if the king like not the comedy, Why then, belike, he likes it not, perdy. Come, some music! Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, vouchsafe me a word with you. HAMLET Sir, a whole history. GUILDENSTERN The king, sir,-- HAMLET Ay, sir, what of him? GUILDENSTERN Is in his retirement marvellous distempered. HAMLET With drink, sir? GUILDENSTERN No, my lord, rather with choler. HAMLET Your wisdom should show itself more richer to signify this to his doctor; for, for me to put him to his purgation would perhaps plunge him into far more choler. GUILDENSTERN Good my lord, put your discourse into some frame and start not so wildly from my affair. HAMLET I am tame, sir: pronounce. GUILDENSTERN The queen, your mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. HAMLET You are welcome. GUILDENSTERN Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholesome answer, I will do your mother's commandment: if not, your pardon and my return shall be the end of my business. HAMLET Sir, I cannot. GUILDENSTERN What, my lord? HAMLET Make you a wholesome answer; my wit's diseased: but, sir, such answer as I can make, you shall command; or, rather, as you say, my mother: therefore no more, but to the matter: my mother, you say,-- ROSENCRANTZ Then thus she says; your behavior hath struck her into amazement and admiration. HAMLET O wonderful son, that can so astonish a mother! But is there no sequel at the heels of this mother's admiration? Impart. ROSENCRANTZ She desires to speak with you in her closet, ere you go to bed. HAMLET We shall obey, were she ten times our mother. Have you any further trade with us? ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you once did love me. HAMLET So I do still, by these pickers and stealers. ROSENCRANTZ Good my lord, what is your cause of distemper? you do, surely, bar the door upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs to your friend. HAMLET Sir, I lack advancement. ROSENCRANTZ How can that be, when you have the voice of the king himself for your succession in Denmark? HAMLET Ay, but sir, 'While the grass grows,'--the proverb is something musty. Re-enter Players with recorders O, the recorders! let me see one. To withdraw with you:--why do you go about to recover the wind of me, as if you would drive me into a toil? GUILDENSTERN O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly. HAMLET I do not well understand that. Will you play upon this pipe? GUILDENSTERN My lord, I cannot. HAMLET I pray you. GUILDENSTERN Believe me, I cannot. HAMLET I do beseech you. GUILDENSTERN I know no touch of it, my lord. HAMLET 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your lingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music. Look you, these are the stops. GUILDENSTERN But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill. HAMLET Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me. Enter POLONIUS God bless you, sir! LORD POLONIUS My lord, the queen would speak with you, and presently. HAMLET Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel? LORD POLONIUS By the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed. HAMLET Methinks it is like a weasel. LORD POLONIUS It is backed like a weasel. HAMLET Or like a whale? LORD POLONIUS Very like a whale. HAMLET Then I will come to my mother by and by. They fool me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by. LORD POLONIUS I will say so. HAMLET By and by is easily said. Exit POLONIUS Leave me, friends. Exeunt all but HAMLET Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world: now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother. O heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: Let me be cruel, not unnatural: I will speak daggers to her, but use none; My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites; How in my words soever she be shent, To give them seals never, my soul, consent! Exit Act 3, Scene 3 A room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS I like him not, nor stands it safe with us To let his madness range. Therefore prepare you; I your commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you: The terms of our estate may not endure Hazard so dangerous as doth hourly grow Out of his lunacies. GUILDENSTERN We will ourselves provide: Most holy and religious fear it is To keep those many many bodies safe That live and feed upon your majesty. ROSENCRANTZ The single and peculiar life is bound, With all the strength and armour of the mind, To keep itself from noyance; but much more That spirit upon whose weal depend and rest The lives of many. The cease of majesty Dies not alone; but, like a gulf, doth draw What's near it with it: it is a massy wheel, Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount, To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things Are mortised and adjoin'd; which, when it falls, Each small annexment, petty consequence, Attends the boisterous ruin. Never alone Did the king sigh, but with a general groan. KING CLAUDIUS Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy voyage; For we will fetters put upon this fear, Which now goes too free-footed. ROSENCRANTZ | | We will haste us. GUILDENSTERN | Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN Enter POLONIUS LORD POLONIUS My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Behind the arras I'll convey myself, To hear the process; and warrant she'll tax him home: And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 'Tis meet that some more audience than a mother, Since nature makes them partial, should o'erhear The speech, of vantage. Fare you well, my liege: I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know. KING CLAUDIUS Thanks, dear my lord. Exit POLONIUS O, my offence is rank it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, A brother's murder. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will: My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offence? And what's in prayer but this two-fold force, To be forestalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up; My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? That cannot be; since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. May one be pardon'd and retain the offence? In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then? what rests? Try what repentance can: what can it not? Yet what can it when one can not repent? O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the newborn babe! All may be well. Retires and kneels Enter HAMLET HAMLET Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; And now I'll do't. And so he goes to heaven; And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd: A villain kills my father; and for that, I, his sole son, do this same villain send To heaven. O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought, 'Tis heavy with him: and am I then revenged, To take him in the purging of his soul, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No! Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent: When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; At gaming, swearing, or about some act That has no relish of salvation in't; Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven, And that his soul may be as damn'd and black As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. Exit KING CLAUDIUS [Rising] My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go. Exit Act 3, Scene 4 The Queen's closet. Enter QUEEN MARGARET and POLONIUS LORD POLONIUS He will come straight. Look you lay home to him: Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, And that your grace hath screen'd and stood between Much heat and him. I'll sconce me even here. Pray you, be round with him. HAMLET [Within] Mother, mother, mother! QUEEN GERTRUDE I'll warrant you, Fear me not: withdraw, I hear him coming. POLONIUS hides behind the arras Enter HAMLET HAMLET Now, mother, what's the matter? QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. HAMLET Mother, you have my father much offended. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue. HAMLET Go, go, you question with a wicked tongue. QUEEN GERTRUDE Why, how now, Hamlet! HAMLET What's the matter now? QUEEN GERTRUDE Have you forgot me? HAMLET No, by the rood, not so: You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; And--would it were not so!--you are my mother. QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak. HAMLET Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge; You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you. QUEEN GERTRUDE What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murder me? Help, help, ho! LORD POLONIUS [Behind] What, ho! help, help, help! HAMLET [Drawing] How now! a rat? Dead, for a ducat, dead! Makes a pass through the arras LORD POLONIUS [Behind] O, I am slain! Falls and dies QUEEN GERTRUDE O me, what hast thou done? HAMLET Nay, I know not: Is it the king? QUEEN GERTRUDE O, what a rash and bloody deed is this! HAMLET A bloody deed! almost as bad, good mother, As kill a king, and marry with his brother. QUEEN GERTRUDE As kill a king! HAMLET Ay, lady, 'twas my word. Lifts up the array and discovers POLONIUS Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell! I took thee for thy better: take thy fortune; Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. Leave wringing of your hands: peace! sit you down, And let me wring your heart; for so I shall, If it be made of penetrable stuff, If damned custom have not brass'd it so That it is proof and bulwark against sense. QUEEN GERTRUDE What have I done, that thou darest wag thy tongue In noise so rude against me? HAMLET Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty, Calls virtue hypocrite, takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love And sets a blister there, makes marriage-vows As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed As from the body of contraction plucks The very soul, and sweet religion makes A rhapsody of words: heaven's face doth glow: Yea, this solidity and compound mass, With tristful visage, as against the doom, Is thought-sick at the act. QUEEN GERTRUDE Ay me, what act, That roars so loud, and thunders in the index? HAMLET Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man: This was your husband. Look you now, what follows: Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love; for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment Would step from this to this? Sense, sure, you have, Else could you not have motion; but sure, that sense Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err, Nor sense to ecstasy was ne'er so thrall'd But it reserved some quantity of choice, To serve in such a difference. What devil was't That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman-blind? Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, Or but a sickly part of one true sense Could not so mope. O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardour gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn And reason panders will. QUEEN GERTRUDE O Hamlet, speak no more: Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; And there I see such black and grained spots As will not leave their tinct. HAMLET Nay, but to live In the rank sweat of an enseamed bed, Stew'd in corruption, honeying and making love Over the nasty sty,-- QUEEN GERTRUDE O, speak to me no more; These words, like daggers, enter in mine ears; No more, sweet Hamlet! HAMLET A murderer and a villain; A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings; A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, And put it in his pocket! QUEEN GERTRUDE No more! HAMLET A king of shreds and patches,-- Enter Ghost Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings, You heavenly guards! What would your gracious figure? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, he's mad! HAMLET Do you not come your tardy son to chide, That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by The important acting of your dread command? O, say! Ghost Do not forget: this visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But, look, amazement on thy mother sits: O, step between her and her fighting soul: Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works: Speak to her, Hamlet. HAMLET How is it with you, lady? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, how is't with you, That you do bend your eye on vacancy And with the incorporal air do hold discourse? Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, Your bedded hair, like life in excrements, Starts up, and stands on end. O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? HAMLET On him, on him! Look you, how pale he glares! His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capable. Do not look upon me; Lest with this piteous action you convert My stern effects: then what I have to do Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. QUEEN GERTRUDE To whom do you speak this? HAMLET Do you see nothing there? QUEEN GERTRUDE Nothing at all; yet all that is I see. HAMLET Nor did you nothing hear? QUEEN GERTRUDE No, nothing but ourselves. HAMLET Why, look you there! look, how it steals away! My father, in his habit as he lived! Look, where he goes, even now, out at the portal! Exit Ghost QUEEN GERTRUDE This the very coinage of your brain: This bodiless creation ecstasy Is very cunning in. HAMLET Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music: it is not madness That I have utter'd: bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word; which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that mattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whilst rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven; Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; And do not spread the compost on the weeds, To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue; For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg, Yea, curb and woo for leave to do him good. QUEEN GERTRUDE O Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain. HAMLET O, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half. Good night: but go not to mine uncle's bed; Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night, And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence: the next more easy; For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either [ ] the devil, or throw him out With wondrous potency. Once more, good night: And when you are desirous to be bless'd, I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, Pointing to POLONIUS I do repent: but heaven hath pleased it so, To punish me with this and this with me, That I must be their scourge and minister. I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gave him. So, again, good night. I must be cruel, only to be kind: Thus bad begins and worse remains behind. One word more, good lady. QUEEN GERTRUDE What shall I do? HAMLET Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft. 'Twere good you let him know; For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, Would from a paddock, from a bat, a gib, Such dear concernings hide? who would do so? No, in despite of sense and secrecy, Unpeg the basket on the house's top. Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, To try conclusions, in the basket creep, And break your own neck down. QUEEN GERTRUDE Be thou assured, if words be made of breath, And breath of life, I have no life to breathe What thou hast said to me. HAMLET I must to England; you know that? QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, I had forgot: 'tis so concluded on. HAMLET There's letters seal'd: and my two schoolfellows, Whom I will trust as I will adders fang'd, They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way, And marshal me to knavery. Let it work; For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petard: and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines, And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet, When in one line two crafts directly meet. This man shall set me packing: I'll lug the guts into the neighbour room. Mother, good night. Indeed this counsellor Is now most still, most secret and most grave, Who was in life a foolish prating knave. Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night, mother. Exeunt severally; HAMLET dragging in POLONIUS Act 4, Scene 1 A room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, ROSENCRANTZ, and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves: You must translate: 'tis fit we understand them. Where is your son? QUEEN GERTRUDE Bestow this place on us a little while. Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN Ah, my good lord, what have I seen to-night! KING CLAUDIUS What, Gertrude? How does Hamlet? QUEEN GERTRUDE Mad as the sea and wind, when both contend Which is the mightier: in his lawless fit, Behind the arras hearing something stir, Whips out his rapier, cries, 'A rat, a rat!' And, in this brainish apprehension, kills The unseen good old man. KING CLAUDIUS O heavy deed! It had been so with us, had we been there: His liberty is full of threats to all; To you yourself, to us, to every one. Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? It will be laid to us, whose providence Should have kept short, restrain'd and out of haunt, This mad young man: but so much was our love, We would not understand what was most fit; But, like the owner of a foul disease, To keep it from divulging, let it feed Even on the pith of Life. Where is he gone? QUEEN GERTRUDE To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: O'er whom his very madness, like some ore Among a mineral of metals base, Shows itself pure; he weeps for what is done. KING CLAUDIUS O Gertrude, come away! The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch, But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed We must, with all our majesty and skill, Both countenance and excuse. Ho, Guildenstern! Re-enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN Friends both, go join you with some further aid: Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, And from his mother's closet hath he dragg'd him: Go seek him out; speak fair, and bring the body Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN Come, Gertrude, we'll call up our wisest friends; And let them know, both what we mean to do, And what's untimely done [ ] Whose whisper o'er the world's diameter, As level as the cannon to his blank, Transports his poison'd shot, may miss our name, And hit the woundless air. O, come away! My soul is full of discord and dismay. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 2 Another room in the castle. Enter HAMLET HAMLET Safely stowed. ROSENCRANTZ: | | [Within] Hamlet! Lord Hamlet! GUILDENSTERN: | HAMLET What noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they come. Enter ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN ROSENCRANTZ What have you done, my lord, with the dead body? HAMLET Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis kin. ROSENCRANTZ Tell us where 'tis, that we may take it thence And bear it to the chapel. HAMLET Do not believe it. ROSENCRANTZ Believe what? HAMLET That I can keep your counsel and not mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a sponge! what replication should be made by the son of a king? ROSENCRANTZ Take you me for a sponge, my lord? HAMLET Ay, sir, that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end: he keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw; first mouthed, to be last swallowed: when he needs what you have gleaned, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again. ROSENCRANTZ I understand you not, my lord. HAMLET I am glad of it: a knavish speech sleeps in a foolish ear. ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. HAMLET The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing-- GUILDENSTERN A thing, my lord! HAMLET Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 3 Another room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS, attended KING CLAUDIUS I have sent to seek him, and to find the body. How dangerous is it that this man goes loose! Yet must not we put the strong law on him: He's loved of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their judgment, but their eyes; And where tis so, the offender's scourge is weigh'd, But never the offence. To bear all smooth and even, This sudden sending him away must seem Deliberate pause: diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relieved, Or not at all. Enter ROSENCRANTZ How now! what hath befall'n? ROSENCRANTZ Where the dead body is bestow'd, my lord, We cannot get from him. KING CLAUDIUS But where is he? ROSENCRANTZ Without, my lord; guarded, to know your pleasure. KING CLAUDIUS Bring him before us. ROSENCRANTZ Ho, Guildenstern! bring in my lord. Enter HAMLET and GUILDENSTERN KING CLAUDIUS Now, Hamlet, where's Polonius? HAMLET At supper. KING CLAUDIUS At supper! where? HAMLET Not where he eats, but where he is eaten: a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet: we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots: your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, two dishes, but to one table: that's the end. KING CLAUDIUS Alas, alas! HAMLET A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and cat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. KING CLAUDIUS What dost you mean by this? HAMLET Nothing but to show you how a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar. KING CLAUDIUS Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven; send hither to see: if your messenger find him not there, seek him i' the other place yourself. But indeed, if you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. KING CLAUDIUS Go seek him there. To some Attendants HAMLET He will stay till ye come. Exeunt Attendants KING CLAUDIUS Hamlet, this deed, for thine especial safety,-- Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve For that which thou hast done,--must send thee hence With fiery quickness: therefore prepare thyself; The bark is ready, and the wind at help, The associates tend, and every thing is bent For England. HAMLET For England! KING CLAUDIUS Ay, Hamlet. HAMLET Good. KING CLAUDIUS So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes. HAMLET I see a cherub that sees them. But, come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. KING CLAUDIUS Thy loving father, Hamlet. HAMLET My mother: father and mother is man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; and so, my mother. Come, for England! Exit KING CLAUDIUS Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed aboard; Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night: Away! for every thing is seal'd and done That else leans on the affair: pray you, make haste. Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN And, England, if my love thou hold'st at aught-- As my great power thereof may give thee sense, Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red After the Danish sword, and thy free awe Pays homage to us--thou mayst not coldly set Our sovereign process; which imports at full, By letters congruing to that effect, The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England; For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: till I know 'tis done, Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. Exit Act 4, Scene 4 A plain in Denmark. Enter FORTINBRAS, a Captain, and Soldiers, marching PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go, captain, from me greet the Danish king; Tell him that, by his licence, Fortinbras Craves the conveyance of a promised march Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. If that his majesty would aught with us, We shall express our duty in his eye; And let him know so. Captain I will do't, my lord. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Go softly on. Exeunt FORTINBRAS and Soldiers Enter HAMLET, ROSENCRANTZ, GUILDENSTERN, and others HAMLET Good sir, whose powers are these? Captain They are of Norway, sir. HAMLET How purposed, sir, I pray you? Captain Against some part of Poland. HAMLET Who commands them, sir? Captain The nephews to old Norway, Fortinbras. HAMLET Goes it against the main of Poland, sir, Or for some frontier? Captain Truly to speak, and with no addition, We go to gain a little patch of ground That hath in it no profit but the name. To pay five ducats, five, I would not farm it; Nor will it yield to Norway or the Pole A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. HAMLET Why, then the Polack never will defend it. Captain Yes, it is already garrison'd. HAMLET Two thousand souls and twenty thousand ducats Will not debate the question of this straw: This is the imposthume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks, and shows no cause without Why the man dies. I humbly thank you, sir. Captain God be wi' you, sir. Exit ROSENCRANTZ Wilt please you go, my lord? HAMLET I'll be with you straight go a little before. Exeunt all except HAMLET How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unused. Now, whether it be Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do;' Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't. Examples gross as earth exhort me: Witness this army of such mass and charge Led by a delicate and tender prince, Whose spirit with divine ambition puff'd Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake. How stand I then, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain? O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! Exit Act 4, Scene 5 Elsinore. A room in the castle. Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE, HORATIO, and a Gentleman QUEEN GERTRUDE I will not speak with her. Gentleman She is importunate, indeed distract: Her mood will needs be pitied. QUEEN GERTRUDE What would she have? Gentleman She speaks much of her father; says she hears There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense: her speech is nothing, Yet the unshaped use of it doth move The hearers to collection; they aim at it, And botch the words up fit to their own thoughts; Which, as her winks, and nods, and gestures yield them, Indeed would make one think there might be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. HORATIO 'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew Dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds. QUEEN GERTRUDE Let her come in. Exit HORATIO To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, Each toy seems prologue to some great amiss: So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. Re-enter HORATIO, with OPHELIA OPHELIA Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? QUEEN GERTRUDE How now, Ophelia! OPHELIA [Sings] How should I your true love know From another one? By his cockle hat and staff, And his sandal shoon. QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? OPHELIA Say you? nay, pray you, mark. Sings He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. QUEEN GERTRUDE Nay, but, Ophelia,-- OPHELIA Pray you, mark. Sings White his shroud as the mountain snow,-- Enter KING CLAUDIUS QUEEN GERTRUDE Alas, look here, my lord. OPHELIA [Sings] Larded with sweet flowers Which bewept to the grave did go With true-love showers. KING CLAUDIUS How do you, pretty lady? OPHELIA Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your table! KING CLAUDIUS Conceit upon her father. OPHELIA Pray you, let's have no words of this; but when they ask you what it means, say you this: Sings To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine. Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes, And dupp'd the chamber-door; Let in the maid, that out a maid Never departed more. KING CLAUDIUS Pretty Ophelia! OPHELIA Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't: Sings By Gis and by Saint Charity, Alack, and fie for shame! Young men will do't, if they come to't; By cock, they are to blame. Quoth she, before you tumbled me, You promised me to wed. So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, An thou hadst not come to my bed. KING CLAUDIUS How long hath she been thus? OPHELIA I hope all will be well. We must be patient: but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground. My brother shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good counsel. Come, my coach! Good night, ladies; good night, sweet ladies; good night, good night. Exit KING CLAUDIUS Follow her close; give her good watch, I pray you. Exit HORATIO O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs All from her father's death. O Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrows come, they come not single spies But in battalions. First, her father slain: Next, your son gone; and he most violent author Of his own just remove: the people muddied, Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers, For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly, In hugger-mugger to inter him: poor Ophelia Divided from herself and her fair judgment, Without the which we are pictures, or mere beasts: Last, and as much containing as all these, Her brother is in secret come from France; Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds, And wants not buzzers to infect his ear With pestilent speeches of his father's death; Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd, Will nothing stick our person to arraign In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering-piece, in many places Gives me superfluous death. A noise within QUEEN GERTRUDE Alack, what noise is this? KING CLAUDIUS Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door. Enter another Gentleman What is the matter? Gentleman Save yourself, my lord: The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste Than young Laertes, in a riotous head, O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him lord; And, as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry 'Choose we: Laertes shall be king:' Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds: 'Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!' QUEEN GERTRUDE How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! O, this is counter, you false Danish dogs! KING CLAUDIUS The doors are broke. Noise within Enter LAERTES, armed; Danes following LAERTES Where is this king? Sirs, stand you all without. Danes No, let's come in. LAERTES I pray you, give me leave. Danes We will, we will. They retire without the door LAERTES I thank you: keep the door. O thou vile king, Give me my father! QUEEN GERTRUDE Calmly, good Laertes. LAERTES That drop of blood that's calm proclaims me bastard, Cries cuckold to my father, brands the harlot Even here, between the chaste unsmirched brow Of my true mother. KING CLAUDIUS What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person: There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes, Why thou art thus incensed. Let him go, Gertrude. Speak, man. LAERTES Where is my father? KING CLAUDIUS Dead. QUEEN GERTRUDE But not by him. KING CLAUDIUS Let him demand his fill. LAERTES How came he dead? I'll not be juggled with: To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation. To this point I stand, That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes; only I'll be revenged Most thoroughly for my father. KING CLAUDIUS Who shall stay you? LAERTES My will, not all the world: And for my means, I'll husband them so well, They shall go far with little. KING CLAUDIUS Good Laertes, If you desire to know the certainty Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge, That, swoopstake, you will draw both friend and foe, Winner and loser? LAERTES None but his enemies. KING CLAUDIUS Will you know them then? LAERTES To his good friends thus wide I'll ope my arms; And like the kind life-rendering pelican, Repast them with my blood. KING CLAUDIUS Why, now you speak Like a good child and a true gentleman. That I am guiltless of your father's death, And am most sensible in grief for it, It shall as level to your judgment pierce As day does to your eye. Danes [Within] Let her come in. LAERTES How now! what noise is that? Re-enter OPHELIA O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye! By heaven, thy madness shall be paid by weight, Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May! Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits Should be as moral as an old man's life? Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of itself After the thing it loves. OPHELIA [Sings] They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rain'd many a tear:-- Fare you well, my dove! LAERTES Hadst thou thy wits, and didst persuade revenge, It could not move thus. OPHELIA [Sings] You must sing a-down a-down, An you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter. LAERTES This nothing's more than matter. OPHELIA There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray, love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts. LAERTES A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted. OPHELIA There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died: they say he made a good end,-- Sings For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy. LAERTES Thought and affliction, passion, hell itself, She turns to favour and to prettiness. OPHELIA [Sings] And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again. His beard was as white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan: God ha' mercy on his soul! And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye. Exit LAERTES Do you see this, O God? KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, I must commune with your grief, Or you deny me right. Go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest friends you will. And they shall hear and judge 'twixt you and me: If by direct or by collateral hand They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, Our crown, our life, and all that we can ours, To you in satisfaction; but if not, Be you content to lend your patience to us, And we shall jointly labour with your soul To give it due content. LAERTES Let this be so; His means of death, his obscure funeral-- No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o'er his bones, No noble rite nor formal ostentation-- Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, That I must call't in question. KING CLAUDIUS So you shall; And where the offence is let the great axe fall. I pray you, go with me. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 6 Another room in the castle. Enter HORATIO and a Servant HORATIO What are they that would speak with me? Servant Sailors, sir: they say they have letters for you. HORATIO Let them come in. Exit Servant I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. Enter Sailors First Sailor God bless you, sir. HORATIO Let him bless thee too. First Sailor He shall, sir, an't please him. There's a letter for you, sir; it comes from the ambassador that was bound for England; if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is. HORATIO [Reads] 'Horatio, when thou shalt have overlooked this, give these fellows some means to the king: they have letters for him. Ere we were two days old at sea, a pirate of very warlike appointment gave us chase. Finding ourselves too slow of sail, we put on a compelled valour, and in the grapple I boarded them: on the instant they got clear of our ship; so I alone became their prisoner. They have dealt with me like thieves of mercy: but they knew what they did; I am to do a good turn for them. Let the king have the letters I have sent; and repair thou to me with as much speed as thou wouldst fly death. I have words to speak in thine ear will make thee dumb; yet are they much too light for the bore of the matter. These good fellows will bring thee where I am. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern hold their course for England: of them I have much to tell thee. Farewell. 'He that thou knowest thine, HAMLET.' Come, I will make you way for these your letters; And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. Exeunt Act 4, Scene 7 Another room in the castle. Enter KING CLAUDIUS and LAERTES KING CLAUDIUS Now must your conscience my acquaintance seal, And you must put me in your heart for friend, Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear, That he which hath your noble father slain Pursued my life. LAERTES It well appears: but tell me Why you proceeded not against these feats, So crimeful and so capital in nature, As by your safety, wisdom, all things else, You mainly were stirr'd up. KING CLAUDIUS O, for two special reasons; Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd, But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother Lives almost by his looks; and for myself-- My virtue or my plague, be it either which-- She's so conjunctive to my life and soul, That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her. The other motive, Why to a public count I might not go, Is the great love the general gender bear him; Who, dipping all his faults in their affection, Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone, Convert his gyves to graces; so that my arrows, Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind, Would have reverted to my bow again, And not where I had aim'd them. LAERTES And so have I a noble father lost; A sister driven into desperate terms, Whose worth, if praises may go back again, Stood challenger on mount of all the age For her perfections: but my revenge will come. KING CLAUDIUS Break not your sleeps for that: you must not think That we are made of stuff so flat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more: I loved your father, and we love ourself; And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine-- Enter a Messenger How now! what news? Messenger Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: This to your majesty; this to the queen. KING CLAUDIUS From Hamlet! who brought them? Messenger Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not: They were given me by Claudio; he received them Of him that brought them. KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, you shall hear them. Leave us. Exit Messenger Reads 'High and mighty, You shall know I am set naked on your kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes: when I shall, first asking your pardon thereunto, recount the occasion of my sudden and more strange return. 'HAMLET.' What should this mean? Are all the rest come back? Or is it some abuse, and no such thing? LAERTES Know you the hand? KING CLAUDIUS 'Tis Hamlets character. 'Naked! And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.' Can you advise me? LAERTES I'm lost in it, my lord. But let him come; It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 'Thus didest thou.' KING CLAUDIUS If it be so, Laertes-- As how should it be so? how otherwise?-- Will you be ruled by me? LAERTES Ay, my lord; So you will not o'errule me to a peace. KING CLAUDIUS To thine own peace. If he be now return'd, As checking at his voyage, and that he means No more to undertake it, I will work him To an exploit, now ripe in my device, Under the which he shall not choose but fall: And for his death no wind of blame shall breathe, But even his mother shall uncharge the practise And call it accident. LAERTES My lord, I will be ruled; The rather, if you could devise it so That I might be the organ. KING CLAUDIUS It falls right. You have been talk'd of since your travel much, And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality Wherein, they say, you shine: your sum of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one, and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege. LAERTES What part is that, my lord? KING CLAUDIUS A very riband in the cap of youth, Yet needful too; for youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears Than settled age his sables and his weeds, Importing health and graveness. Two months since, Here was a gentleman of Normandy:-- I've seen myself, and served against, the French, And they can well on horseback: but this gallant Had witchcraft in't; he grew unto his seat; And to such wondrous doing brought his horse, As he had been incorpsed and demi-natured With the brave beast: so far he topp'd my thought, That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, Come short of what he did. LAERTES A Norman was't? KING CLAUDIUS A Norman. LAERTES Upon my life, Lamond. KING CLAUDIUS The very same. LAERTES I know him well: he is the brooch indeed And gem of all the nation. KING CLAUDIUS He made confession of you, And gave you such a masterly report For art and exercise in your defence And for your rapier most especially, That he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation, He swore, had had neither motion, guard, nor eye, If you opposed them. Sir, this report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy That he could nothing do but wish and beg Your sudden coming o'er, to play with him. Now, out of this,-- LAERTES What out of this, my lord? KING CLAUDIUS Laertes, was your father dear to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? LAERTES Why ask you this? KING CLAUDIUS Not that I think you did not love your father; But that I know love is begun by time; And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it; And nothing is at a like goodness still; For goodness, growing to a plurisy, Dies in his own too much: that we would do We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing. But, to the quick o' the ulcer:-- Hamlet comes back: what would you undertake, To show yourself your father's son in deed More than in words? LAERTES To cut his throat i' the church. KING CLAUDIUS No place, indeed, should murder sanctuarize; Revenge should have no bounds. But, good Laertes, Will you do this, keep close within your chamber. Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home: We'll put on those shall praise your excellence And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gave you, bring you in fine together And wager on your heads: he, being remiss, Most generous and free from all contriving, Will not peruse the foils; so that, with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A sword unbated, and in a pass of practise Requite him for your father. LAERTES I will do't: And, for that purpose, I'll anoint my sword. I bought an unction of a mountebank, So mortal that, but dip a knife in it, Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, Collected from all simples that have virtue Under the moon, can save the thing from death That is but scratch'd withal: I'll touch my point With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly, It may be death. KING CLAUDIUS Let's further think of this; Weigh what convenience both of time and means May fit us to our shape: if this should fail, And that our drift look through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assay'd: therefore this project Should have a back or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proof. Soft! let me see: We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings: I ha't. When in your motion you are hot and dry-- As make your bouts more violent to that end-- And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepared him A chalice for the nonce, whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there. Enter QUEEN GERTRUDE How now, sweet queen! QUEEN GERTRUDE One woe doth tread upon another's heel, So fast they follow; your sister's drown'd, Laertes. LAERTES Drown'd! O, where? QUEEN GERTRUDE There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream; There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element: but long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death. LAERTES Alas, then, she is drown'd? QUEEN GERTRUDE Drown'd, drown'd. LAERTES Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet It is our trick; nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly douts it. Exit KING CLAUDIUS Let's follow, Gertrude: How much I had to do to calm his rage! Now fear I this will give it start again; Therefore let's follow. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 1 A churchyard. Enter two Clowns, with spades, &c First Clown Is she to be buried in Christian burial that wilfully seeks her own salvation? Second Clown I tell thee she is: and therefore make her grave straight: the crowner hath sat on her, and finds it Christian burial. First Clown How can that be, unless she drowned herself in her own defence? Second Clown Why, 'tis found so. First Clown It must be 'se offendendo;' it cannot be else. For here lies the point: if I drown myself wittingly, it argues an act: and an act hath three branches: it is, to act, to do, to perform: argal, she drowned herself wittingly. Second Clown Nay, but hear you, goodman delver,-- First Clown Give me leave. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good; if the man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, will he, nill he, he goes,--mark you that; but if the water come to him and drown him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that is not guilty of his own death shortens not his own life. Second Clown But is this law? First Clown Ay, marry, is't; crowner's quest law. Second Clown Will you ha' the truth on't? If this had not been a gentlewoman, she should have been buried out o' Christian burial. First Clown Why, there thou say'st: and the more pity that great folk should have countenance in this world to drown or hang themselves, more than their even Christian. Come, my spade. There is no ancient gentleman but gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers: they hold up Adam's profession. Second Clown Was he a gentleman? First Clown He was the first that ever bore arms. Second Clown Why, he had none. First Clown What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the Scripture? The Scripture says 'Adam digged:' could he dig without arms? I'll put another question to thee: if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confess thyself-- Second Clown Go to. First Clown What is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter? Second Clown The gallows-maker; for that frame outlives a thousand tenants. First Clown I like thy wit well, in good faith: the gallows does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that do in: now thou dost ill to say the gallows is built stronger than the church: argal, the gallows may do well to thee. To't again, come. Second Clown 'Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright, or a carpenter?' First Clown Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. Second Clown Marry, now I can tell. First Clown To't. Second Clown Mass, I cannot tell. Enter HAMLET and HORATIO, at a distance First Clown Cudgel thy brains no more about it, for your dull ass will not mend his pace with beating; and, when you are asked this question next, say 'a grave-maker: 'the houses that he makes last till doomsday. Go, get thee to Yaughan: fetch me a stoup of liquor. Exit Second Clown He digs and sings In youth, when I did love, did love, Methought it was very sweet, To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove, O, methought, there was nothing meet. HAMLET Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making? HORATIO Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. HAMLET 'Tis e'en so: the hand of little employment hath the daintier sense. First Clown [Sings] But age, with his stealing steps, Hath claw'd me in his clutch, And hath shipped me intil the land, As if I had never been such. Throws up a skull HAMLET That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches; one that would circumvent God, might it not? HORATIO It might, my lord. HAMLET Or of a courtier; which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! How dost thou, good lord?' This might be my lord such-a-one, that praised my lord such-a-one's horse, when he meant to beg it; might it not? HORATIO Ay, my lord. HAMLET Why, e'en so: and now my Lady Worm's; chapless, and knocked about the mazzard with a sexton's spade: here's fine revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at loggats with 'em? mine ache to think on't. A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, For and a shrouding sheet: O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. Throws up another skull HAMLET There's another: why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery? Hum! This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries: is this the fine of his fines, and the recovery of his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine dirt? will his vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases, and double ones too, than the length and breadth of a pair of indentures? The very conveyances of his lands will hardly lie in this box; and must the inheritor himself have no more, ha? HORATIO Not a jot more, my lord. HAMLET Is not parchment made of sheepskins? HORATIO Ay, my lord, and of calf-skins too. HAMLET They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah? First Clown Mine, sir. Sings O, a pit of clay for to be made For such a guest is meet. HAMLET I think it be thine, indeed; for thou liest in't. First Clown You lie out on't, sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I do not lie in't, and yet it is mine. HAMLET 'Thou dost lie in't, to be in't and say it is thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quick; therefore thou liest. First Clown 'Tis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away gain, from me to you. HAMLET What man dost thou dig it for? First Clown For no man, sir. HAMLET What woman, then? First Clown For none, neither. HAMLET Who is to be buried in't? First Clown One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. HAMLET How absolute the knave is! we must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I have taken a note of it; the age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he gaffs his kibe. How long hast thou been a grave-maker? First Clown Of all the days i' the year, I came to't that day that our last king Hamlet overcame Fortinbras. HAMLET How long is that since? First Clown Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that: it was the very day that young Hamlet was born; he that is mad, and sent into England. HAMLET Ay, marry, why was he sent into England? First Clown Why, because he was mad: he shall recover his wits there; or, if he do not, it's no great matter there. HAMLET Why? First Clown 'Twill, a not be seen in him there; there the men are as mad as he. HAMLET How came he mad? First Clown Very strangely, they say. HAMLET How strangely? First Clown Faith, e'en with losing his wits. HAMLET Upon what ground? First Clown Why, here in Denmark: I have been sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. HAMLET How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot? First Clown I' faith, if he be not rotten before he die--as we have many pocky corses now-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in--he will last you some eight year or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year. HAMLET Why he more than another? First Clown Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will keep out water a great while; and your water is a sore decayer of your whoreson dead body. Here's a skull now; this skull has lain in the earth three and twenty years. HAMLET Whose was it? First Clown A whoreson mad fellow's it was: whose do you think it was? HAMLET Nay, I know not. First Clown A pestilence on him for a mad rogue! a' poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head once. This same skull, sir, was Yorick's skull, the king's jester. HAMLET This? First Clown E'en that. HAMLET Let me see. Takes the skull Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rims at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. HORATIO What's that, my lord? HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i' the earth? HORATIO E'en so. HAMLET And smelt so? pah! Puts down the skull HORATIO E'en so, my lord. HAMLET To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole? HORATIO 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so. HAMLET No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel? Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw! But soft! but soft! aside: here comes the king. Enter Priest, &c. in procession; the Corpse of OPHELIA, LAERTES and Mourners following; KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, their trains, &c The queen, the courtiers: who is this they follow? And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken The corse they follow did with desperate hand Fordo its own life: 'twas of some estate. Couch we awhile, and mark. Retiring with HORATIO LAERTES What ceremony else? HAMLET That is Laertes, A very noble youth: mark. LAERTES What ceremony else? First Priest Her obsequies have been as far enlarged As we have warrantise: her death was doubtful; And, but that great command o'ersways the order, She should in ground unsanctified have lodged Till the last trumpet: for charitable prayers, Shards, flints and pebbles should be thrown on her; Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crants, Her maiden strewments and the bringing home Of bell and burial. LAERTES Must there no more be done? First Priest No more be done: We should profane the service of the dead To sing a requiem and such rest to her As to peace-parted souls. LAERTES Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE Sweets to the sweet: farewell! Scattering flowers I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, And not have strew'd thy grave. LAERTES O, treble woe Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense Deprived thee of! Hold off the earth awhile, Till I have caught her once more in mine arms: Leaps into the grave Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead, Till of this flat a mountain you have made, To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head Of blue Olympus. HAMLET [Advancing] What is he whose grief Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane. Leaps into the grave LAERTES The devil take thy soul! Grappling with him HAMLET Thou pray'st not well. I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat; For, though I am not splenitive and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerous, Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand. KING CLAUDIUS Pluck them asunder. QUEEN GERTRUDE Hamlet, Hamlet! All Gentlemen,-- HORATIO Good my lord, be quiet. The Attendants part them, and they come out of the grave HAMLET Why I will fight with him upon this theme Until my eyelids will no longer wag. QUEEN GERTRUDE O my son, what theme? HAMLET I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not, with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her? KING CLAUDIUS O, he is mad, Laertes. QUEEN GERTRUDE For love of God, forbear him. HAMLET 'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do: Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself? Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile? I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine? To outface me with leaping in her grave? Be buried quick with her, and so will I: And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou. QUEEN GERTRUDE This is mere madness: And thus awhile the fit will work on him; Anon, as patient as the female dove, When that her golden couplets are disclosed, His silence will sit drooping. HAMLET Hear you, sir; What is the reason that you use me thus? I loved you ever: but it is no matter; Let Hercules himself do what he may, The cat will mew and dog will have his day. Exit KING CLAUDIUS I pray you, good Horatio, wait upon him. Exit HORATIO To LAERTES Strengthen your patience in our last night's speech; We'll put the matter to the present push. Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. This grave shall have a living monument: An hour of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be. Exeunt Act 5, Scene 2 A hall in the castle. Enter HAMLET and HORATIO HAMLET So much for this, sir: now shall you see the other; You do remember all the circumstance? HORATIO Remember it, my lord? HAMLET Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting, That would not let me sleep: methought I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes. Rashly, And praised be rashness for it, let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall: and that should teach us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will,-- HORATIO That is most certain. HAMLET Up from my cabin, My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark Groped I to find out them; had my desire. Finger'd their packet, and in fine withdrew To mine own room again; making so bold, My fears forgetting manners, to unseal Their grand commission; where I found, Horatio,-- O royal knavery!--an exact command, Larded with many several sorts of reasons Importing Denmark's health and England's too, With, ho! such bugs and goblins in my life, That, on the supervise, no leisure bated, No, not to stay the grinding of the axe, My head should be struck off. HORATIO Is't possible? HAMLET Here's the commission: read it at more leisure. But wilt thou hear me how I did proceed? HORATIO I beseech you. HAMLET Being thus be-netted round with villanies,-- Ere I could make a prologue to my brains, They had begun the play--I sat me down, Devised a new commission, wrote it fair: I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair and labour'd much How to forget that learning, but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service: wilt thou know The effect of what I wrote? HORATIO Ay, good my lord. HAMLET An earnest conjuration from the king, As England was his faithful tributary, As love between them like the palm might flourish, As peace should stiff her wheaten garland wear And stand a comma 'tween their amities, And many such-like 'As'es of great charge, That, on the view and knowing of these contents, Without debatement further, more or less, He should the bearers put to sudden death, Not shriving-time allow'd. HORATIO How was this seal'd? HAMLET Why, even in that was heaven ordinant. I had my father's signet in my purse, Which was the model of that Danish seal; Folded the writ up in form of the other, Subscribed it, gave't the impression, placed it safely, The changeling never known. Now, the next day Was our sea-fight; and what to this was sequent Thou know'st already. HORATIO So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to't. HAMLET Why, man, they did make love to this employment; They are not near my conscience; their defeat Does by their own insinuation grow: 'Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes Between the pass and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites. HORATIO Why, what a king is this! HAMLET Does it not, think'st thee, stand me now upon-- He that hath kill'd my king and whored my mother, Popp'd in between the election and my hopes, Thrown out his angle for my proper life, And with such cozenage--is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arm? and is't not to be damn'd, To let this canker of our nature come In further evil? HORATIO It must be shortly known to him from England What is the issue of the business there. HAMLET It will be short: the interim is mine; And a man's life's no more than to say 'One.' But I am very sorry, good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot myself; For, by the image of my cause, I see The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours. But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me Into a towering passion. HORATIO Peace! who comes here? Enter OSRIC OSRIC Your lordship is right welcome back to Denmark. HAMLET I humbly thank you, sir. Dost know this water-fly? HORATIO No, my good lord. HAMLET Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him. He hath much land, and fertile: let a beast be lord of beasts, and his crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'tis a chough; but, as I say, spacious in the possession of dirt. OSRIC Sweet lord, if your lordship were at leisure, I should impart a thing to you from his majesty. HAMLET I will receive it, sir, with all diligence of spirit. Put your bonnet to his right use; 'tis for the head. OSRIC I thank your lordship, it is very hot. HAMLET No, believe me, 'tis very cold; the wind is northerly. OSRIC It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. HAMLET But yet methinks it is very sultry and hot for my complexion. OSRIC Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sultry,--as 'twere,--I cannot tell how. But, my lord, his majesty bade me signify to you that he has laid a great wager on your head: sir, this is the matter,-- HAMLET I beseech you, remember-- HAMLET moves him to put on his hat OSRIC Nay, good my lord; for mine ease, in good faith. Sir, here is newly come to court Laertes; believe me, an absolute gentleman, full of most excellent differences, of very soft society and great showing: indeed, to speak feelingly of him, he is the card or calendar of gentry, for you shall find in him the continent of what part a gentleman would see. HAMLET Sir, his definement suffers no perdition in you; though, I know, to divide him inventorially would dizzy the arithmetic of memory, and yet but yaw neither, in respect of his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, I take him to be a soul of great article; and his infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to make true diction of him, his semblable is his mirror; and who else would trace him, his umbrage, nothing more. OSRIC Your lordship speaks most infallibly of him. HAMLET The concernancy, sir? why do we wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? OSRIC Sir? HORATIO Is't not possible to understand in another tongue? You will do't, sir, really. HAMLET What imports the nomination of this gentleman? OSRIC Of Laertes? HORATIO His purse is empty already; all's golden words are spent. HAMLET Of him, sir. OSRIC I know you are not ignorant-- HAMLET I would you did, sir; yet, in faith, if you did, it would not much approve me. Well, sir? OSRIC You are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is-- HAMLET I dare not confess that, lest I should compare with him in excellence; but, to know a man well, were to know himself. OSRIC I mean, sir, for his weapon; but in the imputation laid on him by them, in his meed he's unfellowed. HAMLET What's his weapon? OSRIC Rapier and dagger. HAMLET That's two of his weapons: but, well. OSRIC The king, sir, hath wagered with him six Barbary horses: against the which he has imponed, as I take it, six French rapiers and poniards, with their assigns, as girdle, hangers, and so: three of the carriages, in faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberal conceit. HAMLET What call you the carriages? HORATIO I knew you must be edified by the margent ere you had done. OSRIC The carriages, sir, are the hangers. HAMLET The phrase would be more german to the matter, if we could carry cannon by our sides: I would it might be hangers till then. But, on: six Barbary horses against six French swords, their assigns, and three liberal-conceited carriages; that's the French bet against the Danish. Why is this 'imponed,' as you call it? OSRIC The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen passes between yourself and him, he shall not exceed you three hits: he hath laid on twelve for nine; and it would come to immediate trial, if your lordship would vouchsafe the answer. HAMLET How if I answer 'no'? OSRIC I mean, my lord, the opposition of your person in trial. HAMLET Sir, I will walk here in the hall: if it please his majesty, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the foils be brought, the gentleman willing, and the king hold his purpose, I will win for him an I can; if not, I will gain nothing but my shame and the odd hits. OSRIC Shall I re-deliver you e'en so? HAMLET To this effect, sir; after what flourish your nature will. OSRIC I commend my duty to your lordship. HAMLET Yours, yours. Exit OSRIC He does well to commend it himself; there are no tongues else for's turn. HORATIO This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. HAMLET He did comply with his dug, before he sucked it. Thus has he--and many more of the same bevy that I know the dressy age dotes on--only got the tune of the time and outward habit of encounter; a kind of yesty collection, which carries them through and through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, the bubbles are out. Enter a Lord Lord My lord, his majesty commended him to you by young Osric, who brings back to him that you attend him in the hall: he sends to know if your pleasure hold to play with Laertes, or that you will take longer time. HAMLET I am constant to my purpose; they follow the king's pleasure: if his fitness speaks, mine is ready; now or whensoever, provided I be so able as now. Lord The king and queen and all are coming down. HAMLET In happy time. Lord The queen desires you to use some gentle entertainment to Laertes before you fall to play. HAMLET She well instructs me. Exit Lord HORATIO You will lose this wager, my lord. HAMLET I do not think so: since he went into France, I have been in continual practise: I shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not think how ill all's here about my heart: but it is no matter. HORATIO Nay, good my lord,-- HAMLET It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of gain-giving, as would perhaps trouble a woman. HORATIO If your mind dislike any thing, obey it: I will forestall their repair hither, and say you are not fit. HAMLET Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Enter KING CLAUDIUS, QUEEN GERTRUDE, LAERTES, Lords, OSRIC, and Attendants with foils, &c KING CLAUDIUS Come, Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me. KING CLAUDIUS puts LAERTES' hand into HAMLET's HAMLET Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong; But pardon't, as you are a gentleman. This presence knows, And you must needs have heard, how I am punish'd With sore distraction. What I have done, That might your nature, honour and exception Roughly awake, I here proclaim was madness. Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Never Hamlet: If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And when he's not himself does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it, then? His madness: if't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. Sir, in this audience, Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil Free me so far in your most generous thoughts, That I have shot mine arrow o'er the house, And hurt my brother. LAERTES I am satisfied in nature, Whose motive, in this case, should stir me most To my revenge: but in my terms of honour I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder masters, of known honour, I have a voice and precedent of peace, To keep my name ungored. But till that time, I do receive your offer'd love like love, And will not wrong it. HAMLET I embrace it freely; And will this brother's wager frankly play. Give us the foils. Come on. LAERTES Come, one for me. HAMLET I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance Your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, Stick fiery off indeed. LAERTES You mock me, sir. HAMLET No, by this hand. KING CLAUDIUS Give them the foils, young Osric. Cousin Hamlet, You know the wager? HAMLET Very well, my lord Your grace hath laid the odds o' the weaker side. KING CLAUDIUS I do not fear it; I have seen you both: But since he is better'd, we have therefore odds. LAERTES This is too heavy, let me see another. HAMLET This likes me well. These foils have all a length? They prepare to play OSRIC Ay, my good lord. KING CLAUDIUS Set me the stoops of wine upon that table. If Hamlet give the first or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the battlements their ordnance fire: The king shall drink to Hamlet's better breath; And in the cup an union shall he throw, Richer than that which four successive kings In Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups; And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, The trumpet to the cannoneer without, The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth, 'Now the king dunks to Hamlet.' Come, begin: And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. HAMLET Come on, sir. LAERTES Come, my lord. They play HAMLET One. LAERTES No. HAMLET Judgment. OSRIC A hit, a very palpable hit. LAERTES Well; again. KING CLAUDIUS Stay; give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine; Here's to thy health. Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within Give him the cup. HAMLET I'll play this bout first; set it by awhile. Come. They play Another hit; what say you? LAERTES A touch, a touch, I do confess. KING CLAUDIUS Our son shall win. QUEEN GERTRUDE He's fat, and scant of breath. Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows; The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet. HAMLET Good madam! KING CLAUDIUS Gertrude, do not drink. QUEEN GERTRUDE I will, my lord; I pray you, pardon me. KING CLAUDIUS [Aside] It is the poison'd cup: it is too late. HAMLET I dare not drink yet, madam; by and by. QUEEN GERTRUDE Come, let me wipe thy face. LAERTES My lord, I'll hit him now. KING CLAUDIUS I do not think't. LAERTES [Aside] And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience. HAMLET Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally; I pray you, pass with your best violence; I am afeard you make a wanton of me. LAERTES Say you so? come on. They play OSRIC Nothing, neither way. LAERTES Have at you now! LAERTES wounds HAMLET; then in scuffling, they change rapiers, and HAMLET wounds LAERTES KING CLAUDIUS Part them; they are incensed. HAMLET Nay, come, again. QUEEN GERTRUDE falls OSRIC Look to the queen there, ho! HORATIO They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord? OSRIC How is't, Laertes? LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric; I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. HAMLET How does the queen? KING CLAUDIUS She swounds to see them bleed. QUEEN GERTRUDE No, no, the drink, the drink,--O my dear Hamlet,-- The drink, the drink! I am poison'd. Dies HAMLET O villany! Ho! let the door be lock'd: Treachery! Seek it out. LAERTES It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain; No medicine in the world can do thee good; In thee there is not half an hour of life; The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, Unbated and envenom'd: the foul practise Hath turn'd itself on me lo, here I lie, Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd: I can no more: the king, the king's to blame. HAMLET The point!--envenom'd too! Then, venom, to thy work. Stabs KING CLAUDIUS All Treason! treason! KING CLAUDIUS O, yet defend me, friends; I am but hurt. HAMLET Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy union here? Follow my mother. KING CLAUDIUS dies LAERTES He is justly served; It is a poison temper'd by himself. Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet: Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Nor thine on me. Dies HAMLET Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched queen, adieu! You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you-- But let it be. Horatio, I am dead; Thou livest; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied. HORATIO Never believe it: I am more an antique Roman than a Dane: Here's yet some liquor left. HAMLET As thou'rt a man, Give me the cup: let go; by heaven, I'll have't. O good Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story. March afar off, and shot within What warlike noise is this? OSRIC Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, To the ambassadors of England gives This warlike volley. HAMLET O, I die, Horatio; The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: I cannot live to hear the news from England; But I do prophesy the election lights On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice; So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, Which have solicited. The rest is silence. Dies HORATIO Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet prince: And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! Why does the drum come hither? March within Enter FORTINBRAS, the English Ambassadors, and others PRINCE FORTINBRAS Where is this sight? HORATIO What is it ye would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search. PRINCE FORTINBRAS This quarry cries on havoc. O proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternal cell, That thou so many princes at a shot So bloodily hast struck? First Ambassador The sight is dismal; And our affairs from England come too late: The ears are senseless that should give us hearing, To tell him his commandment is fulfill'd, That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead: Where should we have our thanks? HORATIO Not from his mouth, Had it the ability of life to thank you: He never gave commandment for their death. But since, so jump upon this bloody question, You from the Polack wars, and you from England, Are here arrived give order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view; And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about: so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' reads: all this can I Truly deliver. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let us haste to hear it, And call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune: I have some rights of memory in this kingdom, Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me. HORATIO Of that I shall have also cause to speak, And from his mouth whose voice will draw on more; But let this same be presently perform'd, Even while men's minds are wild; lest more mischance On plots and errors, happen. PRINCE FORTINBRAS Let four captains Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage; For he was likely, had he been put on, To have proved most royally: and, for his passage, The soldiers' music and the rites of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies: such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot. A dead march. Exeunt, bearing off the dead bodies; after which a peal of ordnance is shot off