The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic] and Reed, with glossarial notes, his life, and a critique on his genius & writings by N. Rowe

Mine innocent child?

Bora. Yea, even 1 alone.

Leon. No, not so, villain; thou beli'st thyself;
Here stand a pair of honourable men,
A third is fled, that had a hand in it:-
I thank you, princes, for my daughter's death;
Record it with your high and worthy deeds;
'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it.
Claud. I know not how to pray your patience,
Yet I must speak: Choose your revenge your-
self;

Impose me to what penance your invention
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not,
But in mistaking.

D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I;

And yet, to satisfy this good old man,
I would bend under any heavy weight
That he'll enjoin me to.

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, That were impossible; but, I pray you both, Possess the people in Messina here

How innocent she died: and, if your love
Can labour aught in sad invention,
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb,
And sing it to her bones; sing it to-night:-
To-morrow morning come you to my house;
And since you could not be my son-in-law,
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daugh-
Almost the copy of my child that's dead, [ter,
And she alone is heir to both of us;
Give her the right you should have given her
And so dies my revenge.

Claud. O, noble Sir,

[cousin,

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me!
I do embrace your offer; and dispose
For henceforth of poor Claudio.

Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your coming;

To-night I take my leave.-This naughty man Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, Who, I believe, was pack'd‡ in all this wrong, Hir'd to it by your brother.

Bora. No, by my soul, she was not; [me; Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to But always hath been just and virtuous, In any thing that I do know by her.

Dogb. Moreover, Sir, (which, indeed, is not under white and black,) this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his punishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say, he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name; the which he hath used so long, and Lever paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake; Pray you, examine him upon that point. Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest

pains.

Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you.

Leon. There's for thy pains. Dogb. God save the foundation! Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee.

Command. + Acquaint. + Combined.

SCENE II-LEONATO's Garden. Enter BENEDICK and MARGARET, meeting. Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of Beatrice.

Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet in praise of my beauty?

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man living shall come over it; for, in most comely truth, thou deservest it.

Marg. To have no man come over me? why, shall I always keep below stairs?

Bene. Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's mouth, it catches.

Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, which hit, but hurt not.

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not hurt a woman; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice: I give thee the bucklers.

Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers of our own.

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put in the pikes with a vice; and they are dangerous weapons for maids. Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, who, I think, hath legs. [Exit MARGARET. Bene. And therefore will come.

The god of love,

That sits above,

And knows me, and knows me,

How pitiful I deserve,

[Singing.]

I mean, in singing; but in loving,-Leander the good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pandars, and a whole book full of these quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even road of a blank verse, why, they were never so truly turned over and over as my poor self, in love: Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme; I have tried; I can find out no rhyme to ludy but baby, an innocent rhyme; for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; very ominous endings: No I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor i

cannot woo in festival terms.t

Enter BEATRICE.

Beat. Then, is spoken; fare you well now:and yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio.

Bene. Only foul words; and thereupon I will

kiss thee.

So the life, that died with shame,
Lives in death with glorious fame.
Hang thou there upon the tomb, [Affixing it.
Praising her when I am dumb.—

Now, Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and foul | hymn. wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?

Beat. For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?

Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

Beat. In spite of your heart, I think; alas! poor heart! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates.

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Beat. It appears not in this confession: there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself.

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the time of good neighbours: if a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and the widow weeps.

Beat. And how long is that, think you?

Bene. Question? Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in rheum: Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, (if Don Worm his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary,) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as 1 am to myself: So much for praising myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthy, and now tell me, How doth your cousin? Beat. Very ill.

Bene. And how do you?

Beat. Very ill too.

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: there will I leave you too, for here comes one in haste.

Enter URSULA.

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; yonder's old coilt at home: it is proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the prince and Claudio mightily abused; and Don John is the author of all, who is fled and gone: will you come presently?

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, moreover, I [Exeunt. will go with thee to thy uncle's.

SCENE III.-The Inside of a Church. Enter Don PEDRO, CLAUDIO, and ATTENDANTS, with Music and Tapers.

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato?
Atten. It is, my lord.
Claud. [Reads from a scroll.]

Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies:
Death, the guerdon‡ of her wrongs
Gives her fame which never dies:
+ Stir.

* Is subject to.

+ Reward.

music, sound, and sing your solemn

Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night!

Yearly will I do this rite.

D. Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put your torches out:

The wolves have prey'd; and look, the

gentle day,

Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about

Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray: Thanks to you all, and leave us; fare you well. Claud. Good morrow, masters; each his several way.

D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other weeds;

And then to Leonato's we will go.

Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier issue speed's,

Than this, for whom we render'd up this woe! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-A Room in LEONATO's House.

Enter LEONATO, ANTONIO, BENEDICK, BEA

TRICE, URSULA, FRIAR, and HERO.
Friar. Did I not tell you she was innocent?
Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who
accus'd her,

Upon the error that you heard debated:
But Margaret was in some fault for this;
Although against her will, as it appears
In the true course of all the question.

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so
well.

Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it.

Leon. Well, daughter, and you gentlewomen
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; [all,
And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd:
To visit me:-You know your office, brother;
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour
You must be father to your brother's daughter,
And give her to young Claudio.
[Exeunt Ladies.

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd coun

In the estate of honourable marriage ;-
In which, good friar, I shall desire your help.
Leon. My heart is with your liking.
Friar. And my help.

Here comes the prince, and Claudio.

Enter Don PEDRO and CLAUDIO, with Attendants.

D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. Leon. Good morrow, prince; good morrow, Claudio;

We here attend you; are you yet determin'd
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter?
Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope.
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar
ready.
[Exit ANTONIO.
D. Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick: Why,
what's the matter,

That you have such a February face,
So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?
Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage
bull:-
[gold,
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee;
As once Europa did at lusty Jove,
When he would play the noble beast in love.
Bene. Bull Jove, Sir, had an amiable low;
And some such strange bull leap'd your father's
And got a calf in that same noble feat, [cow,
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat."
Re-enter ANTONIO, with the Ladies masked.
Claud. For this I owe you: here comes other
reckonings.

Which is the lady I must seize upon?

Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. Claud. Why, then she's mine: Sweet, let me see your face.

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take

her hand

Before this friar, and swear to marry her. Claud. Give me your hand before this holy I am your husband, if you like of me. [friar; Hero. And when I lived, I was your other wife: [Unmasking. And when you loved, you were my other husband.

Claud. Another Hero?

Hero. Nothing certainer:

One Hero died defil'd; but I do live,
And, surely as I live, I am a maid.

D. Pedro. The former Hero! Hero that is dead!

Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her slander lived.

Friar, All this amazement can I qualify;
When, after that the holy rites are ended,
I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death:
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar,
And to the chapel let us presently.

Bene. Soft and fair, friar.-Which is Beatrice?

Beat. I answer to that name; [Unmasking.]
What is your will?

Bene. Do not you love me?
Beat. No, no more than reason.

Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the prince,

and Claudio,

Have been deceived; for they swore vou did. Beat. Do not you love me?

Bene. No, no more than reason.
Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, and
Ursula,

Are much deceiv'd; for they did sware you did. Bene. They swore that you were almost sick for me.

Beat. They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me.

Bene. "Tis no such matter:-Then, you do not love me?

Beat. No, truly, but in friendly recompense. Leon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love the

gentleman.

Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he loves For here's a paper, written in his hand, [her; A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, Fashion'd to Beatrice.

Hero. And here's another, [pocket, Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her Containing her affection unto Benedick.

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands against our hearts!-Come, I will have thee; but, by this light, I take thee for pity.

Beat. I would not deny you; but, by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, partly, to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption

Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth.[Kissing her. D. Pedro. How dost thou, Benedick the married man?

Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour: Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram? No: if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome about him: In brief, since I do propose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never flout at me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.-For thy part, Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee; but in that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, and love my cousin.

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst have denied Beatrice, that I might have cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make thee a double dealer; which, out of question, thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look exceeding narrowly to thee.

Bene. Come, come, we are friends:-let's have a dance ere we are married, that we may lighten our own hearts, and our wives' heels. Leon. We'll have dancing afterwards.

Bene. First, o' my word; therefore, play, music.

Prince, thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife: there is no staff more reverend than one tipped with horn.

The. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in
Another moon: but, oh, methinks, how slow
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,
Long withering out a young man's revenue.
Hip. Four days will quickly steep themselves
in nights;

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.

The. 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.

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke! The. Thanks, good Egeus: What's the news with thee?

Ege. 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 graciousduke,

This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child:

• Shows.

Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given her And interchang'd love-tokens with my child: rhymes, Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, With feigning voice, verses of feigning love; And stol'n the impression of her fantasy With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds, conceits, [gers Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweetmeats; messenOf 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.

The. What say you, Hermia? be advis'd, fair maid:

To you your father should be as a god;
One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in wax,
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure, or disfigure it.
Demetrius is a worthy gentleman.
Her. So is Lysander.
The. In himself he is:

But, in this kind, wanting your father's voice,
The other must be held the worthier.

Her. I would, my father look'd but with my eyes.

The. Rather your eyes must with his judge.

ment look.

Her. 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.

Baubles.

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.

The. 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
You can endure the livery of a nun; [choice,
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.
Her. So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord,
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up
Unto his lordship, whose unwished yoke
My soul consents not to give sovereignty.
The. Take time to pause: and by the next

new moon,

(The sealing-day betwixt my love and me,
For everlasting bond of fellowship,)
Upon that day either prepare to die,
For disobedience to your father's will;
Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would:
Or on Diana's altar to protest,

For aye, austerity and single life.

Dem. Relent, sweet Hermia ;-And, Lysan-
der, yield

Thy crazed title to my certain right.
Lys. You have her father's love, Demetrius;
Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.
Ege. 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.

Lys. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he,
As well possess'd; my love is more than his;
My fortunes every way as fairly rank'd,
If not with vantage, as Demetrius';

And, which is more than all these boasts can be,
1 am belov'd of beauteous Hermia :
Why should not I then prosecute my right?
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head,
Made love to Nedar's daughter, Helena,
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes,
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry,
Upon this spotted and inconstant man.
The. I must confess, that I have heard so
much,
[thereof;
And with Demetrius thought to have spoke
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 yield 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.
Ege. With duty, and desire we follow you.
[Exeunt THES. HIP. EGE. DEM. and train.
Lys. How now, my love? Why is your cheek
so pale

How chance the roses there do fade so fast?
+ Wicked.

* Ever.

Her. Belike for want of rain; which I could well

Beteem them from the tempest of mine eyes.

Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,
Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth:
But, either it was different in blood;

Her. O cross! too high to be enthrall'd to

low!

Lys. Or else misgraffed, in respect of years;
Her. O spite! too old to be engag'd to young!
Lys. Or else it stood upon the choice of
friends:

Her. O hell! to choose love by another's eye?
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it;
Making it momentanyt as a sound,
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream;
Brief as the lightning in the colliedt 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.
Her. 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;

[sighs,

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and
Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
Lys. 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 lov'st 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.

Her. My good Lysander!

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow;
By his best arrow with the golden head;
[loves;
By the simplicity of Venus' doves;
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers
And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage

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The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, from the text of Johnson, Stevens ...