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Lknox  Library 

J)-tegckttt*k  ColUtitim 

;;■'         the 



WLilliam  ^fjaltapeare* 





VOL.  JX. 



printed  by  c.  and  c-  wh1ttingh am. 









<:  *V  YO^ 

— -*— 






The  general  scheme  of  the  plot  of  Cymbeline  is  formed  on  the 
ninth  novel  of  the  second  day  in  the  Decamerone  of  Boccaccio* 
It  appears  from  the  preface  of  the  old  translation  of  the  De- 
camerone,  printed  in  folio  in  1620,  that  many  of  the  novels  had 
before  received  an  English  dress,  and  had  been  printed  sepa- 
rately. A  deformed  and  interpolated  imitation  of  the  novel  in 
question  was  printed  at  Antwerp,  by  John  Dusborowghe,  as 
early  as  1518,  under  the  following  title  : '  This  matter  treateth 
of  a  merchanntes  wife  that  afterwarde  wente  Iyke  a  man  and 
becam  a  greate  Iorde  and  was  called  Frederyke  of  Jennen  after- 
warde.' It  exhibits  the  material  features  of  its  original,  though 
the  names  of  the  characters  are  changed,  their  sentiments  de- 
based, and  their  conduct  rendered  still  more  improbable  than  in 
the,  scenes  of  Cymbeline*  A  book  was  published  in  London  in 
1603,  called  '  Westward  for  Smelts,  or  the  Waterman's  Fare  of 
mad  merry  western  Wenches,  whose  Tongues  albeit  like  Bell- 
clappers  they  never  leave  ringing,  yet  their  Tales  are  sweet,  and 
will  much  content  you :  Written  by  Kitt  of  Kingstone.'  It  was 
again  printed  in  1620.  To  the  second  tale  in  this  work  Shak- 
gpeare  seems  to  have  been  indebted  for  the  circumstances  in  his 
plot  of  Imogen's  wandering  about  after  Pisanio  has  left  her  in 
the  forest ;  her  being  almost  famished ;  and  being  taken  at  a 
subsequent  period  into  the  service  of  the  Roman  general  as  a 
page.  But  time  may  yet  bring  to  light  some  other  modification 
of  the  story,  which  will  prove  more  exactly  conformable  to  the 
plot  of  the  play. 

Malone  supposes  Cymbeline  to  have  been  written  in  the  year 
1609.  The  king,  from  whom  the  play  takes  its  title,  began  his 
reign,  according  to  Holinshed,  in  the  nineteenth  year  of  the 
reign  of  Augustus  Caesar ;  and  the  play  commences  in  or  about 
the  twenty-fourth  year  of  Cymbeline's  reign,  viYikVv  v«*&  ^aw 

VOL.  IX.  & 


forty -eeeonA  year  of  the  reign  of  Augustas,  and  tike  sixteenth  of 
the  Christian  era :  notwithstanding  which,  fthakspeare  ha*  pe*~ 
pied  Homo  with  modern  Italians  ;  Pbiiario,  Iaefaimo,  Uc.  Cym- 
beliae  is  said  to  neve  reigned  thirty-fire  years,  tearing  it  kw 
death  two  eons,  Gaiderias  and  Arvirag as.  Teaantias  (who  i* 
mentioned  fa  tbe  first  scene)  wu  tbe  father  of  Cymbeliae,  and 
nephew  of  Cassibelea,  being  tbe  yooager  ton  of  bit  elder  brother 
Lad,  king  of  the  southern  part  of  Britain,  be  agreed  to  par  aa 
aaaaal  tribute  to  Rome.  After  bit  deatb  Teaantias,  Lad'* 
younger  sen,  vu  established  oo  tbe  throne,  of  which  be  mod  bio 
elder  brother  Androgens,  who  fled  to  Rome,  bad  been  unjustly 
deprived  by  their  uncle.  According  to  some  authorities,  Tenun- 
tius  quietly  paid  tbe  tribate  stipulated  by  Cassibelan  ;  according 
to  other*,  he  refuted  to  par  it,  and  warred  with  the  Roman*, 
ftbekspcere  supposes  tbe  latter  to  be  the  troth.  Holi  ashed, 
who  furnished  oar  poet  with  these  facts,  faraisbed  him  also 
with  the  name  of  Sicilius,  who  was  admitted  king  of  Britain, 
A,  M,  WW. 

ftcblegcl  pronounce*  Cymbeline  to  be  '  one  of  Sbakspeare'a 
most  wooderfal  compositions,'  in  which  tbe  poet '  has  cootrired 
to  Mead  together  into  one  harmonious  whole  the  social  maimers 
of  the  latest  times  with  heroic  deeds,  and  even  with  appearances 
of  tbe  gods.  In  tbe  character  of  Imogen  not  a  feature  of  female 
excellence  is  forgotten ;  her  chaste  tenderness,  her  softness,  and 
her  virgin  pride,  Iter  boundless  resignation,  and  her  magnanimity 
towards  ber  mistaken  husband,  by  whom  she  is  unjustly  perse- 
anted j  hot  adventures  in  disguise,  her  apparent  deatb,  and  ber 
recovery,  form  altogether  a  picture  equally  tender  and  affecting. 
The  two  princes,  Goiderins  and  Arvfregue,  both  educated  ia  the 
wilds,  form  a  noble  contrast  to  Miranda  and  Perdfte.  In  these 
two  yoang  men,  to  whom  tbe  chase  has  given  rigour  and  hardi- 
hood, bat  who  are  unacquainted  with  their  high  destination,  and 
hare  always  been  kept  far  from  human  society,  we  are  enchanted 
by  a  n<f'it)M  heroism  which  leads  them  to  anticipate  and  to  dream 
of  deeds  of  valour,  till  an  occasion  is  offered  which  they  are 
irresistibly  impelled  to  embrace.  When  Imogen  comes  in  dis- 
guise to  their  cave;  when  Gufderius  and  Arviragu*  form  an 
impassioned  friendship,  with  all  tbe  innocence  of  childhood,  for 
the  tender  boy  (in  whom  they  neither  sospeot  a  female  nor  tb 
own  sister) ;  when  on  returning  from  the  chase  they  And 
dead,  sing  her  to  tbe  ground,  and  cover  tbe  grave  with  flowc 


might  give  a  ww  life  for  poetry  to  the  most 
deadened  imagination.' 

'  The  wife  aad  virtuous  Belarins,  who  after  living  long  as  a 
hermit,  again  becomes  a  hero,  is  a  venerable  figure ;  the  dexterous 
dissimulation  sad  qoiek  presence  of  mind  of  the  Italian  Iachimo 
is  quite  saitable  to  the  bold  treachery  be  plays;  Cymbeline, 
the  father  of  Imogen,  and  even  her  hnsband  Posthnmus,  during 
the  first  half  of  the  piece,  are  somewhat  sacrificed,  bnt  this 
could  not  be  otherwise ;  the  false  and  wicked  qaeen  is  merely 
an  instrument  of  the  plot ;  she  and  her  stupid  son  Cloten,  whose 
rude  arrogance  is  portrayed  with  much  humour,  are  got  rid  of 
by  merited  punishment  before  the  conclusion.' 

Steevens  objects  to  the  character  of  Cloten  in  a  note  on  the 
fourth  act  of  the  play,  observing  that '  he  is  represented  at  once 
as  brave  and  dastardly,  civil  and  brutish,  sagacious  and  foolish, 
without  that  snbtilty  o(  distinction,  and  those  shades  of  grada- 
tion between  sense  and  folly,  virtue  and  vice,  which  constitute 
the  excellence  of  such  mixed  characters  as  Polonins  in  Hamlet, 
and  the  Norse  in  Romeo  and  Juliet*  It  should,  however,  be 
observed  that  Imogen  has  justly  defined  him  *  that  trregnlotu 
devil  Cloten ;'  and  Miss  Seward,  in  one  of  her  Letters,  assures 
us  that  singular  as  the  character  of  Cloten  may  appear,  it  is  the 
exact  prototype  of  a  being  she  once  knew.  '  The  unmeaning 
frown  of  the  countenance ;  the  shuffling  gait ;  the  burst  of  voice ; 
the  bustling  insignificance ;  the  fever  and  ague  fits  of  valour ; 
the  froward  tetcbiness;  the  unprincipled  malice;  and  what  is 
most  curious,  those  occasional  gleams  of  good  sense,  amidst  the 
floating  clouds  of  folly  which  generally  darkened  and  confused 
the  man's  brain ;  and  which,  in  the  character  of  Cloten,  we  are 
apt  to  impute  to  a  violation  of  unity  in  character,  but  in  the 

sometime  Captain  C n  I  saw  the  portrait  of  Cloten  was  not 

out  of  nature/ 

In  the  developement  of  the  plot  of  this  play  the  poet  has  dis- 
played such  consummate  skill,  and  such  minute  attention  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  most  anxious  and  scrupulous  spectator,  as  to 
afford  a  complete  refutation  of  Johnson's  assertion,  that  Shak- 
speare  usually  hurries  over  the  conclusion  of  his  pieces. 

There  is  little  conclusive  evidence  to  ascertain  the  date  of  the 
composition  of  this  play ;  but  Malone  places  it  in  the  year  1609. 
Dr.  Drake,  after  Chalmers,  has  ascribed  it  to  the  year  1603. 


Cymbeline,  Ring  of  Britain. 
Cloten,  Son  to  the  Queen  by  a  former  Husband. 
Leonatus  Posthumus,  a  Gentleman,  Husband  to  Imogen. 
Belarius,  a  banished  Lord,  disguised  under  the  name  of  Morgan. 
n  C  Sons  to  Cymbeline,  disguised  under  the  names 

Uuiderius,   l      ^  Polydere  and  Cadwal,  supposed  Sons  to 
Arviragus,^     gelar.^8  W 

Philario,  Friend  to  Posthumus,  )  ... 
Iachimo,  Friend  to  Philario,        y 
A  French  Gentleman,  Friend  to  Philario. 
Caius  Lucius,  General  of  the  Roman  Forces. 
A  Roman  fcaptain.     Two  British  Captains. 
Pisanio,  Servant  to  Posthumus. 
Cornelius,  a  Physician,  « 

Two  Gentlemen. 
Two  Gaolers. 

Queen,  Wife  to  Cymbeline. 

Imogen,  Daughter  to  Cymbeline  by  a  former  Queen. 

Helen,  Woman  to  Imogen. 

Lords,  Ladies,  Roman  Senators,  Tribunes,  Apparitions,  a 
Soothsayer,  a  Dutch  Gentleman,  a  Spanish  Gentleman, 
Musicians,  Officers,  Captains,  Soldiers,  Messengers,  and 
other  Attendants. 

SCENE,  sometimes  in  Britain  ;  sometimes  in  Italy. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.    Britain.    The  Garden  behind  Cymbe- 

line's  Palace. 

Enter  Two  Gentlemen. 

1  Gentleman. 
You  do  not  meet  a  man  but  frowns :  our  bloods 
No  more  obey  the  heavens,  than  our  courtiers ; 
Still  seem,  as  does  the  king's  *• 

2  Gent.  But  what's  the  matter  ? 

1  Gent.  His  daughter,  and  the  heir  of  his  king- 
dom, whom 
He  purpos'd  to  his  wife's  sole  son  (a  widow 
That  late  he  married),  hath  referr'd  herself 

1  '  Our  bloods  [L  e.  our  dispositions  or  temperaments]  are  not 
more  regulated  by  the  beaTens ,  by  every  skyey  influence,  than  oar 
courtiers  are  bj  the  disposition  of  the  king:  when  be  frown* 
every  man  frowns.9  Blood  is  used  in  old  phraseology  for  dispo- 
sition or  temperament.    So  in  King  Lear  :— 

' Were  it  my  fitness 

To  let  these  hands  obey  my  blood.' 
And  in  The  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  1606  :— 

'  For  'tis  oar  blood  to  lore  what  we  are  forbidden/ 
The  following  passage  in  Greene's  Never  too  Late,  4to.  1599, 
illustrates  the  thought: — *  If  the  king  smiled,  every  one  in  court 
was  in  his  joUitie ;  if  he  frowned,  their  plumes  fell  like  pea- 
cock's feathers,  so  that  their  outward  presence  depended  on  his 
imscard  passions.1 



Unto  a  poor  but  worthy  gentleman :  She's  wedded; 
Her  husband  banish'd ;  she  imprisoned :  all 
Is  outward  sorrow ;  though,  I  think,  the  king 
Be  touch'd  at  very  heart. 

2  Gent.  None  but  the  king  ? 

1  Gent.  He,  that  hath  lost  her,  too :  so  is  the  queen, 
That  most  desir'd  the  match  :  But  not  a  courtier, 
Although  they  wear  their  faces  to  the  bent 

Of  the  king's  looks,  hath  a  heart  that  is  not 
Glad  at  the  thing  they  scowl  at 

2  Gent.  And  why  so  ? 

1  Gent.  He  that  hath  miss'd  the  princess,  is  a  thing 
Too  bad  for  bad  report :  and  he  that  hath  her, 

(I  mean,  that  married  her, — alack,  good  man! — 
And  therefore  banish'd)  is  a  creature  such 
As,  to  seek  through  the  regions  of  the  earth 
For  one  his  like,  there  would  be  something  failing 
In  him  that  should  compare.     I  do  not  think, 
So  fair  an  outward,  and  such  stuff  within 
Endows  a  man  but  he. 

2  Gent.  You  speak  him  far2. 

1  Gent.  I  do  extend  him,  sir,  within  himself; 
Crush  him  together,  rather  than  unfold 

His  measure  duly  s. 

2  Gent.  What's  his  name,  and  birth  ? 
1  Gent.  I  cannot  delve  him  to  the  root :  H  is  father 

Was  call'd  Sicilius,  who  did  join  his  honour4 

3  i.  e.  you  praise  him  extensively. 

3  '  My  eulogium,  however  extended  it  may  seem,  is  short  of 
his  real  excellence ;  it  is  rather  abbreviated  than  expanded.' 
Perhaps  this  passage  will  be  best  illustrated  by  the  following 
lines  in  T roil  us  and  Cressida,  Act  iii.  Sc.  3 : — 

' no  man  is  the  lord  of  any  thing, 

Till  he  communicate  his  parts  to  others: 
Nor  doth  he  of  himself  know  them  for  aught, 
Till  he  behold  them  form'd  in  the  applause 
Where  they  are  extended.'  [i.  e.  displayed  at  length.] 

4  I  do  not  (says  Steevens)  understand  what 'can  be  meant  by 

SC.  I.  •  *  CYMBELINE.  7 

Against  the  Romans,  with  Cassibelan; 
But  had  his  titles  by  Tenantius5,  whom 
He  serv'd  with  glory  and  admir'd  success : 
So  gain'd  the  sur-addition,  Leonatus: 
And  had,  besides  this  gentleman  in  question, 
Two  other  sons,  who,  in  the  wars  o'the  time, 
Died  with  their  swords  in  hand ;  for  which  their  father 
(Then  old  and  fond  of  issue)  took  such  sorrow, 
That  he  quit  being ;  and  his  gentle  lady, 
Big  of  this  gentleman,  our  theme,  deceas'd 
As  he  was  born.    The  king,  he  takes  the  babe 
To  his  protection;  calls  him  Posthumus; 
Breeds  him,  and  makes  him  of  his  bedchamber : 
Puts  him  to  all  the  learnings  that  his  time 
Could  make  him  the  receiver  of;  which  he  took, 
As  we  do  air,  fast  as  'twas  minister'd ;  and 
In  his  spring  became  a  harvest :  Liv'd  in  court 
(Which  rare  it  is  to  do)  most  prais'd,  most  lovM6: 
A  sample  to  the  youngest;  to  the  more  mature 
A  glass  that  feated7  them ;  and  to  the  graver, 
A  child  that  guided  dotards;  to  his  mistress8, 
From  whom  he  now  is  banish'd, — her  own  price 
Proclaims  how  she  esteem'd  him  and  his  virtue ; 
By  her  election  may  be  truly  read, 
What  kind  of  man  he  is. 

'  joining  his  honour  against,  &c.  with,  &'c.'  perhaps  Shakspeare 
wrote: — 

' did  join  his  banner.9 

In  the  last  scene  of  the  play  Cymbeline  proposes  that '  a  Roman 
and  a  British  ensign  should  wave  together/ 

5  The  father  of  Cymbeline. 

6  '  This  encomium  (says  Johnson)  is  highly  artful.  To  be  at 
once  in  any  great  degree  loved  and  praised  is  truly  rare' 

7  Feate  is  well-fashioned,  proper,  trim,  handsome,  well  com- 
pact. Concinnus.  Thus  in  Horman's  Volgaria,  1519 : — '  He 
would  see  himself  in  a  glasse,  that  all  thinge  were  feet.*  Feature 
was  also  used  for  fashion  or  proportion.  The  verb  to  feat  was 
probably  formed  by  Shakspeare  himself. 

8  '  To  his  mistress  '  means  as  to  his  mistress. 



2  Gent.  I  honour  him 

Even  out  of  your  report     But,  'pray  you,  tell  me, 
Is  she  sole  child  to  the  king  ? 

1  Gent.        ,  His  only  child. 
He  had  two  sons  (if  this  be  worth  your  hearing, 
Mark  it),  the  eldest  of  them  at  three  years  old, 

I' the  swathing  clothes  the  other,  from  their  nursery 
Were  stolen :  and  to  this  hour,  no  guess  in  knowledge 
Which  way  they  went 

2  Gent.  How  long  is  this  ago? 

1  Gent.  Some  twenty  years. 

2  Gent.  That  a  king's  children  should  be  so  con-' 

vey'd ! 
So  slackly  guarded!  And  the  search  so  slow, 
That  could  not  trace  them ! 

1  Gent.  Howsoe'er  'tis  strange, 
Or  that  the  negligence  may  well  be  laugh'd  at, 
Yet  is  it  true,  sir. 

2  Gent.  I  do  well  believe  you. 

1  Gent.  We  must  forbear :  Jlere  comes  the  queen 
and  princess.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     The  same. 

Enter  the  Queen,  Posthumus,  and  Imogen. 

Queen.  No,  be  assur'd,  you  shall  not  find  me,, 
After  the  slander  of  most  step-mothers, 
Evil-eyed  unto  you :  you  are  my  prisoner,  but 
Your  gaoler  shall  deliver  you  the  keys 
That  lock  up  your  restraint.    For  you,  Posthumus, 
So  soon  as  I  can  win  the  offended  king, 
I  will  be  known  your  advocate :  marry,  yet 
The  fire  of  rage  is  in  him;  and  'twere  good, 
You  lean'd  unto  his  sentence,  with  what  patience 
Your  wisdom  may  inform  you.  * 


Post.  Please  your  highness, 

I  will  from  hence  to-day. 

Queen.  You  know  the  peril: — 

I'll  fetch  a  turn  about  the  garden,  pitying 
The  pangs  of  barr'd  affections :  though  the  king 
Hath  charg'd  you  should  not  speak  together. 

[Exit  Queen. 

Imo.  O 

Dissembling  courtesy !  How  fine  this  tyrant 
Can  tickle  where  she  wounds ! — My  dearest  hus-> 

I  something  fear  my  father's  wrath;  but  nothing 
(Always  reserv'd  my  holy  duty1),  what 
His  rage  can  do  on  me:  You  must  be  gone; 
And  I  shall  here  abide  the  hourly  shot 
Of  angry  eyes:  not  comforted  to  live, 
But  that  there  is  this  jewel  in  the  world, 
That  I  may  see  again. 

Post.  My  queen !  my  mistress ! 

O,  lady,  weep  no  more;  lest  I  give  cause 
To  be  suspected  of  more  tenderness 
Than  doth  become  a  man !  I  will  remain 
The  loyal'st  husband  that  did  e'er  plight  troth. 
My  residence  in  Rome  at  one  Philario's ; 
Who  to  my  father  was  a  friend,  to  me 
Known  but  by  letter :  thither  write,  my  queen, 
And  with  mine  eyes  I'll  drink  the  words  you  send, 
Though  ink  be  made  of  gall. 

Re-enter  Queen. 

Queen.  Be  brief,  I  pray  you : 

If  the  king  come,  I  shall  incur  I  know  not 
How  much  of  his  displeasure : — Yet  I'll  move  him 


1  '  I  say  I  do  not  fear  my  father,  so  far  as  I  mvj  wj  \\.V\>^- 
out  breach  of  duty.* 


To  walk  this  way :  I  never  do  him  wrong, 

But  he  does  bay  my  injuries,  to  be  friends:  i 

Pays  dear  for  my  offences  s.  [Exit. 

Post.  Should  we  be  taking  leave 

As  long  a  term  as  yet  we  have  to  live, 
The  loathness  to  depart  would  grow :  Adieu  1 

Imo.  Nay,  stay  a  little : 
Were  you  but  riding  forth  to  air  yourself, 
Such  parting  were  too  petty.     Look  here,  love ; 
This  diamond  was  my  mother's:  take  it,  heart; 
But  keep  it  till  you  woo  another  wife, 
When  Imogen  is  dead. 

Post.  How!  how!  another? — 

You  gentle  gods,  give  me  but  this  I  have, 
And  sear  up3  my  embracements  from  a  next 
With  bonds  of  death ! — Remain,  remain  thou  here 

[Putting  on  the  Ring* 
While  sense  4  ban  keep  it  on !  And  sweetest,  fairest, 
As  I  my  poor  self  did  exchange  for  you, 
To  your  so  infinite  loss ;  so,  in  our  trifles 
I  still  win  of  you :  For  my  sake,  wear  this ; 
It  is  a  manacle  of  love ;  I'll  place  it 
Upon  this  fairest  prisoner. 

[Putting  a  Bracelet  on  her  Arm. 

8  '  He  gives  me  a  valuable  consideration  in  flew  kindness 
(purchasing,  as  it  were,  the  wrong  I  have  done  him),  in  order 
to  renew  our  amity,  and  make  ns  friends  again/ 

3  Shakspeare  poetically  calls  the  cere-cloths,  in  which  the 
dead  are  wrapped,  the  bonds  of  death.  There  was  no  distinction 
in  ancient  orthography  between  seare,  to  dry,  to  wither;  and 
searet  to  dress  or  cover  with  wax.  Cere-cloth  is  most  frequently 
spelled  seare-cloth.    In  Hamlet  we  have : — 

'  Why,  thy  canonized  bones  hearsed  in  death 

Have  barst  their  cerements,* 
%  *  i.  e.  while  I  have  sensation  to  retain  it.  There  can  be  no 
doubt  that  it  refers  to  the  ring,  and  it  is  equally  obvious  that 
thee  would  have  been  more  proper.  Whether  this  error  is  to  be 
laid  to  the  poet's  charge  or  to  that  of  careless  printing,  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  decide.  M alone,  however,  has  shown  that  there 
are  many  passages  in  these  plays  of  equally  loose  construction. 


Imo.  O,  the  gods ! 

When  shall  we  sea  again  ? 

Enter  Cymbeline  and  Lords. 

Post.  Alack,  the  king ! 

Cym.  Thou  basest  thing,  avoid !  hence,  from  my 
sight ! 
If,  after  this  command,  thou  fraught  the  court 
With  thy  unworthiness,  thou  diest:  Away! 
Thou  art  poison  to  my  blood. 

Post'.  The  gods  protect  you ! 

And  bless  the  good  remainders  of  the  court ! 
I  am  gone.  [Exit. 

Imo.  There  cannot  be  a  pinch  in  death 

More  sharp  than  this  is. 

Cym.  O  disloyal  thing, 

That  should'st  repair  5  my  youth;  thou  heapest 
A  year's  age  on  me6! 

Imo.  I  beseech  you,  sir, 

Harm  not  yourself  with  your  vexation :  I 
Am  senseless  of  your  wrath;  a  touch  more  rare7 
Subdues  all  pangs,  all  fears. 

*  i.  e.  renovate  my  youth,  make  me  young  again.  '  To  repaire 
(according  to  Baret)  is  to  restore  to  the  first  state,  to  renew.' 
So  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  :— 

' it  much  repairs  me 

To  talk  of  your  good  father/ 
8  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads : — 

' thou  heapest  many 

A  year's  age  on  me !' 
Some  such  emendation  seems  necessary. 

7  '  A  touch  more  rare'  is '  a  more  exquisite  feeling,  a  superior 
sensation.'     So  in  The  Tempest : — 

'  Hast  thou  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
Of  their  afflictions/ 

And  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra : — 

'  The  death  of  Fulvia,  with  more  urgent  touches, 
Do  strongly  speak  to  us/ 
A  passage  in  King  Lear  will  illustrate  Imogen's  meaning  :— 
'  —  where  the  greater  malady  is  fi&'d, 
The  lesser  is  scarce  felt/ 

12  CYMBELINE.  ACT  1. 1 

Cym.  Past  grace?  obedience  1 

Imo.  Past  hope,  and  in  despair;  that  way,  past 

Cym.  That  might'st  have  had  the  sole  son  of  my 

queen ! 
Imo.  O  bless'd,  that  I  might  not!   I  chose  an 
And  did  avoid  a  puttock8. 

Cym.  Thou  took'st  a  beggar ;  would'st  have  made 
my  throne 
A  seat  for  baseness. 

Imo.  No;  I  rather  added 

A  lustre  to  it. 

Cym.  O  thou  vile  one ! 

Imo.  Sir, 

It  is  your  fault  that  I  have  lov'd  Posthumus : 
You  bred  him  as  my  playfellow ;  and  he  is 
A  man,  worth  any  woman :  overbuys  me 
Almost  the  sum  he  pays9. 

Cym.  "What ! — art  thou  mad  f 

Imo.  Almost,  sir:  Heaven  restore  me ! — 'Would 
I  were 
A  neat-herd's  daughter !  and  my  Leonatus  . 
Our  neighbour  shepherd's  son ! 

Re-enter  Queen. 

Cym.  Thou  foolish  thing ! — 

They  were  again  together :  you  have  done 

[To  the  Queen. 
Not  after  our  command.     Away  with  her, 
And  pen  her  up. 

Queen.  'Beseech  your  patience : — Peace, 

Dear  lady  daughter,  peace ;  Sweet  sovereign, 

?  A  puttock  is  a  mean  degenerate  species  of  hawk,  too  worth- 
less to  deserve  training. 

9  '  My  worth  is  not  half  equal  to  his/ 


Leave  us  to  ourselves;   and  make  yourself  some 

Out  of  your  best  advice10. 

Cym.  Nay,  let  her  languish 

A  drop  of  blood  a  day ;  and,  being  aged, 
Die  of  this  folly X1 !  [Exit. 

Enter  Pisanio. 

Queen.  Fye ! — you  must  give  way : 

Here  is  your  servant. — How  now,  sir?  What  news  ? 

Pis.  My  lord  your  son  drew  on  my  master. 

Queen.  Ha ! 

No  harm,  I  trust,  is  done? 

Pis.  There  might  have  been. 

But  that  my  master  rather  play'd  than  fought, 
And  had  no  help  of  anger :  they  were  parted 
By  gentlemen  at  hand. 

Queen.  I  am  very  glad  on't. 

Imo.  Your  son's  my  father's*  friend :  he  stakes  his 
part. — 
To  draw  upon  an  exile!— O  brave  sir? — 
I  would  they  were  in  Africk  both  together; 
Myself  by  with  a  needle,  that  I  might  prick 
The  goer  back.— Why  came  you  from  your  master  ? 

Pis.  On  his  command :  He  would  not  suffer  me* 
To  bring  him  to  the  haven :  left  these  notes 
Of  what  commands  I  should  be  subject  to, 
When  it  pleas'd  you  to  employ  me. 

Queen.  This  hath  been 

10  Advice  is  consideration,  reflection.    Thus  in  Measure  for 
Measure  :— 

'  Bat  did  repent  me  after  more  advice.1 

11  This  is  a  bitter  form  of  malediction,  almost  congenial  to* 
that  in  Othello  :— 

' may  his  pernicious  soul 

Rot  half  a  grain  a  day.'  * 

VOL.  IX.  C 


Your  faithful  servant :  I  dare  lay  mine  honour, 
He  will  remain  so. 

Pis.  I  humbly  thank  your  highness. 

Queen.  Pray,  walk  a  while. 

Imo.  About  some  half  hour  hence, 

I  pray  you,  speak  with  me :  you  shall,  at  least, 
Go  see  my  lord  aboard :  for  this  time,  leave  me. 


SCENE  III.     A  publick  Place. 

Enter  Cloten,  and  Two  Lords. 

1  Lord.  Sir,  I  would  advise  you  to  take  a  shirt; 
the  violence  of  action  hath  made  you  reek  as  a 
sacrifice:  Where  air  comes  out,  air  comes  in: 
there's  none  abroad  so  wholesome  as  that  you  vent 

Clo.  If  my  shirt  were  bloody,  then  to  shift  it-^- 
Have  I  hurt  him? 

2  Lord.  No,  faith;  not  so  much  as  his  patience. 


1  Lord.  Hurt  him  ?  his  body's  a  passable  car- 
cass, if  he  be  not  hurt :  it  is  a  thoroughfare  for  steel 
if  it  be  not  hurt. 

2  Lord.  His  steel  was  in  debt;  it  went  o'the 
backside  the  town.  [Aside. 

Clo.  The  villain  would  not  stand  me. 
2  Lord.   No.;  but  he  fled  forward  still,  toward 
your  face.  [Aside. 

1  Lord.  Stand  you !  you  have  land  enough  of 
your  own:  but  he  added  to  your  having;  gave  you 
some  ground. 

2 Lord.  As  many  inches  as  you  have  oceans: 
Puppies !  [Aside. 

Clo.  I  would,  they  had  not  come  between  us. 

2  Lord.  So  would  I,  till  you  had  measured  how 
long  a  fool  you  were  upon  the  ground.  [Aside. 


Clo.  And  that  she  should  love  this  fellow,  and 
refuse  me ! 

2  Lord.  If  it  be  a  sin  to  make  a  true  election,  she 
is  damned.  [Aside. 

1  Lord.  Sir,  as  I  told  you  always,  her  beauty  and 
her  brain  go  not  together:  She's  a  good  sign,  but  I 
have  seen  small  reflection  of  her  wit18. 

2  Lord.  She  shines  not  upon  fools,  lest  the  reflec- 
tion should  hurt  her.  [Aside. 

Clo.  Come,  I'll  to  my  chamber:  'Would  there 
had  been  some  hurt  done ! 

2  Lord.  I  wish  not  so ;  unless  it  had  been  the 
fall  of  an  ass,  which  is  no  great  hurt.  [Aside. 

Clo.  You'll  go  with  us? 

1  Lord.  I'll  attend  your  lordship. 
Clo.  Nay,  come,  let's  go  together. 

2  Lord.  Well,  my  lord.  [Exennt. 

SCENE  IV.     A  Room  in  Cymbeline's  Palace* 

Enter  Imogen  and  Pisanio. 

Imo.  I  would  thou  grew'st  unto  the  shores  o'  the 
And  question'dst  every  sail :  if  he  should  write, 
And  I  not  have  it,  'twere  a  paper  lost 
As  offer'd  mercy  is1.     What  was  the  last 
That  he  spake  to  thee  ? 

13 '  Her  beauty  and  her  sense  are  not  equal.'  To  understand  the 
force  of  this  idea,  it  should  be  remembered  that  anciently  almost 
every  sign  had  a  motto,  or  some  attempt  at  a  witticism  under- 
neath. In  a  subsequent  scene  Iachimo,  speaking  of  Imogen, 
says: — 

'  All  of  her  that  is  out  of  door,  most  rich ! 

If  she  be  furnish'd  with  a  mind  so  rare, 

She  is  alone  the  Arabian  bird.' 
1  *  Its  loss  would  be  as  fatal  as  the  loss  of  intended  mercy  to 
a  condemned  criminal.'     A  thought  resembling  this  occurs  in 
All's  Well  that  Ends  Well :  - 

'  Like  a  remorseful  pardon  slowly  carried.* 


.   Pti.  Twas,  His  queen,  his  queen! 

Imo.  Then  wav'd  his  handkerchief? 
■   Pis.  And  kiss'd  it,  madam, 

Imo.  Senseless  linen!  happier  therein  than  I ! — 
Aud  that  was  all  ? 

Pis.  No,  madam;  for  so  long 

As  he  could jnake  me  with  this  eye  or  ear2 
Distinguish  him  from  others,  he  did  keep    • 
The  deck,  with  glove,  or  hat,  or  handkerchief, 
Still  waving,  as  the  fits  and  stirs,  of  his  mind 
Could  best  express  how  slow  his  soul  sail'd  on, 
How  swift  his  ship. 

Imo.  Thou  should'st  have  made  hittt 

As  little  as  a  crow,  or  less  3,  ere  left 
To  after-eye  him. 

Pis.  Madam,  so  I  did. 

..  Imo.    I  would  have  broke  mine  eye-strings; 

crack'd  them,  but 
To  look  upon  him ;  till  the  diminution 
Of  space  4  had  pointed  him  sharp  as  my  needle : 
Nay,  follow 'd  him,  till  he  had  melted  from 
The  smallness  of  a  gnat  to  air;  and  then 
Have  turn'd  mine  eye,  and  wept. — But,  good  PU 

When  shall  we  hear  from  him?   . 

Pis.  Be  assur'd,  madam, 

With  his  next  vantage5. 

'  a  The  old  copy  reads, '  his  eye  or  ear.'  Warburton  made  the 
emendation ;  who  observes,  that  the  expression  is  duKriK&g,  as 
tiie  Greeks  term  it,  the  party  speaking  points  to  the  part  spoken 
of.  The  description  seems  imitated  from  the  eleventh  book  of 
Ovid's  Metamorphosis.    See  Golding's  Translation,  f.  146,  b.  &c, 

3  This  comparison  may  be  illustrated  by  the  following  in  King 
Lear: —  , 

'  — —  the  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the  midway  air 
Seem  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles/ 
,.  4  The  diminution  of  space  is  the  diminution  of  which  space  is 
the  cause. 

*  Opportunity. 


Imo.  I  did  not  take  my  leave  of  him,  but  had 
Most  pretty  things  to  say :  ere  I  could  tell  him, 
How  I  would  think  on  him,  at  certain  hours, 
Such  thoughts,  and  such ;  or  I  could  make  him  swear 
The  shes  of  Italy  should  not  betray 
Mine,  interest,  and  his  honour ;  or  have  charg'd  him, 
At  the  sixth  hour  of  morn,  at  noon,  at  midnight, 
To  encounter  me  with  orisons,  for  then 
I  am  in  heaven  for  him6 :  or  ere  I  could 
Give  him  that  parting  kiss,  which  I  had  set 
Betwixt  two  charming  words,  comes  in  my  father, 
And,  like  the  tyrannous  breathing  of  the  north, 
Shakes  all  our  buds  from  growing  7. 

Enter  a  Lady. 

Lady.  The  queen,  madam, 

Desires  your  highness'  company. 

Imo.  Those  things  I  bid  you  do,  get  them  de- 
I  will  attend  the  queen. 

Pis.  Madam,  I  shall.  [Exeunt. 

6  i.  e. '  to  meet  me  with  reciprocal  prayer,  for  then  m y  solici- 
tations ascend  to  heaven  on  his  behalf.' 

7  i.  e.  our  buds  of  lore  likened  to  the  bads  of  flowers.    So  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

'  This  bud  of  love,  by  summer's  ripening  breath, 
May  prove  a  beauteous  flower  when  next  we  meet.' 
And  in  Shakspeare's  18th  Sonnet :<— 

'  Rough  winds  do  shake  the  darling  buds  of  May/ 
The  following  beautiful  lines  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  pro- 
bably written  by  Shakspeare,  as  he  assisted  Fletoher  in  writing 
that  play,  have  a  similar  train  of  thought : — 
It  is  the  very  emblem  of  a  maid : 
For  when  the  west  wind  courts  her  gentily, 
How  modestly  she  blows  and  paints  the  sun 
With  her  chaste  blushes? — when  the  north  comes 

near  her, 
Rude  and  impatient,  then,  like  chastity, 
She  locks  her  beauties  in  the  bud  again, 
And  leaves  him  to  base  briars.' 



Rome.     An  Apartment  in  Philario's  House. 

Enter  Philario,  Iachimo,  a  Frenchman,  a 
Dutchman,  and  a  Spaniard i. 

lack.  Believe  it,  sir :  I  have  seen  him  in  Britain ; 
he  was  then  of  a  crescent  note,  expected  to  prove 
so  worthy,  as  since  he  hath  been  allowed  the  name 
of:  but  I  could  then  have  looked  on  him  without 
the  help  of  admiration;  though  the  catalogue  of  his 
endowments  had  been  tabled  by  his  side,  and  I  to 
peruse  him  by  items. 

Phi.  You  speak  of  him  when  he  was  less  fur- 
nished, than  now  he  is,  with  that  which  makes2 
him  both  without  and  within. 

French.  I  have  seen  him  in  France :  we  had 
very  many  there,  could  behold  the  sun  with  as  firm 
eyes  as  he. 

lack.  This  matter  of  marrying  his  king's  daugh- 
ter (wherein  he  must  be  weighed  rather  by  her 
value,  than  his  own),  words  him,  I  doubt  not,  a 
great  deal  from  the  matter3. 

French.  And  then  his  banishment: — 

loch.  Ay,  and  the  approbation  of  those,  that 
weep  this  lamentable  divorce,  under  her  colours, 
are  wonderfully  to  extend4  him;  be  it  but  to  fortify 
her  judgment,  which  else  an  easy  battery  might  lay 

1  This  enumeration  of  persons  is  from  the  old  copy;  bat  Myn- 
heer and  the  Don  are  mate  characters. 

2  i.  e.  accomplishes  him. 

3  '  Words  him — a  great  deal  from  the  matter/  makes  the  de- 
scription of  him  very  distant  from  the  truth. 

\  i.  e.  to  magnify  his  good  qualities.    See  Act  i.  Sc.  1,  note  3, 
3.  G. 


flat,  for  taking  a  beggar  without  more5  quality.  But 
how  comes  it,  he  is  to  sojourn  with  you?  How 
creeps  acquaintance? 

Phi.  His  father  and  I  were  soldiers  together; 
to  whom  I  have  been  often  bound  for  no  less  than 
my  life : 

Enter  Posthumus. 

Here  comes  the  Briton:  Let  him  be  so  entertained 
amongst  you,  as  suits,  with  gentlemen  of  your 
knowing,  to  a  stranger  of  his  quality. — I  beseech 
you  all,  be  better  known  to  this  gentleman ;  whom 
I  commend  to  you,  as  a  noble  friend  of  mine: 
How  worthy  he  is,  I  will  leave  to  appear  hereafter, 
rather  than  story  him  in  his  own  hearing. 

French.  Sir,  we  have  known  together  in  Orleans. 

Post.  Since  when  I  have  been  debtor  to  you  fof 
courtesies,  which  I  will  be  ever  to  pay,  and  yet 
pay  still. 

French.  Sir,  you  o'er-rate  my  poor  kindness :  I 
was  glad  I  did  atone6  my  countryman  and  you;  it 
had  been  pity,  you  should  have  been  put  together 
with  so  mortal  a  purpose,  as  then  each  bore,  upon 
importance7  of  so  slight  and  trivial  a  nature. 

Post.  By  your  pardon,  sir,  I  was  then  a  young 
traveller:  rather  shunn'd  to  go  even  with  what  I 
heard,  than  in  my  every  action  to  be  guided  by 

5  The  old  copy  reads,  less.  The  poet  has  in  other  places  en- 
tangled himself  with  the  force  of  this  word  in  construction, 
Thus  in  the  Winter's  Tale  :— 

' I  ne'er  beard  yet 

That  any  of  these  holder  vices  wanted 
Less  impudence  to  gainsay  what  they  did, 
Than  to  perform  it  first.' 
See  vol.  iv.  p.  49. 

6  i.  e.  reconcile.     Vide  vol.  iii.  p.  211. 

7  Importance  is  importunity.    See  vol.i.  p.  394. 


others9  experiences8:  but,  upon  my  mended  judg- 
ment (if  I  offend  not  to  say  it  is  mended),  my 
quarrel  was  not  altogether  slight. 

French.  'Faith,  yes,  to  be  put  to  the  arbitrement 
of  swords ;  and  by  such  two,  that  would,  by  all 
likelihood,  have  confounded9  one  the  other,  or  have 
fallen  both. 

lack.  Can  we,  with  manners,  ask  what  was  the 
difference  ? 

French.  Safely,  I  think:  'twas  a  contention  in 
publick,  which  may,  without  contradiction,  suffer 
the  report.  It  was  much  like  an  argument  that 
fell  out  last  night,  where  each  of  us  fell  in  praise  of 
our  country  mistresses:  This  gentleman  at  that 
time  vouching  (and  upon  warrant  of  bloody  affirma- 
tion), his  to  be  more  fair,  virtuous,  wise,  chaste, 
constant-qualified,  and  less  attemptible,  than  any 
the  rarest  of  our  ladies  in  France. 

lack.  That  lady  is  not  now  living;  or  this  gen- 
tleman's opinion,  by  this,  worn  out 

Post.  She  holds  her  virtue  still,  and  I  my  mind. 

lack.  You  must  not  so  far  prefer  her  'fore  ours 
of  Italy. 

Post.  Being  so  far  provoked  as  I  was  in  France, 
I  would  abate  her  nothing;  though  I  profess  myself 
her  adorer,  not  her  friend 10. 

8  '  Rather  studied  to  avoid  conducting  himself  by  the  opinions 
of  others,  than  to  be  guided  by  their  experience.' 

9  i.  e.  destroyed.  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2, 
p.  446 : — 

'  What  willingly  he  did  confound  he  wail'd.' 

10  Friend  and  lover  were  formerly  synonymous.  Posthumus 
means  to  bestow  the  most  exalted  praise  on  Imogen,  a  praise 
the  more  valuable  as  it  was  the  result  of  reason,  not  of  amorous 
dotage.  I  make  my  avowal,  says  he,  in  the  character  of  her 
adorer,  not  of  her  possessor.  I  speak  of  her  as  a  being  I  reve- 
rence, not  as  a  beauty  I  enjoy.  I  rather  profess  to  describe  her 
with  the  devotion  of  a  worshipper,  than  the  raptures  of  a  lover. 


lack.  As  fair,  and  as  good  (a  kind  of  hand-in- 
hand  comparison),  had  been  something  too  fair, 
and  too  good,  for  any  lady  in  Britany.  If  she  went 
before  others  J  have  seen,  as  that  diamond  of  yours 
out-lustres  many  I  have  beheld,  I  could  not  but 
believe 11  she  excelled  many :  but  I  have  not  sees 
the  most  precious  diamond  that  is,  nor  you  the 

Past.  I  praised  her,  as  I  rated  her:  so  do  I  my 

lack.  What  do  you  esteem  it  at? 

Post.  More  than  the  world  enjoys. 

lack.  Either  your  unparagoned  mistress  is  dead, 
or  she's  outpriz'd  by  a  trifle. 

.PosU  You  are  mistaken :  the  one  maybe  sold, 
or  given ;  if  there  were  wealth  enough  for  the  pur- 
chase, or  merit  for  the  gift :  the  other  is  not  a  thing 
for  sale,  and  only  the  gift  of  the  gods. 

lack.  Which  the  gods  have  given  you? 
:   Post.  Which,  by  their  graces,  I  will  keep. 

lack.  You  may  wear  her  in  title  yours:  but,  you 
know,  strange  fowl  light  upon  neighbouring  ponds. 
Your  ring  may  be  stolen  too :  so,  of  your  brace  of 
unprizeable  estimations,  the  one  is  but  frail,  and 
the  other  casual:  a  cunning  thief,  or  a  that-way 
accomplished  courtier,  would  hazard  the  winning 
both  of  first  and  last. 

.   Post.  Your  Italy  contains  none  so  accomplished 
a  courtier,  to  convince 12  the  honour  of  my  mistress ; 

This  sense  of  the  word  also  appears  in  a  subsequent  remark  of 
Iachimo : — 

•  Yon  are  &  friend,  and  therein  the  wiser.' 
i.  e.  yon  are  a  lover,  and  therefore  show  your  wisdom  in  opposing 
all  experiments  that  may  bring  your  lady's  chastity  into  question. 

11  The  old  copy  reads, '  I  could  not  believe  she  excell'd  many.' 
Mr.  Heath  proposed  to  read,  '  I  could  but  believe,'  &c.  The 
emendation  in  the  text  is  Malone's. 

12  i.  e.  overcome.    See  vol.  i.  p.  237  and  301. 


if,  in  the  holding  or  loss  of  that,  you  term  her  frail. 
I  do  nothing  doubt,  you  have  store  of  thieves ;  not- 
withstanding I  fear  not  my  ring. 

Phi.  Let  us  leave  here,  gentlemen. 

Post.  Sir,  with  all  my  heart.  This  worthy  sig- 
nior,  I  thank  him,  makes  no  stranger  of  me :  we 
are  familiar  at  first. 

lack.  With  five  times  so  much  conversation,  I 
should  get  ground  of  your  fair  mistress :  make  her 
go  back,  even  to  the  yielding;  had  I  admittance, 
and  opportunity  to  friend. 

Post.  No,  no.  v 

lack.  I  dare,  thereon,  pawn  the  moiety  of  my 
estate  to  your  ring;  which,  in  my  opinion,  o'er- 
values  it  something :  But  I  make  my  wager  rather 
against  your  confidence,  than  her  reputation :  and, 
to  bar  your  offence  herein  too,  I  durst  attempt  it 
against  any  lady  in  the  world. 

Post.  You  are  a  great  deal  abused 13  in  too  bold 
a  persuasion;  and  I  doubt  not  you  sustain  what 
you're  worthy  of,  by  your  attempt. 

lack.  What's  that? 

Post.  A  repulse:  Though  your  attempt,  as  you 
call  it,  deserve  more ;  a  punishment  too. 

Phi.  Gentlemen,  enough  of  this :  it  came  in  too 
suddenly;  let  it  die  as  it  was  born,  and,  I  pray, 
you,  be  better  acquainted. 

lack.  'Would  I  had  put  my  estate,  and  my  neigh- 
bour's, on  the  approbation  u  of  what  I  have  spoke. 

Post.  What  lady  would  you  choose  to  assail  ? 

13  i.e.  deceived. 

1  The  Moor's  abused  by  some  most  villanous  knave.' 


14  i.e.  proof. 

' how  many  now  in  health 

Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbation 

Of  what  your  reverence  shall  incite  as  to.' 

King  Henry  V, 

SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  23 

lack.  Yours;  whom  in  constancy,  you  think, 
stands  so  safe.  I  will  lay  you  ten  thousand  ducats 
to  your  ring,  that,  commend  me  to  the  court  where 
your  lady  is,  with  no  more  advantage  than  the  op- 
portunity of  a  second  conference,  and  I  will  bring 
from  thence  that  honour  of  hers,  which  you  imagine 
so  reserved. 

Post.  I  will  wage  against  your  gold,  gold  to  it: 
my  ring  I  hold  dear  as  my  finger;  'tis  part  of  it. 

lack.  You  are  a  friend15,  and  therein  the  wiser. 
If  you  buy  ladies'  flesh  at  a  million  a  dram,  you 
cannot  preserve  it  from  tainting :  But,  I  see,  you 
have  some  religion  in  you;  that  you  fear. 

Past.  This  is  but  a  custom  in  your  tongue ;  you 
bear  a  graver  purpose,  I  hope. 

lack.  I  am  the  master  of  my  speeches15;  and 
would  undergo  what's  spoken,  I  swear. 

Post.  Will  you  ? — I  shall  but  lend  my  diamond 
till  your  return: — Let  there  be  covenants  drawn 
between  us:  My  mistress  exceeds  in  goodness  the 
hugeness  of  your  unworthy  thinking :  I  dare  you  to 
this  match :  here's  my  ring. 

Phi.  I  will  have  it  no  lay. 

lack.  By  the  gods  it  is  one:  If  I  bring  you  no 
sufficient  testimony  that  I  have  enjoyed  the  dearest 
bodily  part  of  your  mistress,  my  ten  thousand  du- 
cats are  yours;  so  is  your  diamond  too.  If  I  come 
off,  and  leave  her  in  such  honour  as  you  have  trust 
in,  she  your  jewel,  this  your  jewel,  and  my  gold 
are  yours : — provided,  I  hare  your  commendation, 
for  my  more  free  entertainment. 

Post.  I  embrace  these  conditions;  let  us  have 
articles  betwixt  us :— only,  thus  far  you  shall  an- 
swer.    If  you  make  your  voyage  upon  her,  and 

15  See  Dote  10  on  this  scene,  p.  20. 

16  '  I  know  what  I  have  said;  I  said  no  more  than  I  meant.' 

24  CYMBELINE.  ACT  t. 

give  me  directly  to  understand  you  hove  prevailed, 
I  am  no  further  your  enemy,  she  is  not  worth  our 
debate :  if  she  remain  unseduced  (you  not  making 
it  appear  otherwise),  for  your  ill  opinion,  and  the 
assault  you  have  made  to  her  chastity,  you  shall 
answer  me  with  your  sword.     • 

lack.  Your  hand;  a  covenant:  We  will  have 
these  things  set  down  by  lawful  counsel,  and  straight 
away  for  Britain ;  lest  the  bargain  should  catch 
cold,  and  starve:  I  will  fetch  my  gold,  and  have 
our  two  wagers  recorded. 

Post.  Agreed.  [Exeunt  Post,  and  Iach. 

French.  Will  this  hold,  think  you  ? 

Phi.  Signior  Iachimo  will  not  from  it.  Pray,  let 
us  follow  'em.  [Exeunt. 


Britain.     A  Room  in  Cymbeline's  Palace* 

Enter  Queen,  Ladies,  and  Cornelius. 

Queen.  Whiles  yet  the  dew's  on  ground,  gather 
those  flowers; 
Make  haste :  Who  has  the  note  of  them  ? 

1  Lady.  I,  madam. 

Queen.  Despatch. [Exeunt  Ladies. 

Now,  master  doctor;  have  you  brought  those  drugs? 

Cor.  Pleasetb  your  highness,  ay :  here  they  are, 
madam :  [Presenting  a  small  Box, 

But  I  beseech  your  grace  (without  offence ; 
My  conscience  bids  me  ask) ;  wherefore  you  have  < 
Commanded  of  me  these  most  poisonous  compounds, 
Which  are  the  movers  of  a  languishing  death; 
But,  though  slow,  deadly  ?  ,  ■> 

Queen.  I  do  wonder,  doctor, 

Thou  ask'st  me  such,  a,  question:  Have  I  not  been 


Thy  pupil  long?  Hast  thou  not  leara'd  me  how 
To  make  perfumes  ?  distil  ?  preserve  ?  yea,  so, 
That  our  great  king  himself  doth  woo. me  oft 
For  my  confections  ?  Having  thus  far  proceeded 
(Unless  thou  think'st  me  devilish),  is't  not  meet 
That  I  did  amplify  my  judgment  in 
Other  conclusions *  ?  I  will  try  the  forces 
Of  these  thy  compounds  on  such  creatures  as 
We  count  not  worth  the  hanging  (but  none  human), 
To  try  the  vigour  of  them,  and  apply 
Allayments  to  their  act;  and  by  them  gather 
Their  several  virtues,  and  effects. 

Cor.  Your  highness 

Shall  from  this  practice  but  make  hard  your  heart2: 
Besides,  the  seeing  these  effects  will  be 
Both  noisome  and  infectious. 

Queen.  O,  content  thee. — 

Enter  Pisanio. 

Here  comes  a  flattering  rascal ;  upon  him    [Aside. 
Will  I  first  work :  he's  for  his  master, 
And  enemy  to  my  son. — How  now,  Pisanio  ? — 
Doctor,  your  service  for  this  time  is  ended; 
Take  your  own  way. 

Cor.  I  do  suspect  you,  madam; 

But  you  shall  do  no  harm.  [Aside. 

Queen.  Hark  thee,  a  word. — 

[To  Pisanio. 

1  Conclusions  are  experiments.  '  I  commend  (says  Walton) 
an  angler  that  trieth  conclusions,  and  improves  his  art.' 

3  '  This  thought  would  probably  have  been  more  amplified, 
had  onr  author  lived  to  be  shocked  with  such  experiments  as 
have  been  published  in  later  times,  by  a  race  of  men  who  have 
practised  tortures  without  pity,  and  related  them  without  shame, 
and  are  yet  suffered  to  erect  their  heads  among  human  beings.* 

'  Cape  saxa  manu,  cape  robora,  pastor.* 


VOL.  IX.  D 

26  \  CYMBELINE.  ACT  I. 

Car.  [Aside.]  I  do  not  like  her3.    She  doth  think 
she  has 
Strange  lingering  poisons :  I  do  know  her  spirit, 
And  will  not  trust  one  of  her  malice  with 
A  drug  of  such  damn'd  nature :  Those,  she  has, 
Will  stupify  and  dull  the  sense  awhile  : 
Which  first,  perchance,  she'll  prove  on  cats,  and  dogs ; 
Then  afterward  up  higher :  but  there  is 
No  danger  in  what  show  of  death  it  makes, 
More  than  the  locking  up  the  spirits  a  time, 
To  be  more  fresh,  reviving.     She  is  fool'd 
With  a  most  false  effect;  and  I  the  truer, 
So  to  be  false  with  her. 

Queen.  No  further  service,  doctor, 

Until  I  send  for  thee. 

Car.  I  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Queen.  Weeps  she  still,  say'st  thou  ?  Dost  thou 
think,  in  time 
She  will  not  quench4;  and  let  instructions  enter 
Where  folly  now  possesses  1  Do  thou  work ; 
When  thou  shalt  bring  me  word,  she  loves  my  son, 
I'll  tell  thee,  on  the  instant,  thou  art  then 
As  great  as  is  thy  master :  greater ;  for 
His  fortunes  all  lie  speechless,  and  his  name 
Is  at  last  gasp :  Return  he  cannot,  nor 
Continue  where  he  is;  to  shift  his  being5, 
Is  to  exchange  one  misery  with  another ; 
And  every  day,  that  comes,  comes  to  decay 
A  day's  work  in  him :  What  shalt  thou  expect, 

3  This  soliloquy  is  pronounced  by  Johnson  to  be  '  very  inarti- 
ficial, and  that  Cornelius  makes  a  long  speech  to  tell  himself 
what  himself  knows.'  The  great  critic  forgot  that  it  was  in- 
tended for  the  instruction  of  the  audience,  to  relieve  their  anxiety 
at  mischievous  ingredients  being  left  in  the  hands  of  the  Queen. 
It  is  no  less  useful  to  prepare  us  for  the  return  of  Imogen  to 

4  i.  e.  grow  cool.  4  To  change  his  abode. 


To  be  depender  on  a  thing  that  leans6? 
Who  cannot  be  new  built;  nor  has  no  friends, 

[  The  Queen  drops  a  Box:  Pisanio  takes  it  up. 
So  much  as  but  to  prop  him  ? — Thou  tak'st  up 
Thou  know'st  not  what;  but  take  it  for  thy  labour: 
It  is  a  thing  I  made,  which  hath  the  king 
Five  times  redeem'd  from  death :  I  do  not  know 
What  is  more  cordial: — Nay,  I  pr'ythee,  take  it; 
It  is  an  earnest  of  a  further  good 
That  I  mean  to  thee.    Tell  thy  mistress  how 
The  case  stands  with  her ;  do't,  as  from  thyself. 
Think  what  a  chance  thou  changest  on7;  but  think 
Thou  hast  thy  mistress  still;  to  boot,  my  son, 
Who  shall  take  notice  of  thee;  I'll  move  the  king 
To  any  shape  of  thy  preferment,  such 
As  thoult  desire;  and  then  myself,  I  chiefly, 
That  set  thee  on  to  this  desert,  am  bound 
To  load  thy  merit  richly.     Call  my  women : 
Think  on  my  words.    [Exit  Pisa.] — A  sly  and 

constant  knave ; 
Not  to  be  shak'd :  the  agent  for  his  master ; 
And  the  remembrancer  of  her,  to  hold 
The  hand  fast  to  her  lord. — I  have  given  him  that, 
Which,  if  he  take,  shall  quite  unpeople  her 
Of  liegers8  for  her  sweet ;  and  which  she,  after, 
Except  she  bend  her  humour,  shall  be  assur'd 

0  That  inclines  towards  its  fall. 

7  '  Think  with  what  a  fair  prospect  of  mending  your  fortunes 
yon  now  change  your  present  service.'  It  has  been  proposed 
to  read:— 

'  Think  what  a  chance  thou  chancest  on.' 

'  Think  what  a  change  thou  chancesi  on.' 
Bat  there  seems  to  be  no  necessity  for  alteration. 

8  A  Ueger  ambassador  is  one  that  resides  in  a  foreign  court  to 
promote  his  master's  interest.    So  in  Measure  for  Measure : — 

'  Lord  Angelo,  haying  affairs  to  heaven, 
Intends  yon  for  his  swift  embassador, 
Where  yon  shall  be  an  everlasting  Ittger.' 


Re-enter  Pisanio,  and  Ladies. 

To  taste  of  too. — So,  so ; — well  done,  well  done : 
The  violets,  cowslips,  and  the  primroses, 
Bear  to  my  closet: — Fare  thee  well,  Pisanio; 
Think  on  my  words.     [Exeunt  Queen  and  Ladies. 

Pis.  And  shall  do »: 

But  when  to  my  good  lord  I  prove  untrue, 
I'll  choke  myself :  there's  all  I'll  do  for  you.  [Exit. 

SCENE  VII.     Another  Room  in  the  same. 

Enter  Imogen. 

Imo.  A  father  cruel,  and  a  step-dame  false; 
A  foolish  suitor  to  a  wedded  lady, 
That  hath  her  husband  banish'd ; — O,  that  husband ! 
My  supreme  crown  of  grief!  and  those  repeated 
Vexations  of  it !  Had  I  been  thief-stolen, 
As  my  two  brothers,  happy !  but  most  miserable 
Is  the  desire  that's  glorious  * :  Blessed  be  those, 
How  mean  soe'er,  that  have  their  honest  wills, 
Which  seasons  comfort. — Who  may  this  be?  Fye ! 


Enter  Pisanio  and  Iachimo. 

Pis.  Madam,  a  noble  gentleman  of  Rome; 
Comes  from  my  lord  with  letters. 

lack.  Change  you,  madam? 

The  worthy  Leonatus  is  in  safety, 
And  greets  your  highness  dearly.  [Presents  a  Letter. 

9  Some  words,  which  rendered  this  sentence  less  abrupt,  and 
perfected  the  metre  of  it,  appear  to  have  been  omitted  in  the  old 

1  Imogen's  sentiment  appears  to  be,  '  Had  I  been  stolen  by 
thieves  in  my  infancy,  I  had  been  happy.  Bat  how  pregnant 
with  misery  is  that  station  which  is  called  glorious,  and  so  much 
desired.  Happier  far  are  those,  bow  mean  soever  their  condi- 
tion, that  have  their  honest  wills;  it  is  this  which  seasons  com- 
fort, (i.  e.  tempers  it,  or  makes  it  more  pleasant  and  acceptable). 
-See  Hamlet,. Act i.  Sc.  3 : — '  My  blessing  season  this  in  yon.' 


Imo.  Thanks,  good  sir: 

You  are  kindly  welcome. 

lack.  All  of  her,  that  is  out  of  door,  most  rich ! 

If  she  be  furnish'd  with  a  mind  so  rare, 
She  is  alone  the  Arabian  bird ;  and  I 
Have  lost  the  wager.     Boldness  be  my  friend! 
Arm  me,  audacity,  from  head  to  foot! 
Or,  like  the  Parthian,  I  shall  flying  fight; 
Rather,  directly  fly. 

Imo.  [Reads.] — He  is  one  of  the  noblest  note,  to 
whose  kindnesses  I  am  most  infinitely  tied.  Reflect 
upon  him  accordingly,  as  you  value  your  truest2 


So  far  I  read  aloud : 

But  even  the  very  middle  of  my  heart 

Is  warm'd  by  the  rest,  and  takes  it  thankfully. — 

You  are  as  welcome,  worthy  sir,  as  I 

Have  worc(s  to  bid  you ;  and  shall  find  it  so, 

In  all  that  I  can  do. 

lack.  Thanks,  fairest  lady. — 

What !  are.  men  mad  ?  Hath  nature  given  them  eyes 
To  see  this  vaulted  arch,  and  the  rich  crop 
Of  sea  and  land,  which  can  distinguish  'twixt 
The  fiery  orbs  above,  and  the  twinn'd  stones 
Upon  the  number'd  beach3?  and  can  we  not 
Partition  make  with  spectacles  so  precious 
Twixt  fair  and  foul? 

Imo.  What  makes  your  admiration  ? 

lack.  It  cannot  be  i'  the  eye ;  for  apes  and  monkeys 

3  The  old  copy  reads,  trust.  The  emendation  was  suggested 
by  Mason j  is  defended  by  Steeyens ;  and,  of  course,  opposed  by 

3  We  mast  either  believe  that  the  poet  by  '  number'd  beach  ' 
means  numerous  beach/  or  else  that  he  wrote  '  th*  unnumbered 
beach ;'  which,  indeed,  seems  most  probable. 

D  2 

30  CYMBEL1NE.  ACT  I. 

'Twixt  two  such  shes,  would  chatter  this  way,  and 
Contemn  with  mows4  the  other :  Nor  i'the  judgment ; 
For  idiots,  in  this  case  of  favour,  would 
.Be  wisely  definite :  Nor  i'the  appetite ; 
Sluttery  to  such  neat  excellence  oppos'd 
Should  make  desire  vomit  emptiness, 
Not  so  allur'd  to  feed5. 

Imo.  What  is  the  matter,  trow? 

lack.  The  cloyed  will 

(That  satiate  yet  unsatisfied  desire, 
That  tub  both  fill'd  and  running),  ravening  first 
The  lamb,  longs  after  for  the  garbage. 

Imo.  What,  dear  sir, 

Thus  raps  you  ?  Are  you  well  ? 

lack.   Thanks,  madam;    well: — 'Beseech  you, 
sir,  desire  [To  Pisanio. 

My  man's  abode  where  I  did  leave  him:  he 
Is  strange  and  peevish6. 

Pis.  I  was  going,  sir, 

To  give  him  welcome.  [Exit  Pisanio. 

Imo.  Continues  well  my  lord  ?    His  health,  be- 
seech you? 

lack.  Well,  madam. 

Imo.  Is  he  dispos'd  to  mirth?  I  hope,  he  is. 

4  To  mow,  or  moe,  is  to  make  months. 

5  Iachimo,  in  bis  counterfeited  rapture,  has  shown  how  the 
eyes  and  the  judgment  would  determine  in  favour  of  Imogen,  com- 
paring her  with  the  supposititious  present  mistress  of  Posthuinus, 
he  proceeds  to  say,  that  appetite  too  would  give  the  same  suf- 
frage. Desire  (says  he)  when  it  approached  sluttery,  and  con- 
sidered it  in  comparison  with  such  neat  excellence,  wonld  not 
only  be  not  so  allured  to  feed,  but,  seized  with  a  fit  of  loathing, 
wonld  vomit  emptiness,  would  feel  the  convulsions  of  disgust, 
though,  being  unfed,  it  had  no  object. 

6  i.  e.  he  is  a  foreigner  and  foolish,  or  silly.  See  vol.  iv.  p.  172, 
note  6.    Iachimo  says  again  at  the  latter  end  of  this  scene : — 

'  And  I  am  something  curious,  being  strange, 
To  have  them  in  safe  stowage.' 
Here  also  strange  means  a  stranger  or  foreigner. 

sc.  vii.  xymbeLine.  :31 

lack*  Exceeding  pleasant:  none  a  stranger  there 
So  merry  and  so  gamesome :  he  is  call'd 
The  Briton  reveller. 

Imo.  When  he  was  here. 

He  did  incline  to  sadness ;  and  oft-times 
Not  knowing  why. 

lack.  I  never  saw  him  sad. 

There  is  a  Frenchman  his  companion,  one 
An  eminent  monsieur,  that,  it  seems,  much  loves 
A  Gallian  girl  at  home:  he  furnaces7 
The  thick  sighs  from  him;  whiles  the  jolly  Briton 
(Your  lord,  I  mean),  laughs  from's  free  lungs, 

cries,  O! 
Can  my  sides  hold,  to  think,  that  man, — who  knows 
By  history,  report,  or  his  own  proof, 
What  woman  is,  yea,  what  she  cannot  choose 
But  must  be, — will  his  free  hours  languish  for 
Assured  bondage? 

Imo.  Will  my  lord  say  so  ? 

lach.  Ay,  madam;  with  his  eyes  in  flood  with 
It  is  a  recreation  to  be  by, 
And  hear  him  mock  the  Frenchman:  But,  heavens 

Some  men  are  much  to  blame. 

Imo.  Not  he,  I  hope. 

.lach.  Not  he :  But  yet  heaven's  bounty  towards 
him  might 
Be  us'd  more  thankfully.     In  himself,  'tis  much8; 
In  you, — which  I  count  his,  beyond  all  talents, — 

7  We  have  the  same  expression  in  Chapman's  preface  to  his 
translation  of  the  Shield  of  Homer,  1598: — '  Furnaceth  the  uni- 
versal sighes  and  complaintes  of  this  transposed  world*'  And  in 
As  Yon  Like  It: — 

'  Sighing  tike  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad/ 

8  '  If  he  merel  v  regarded  his  own  character,  without  any  con- 
sideration of  his  wife,  his  conduct  would  be  unpardonable*' 


Whilst  I  am  bound  to  wonder,  I  am  bound 
To  pity  too. 

Imo.  What  do  you  pity,  sir? 

lack.  Two  creatures,  heartily. 

Imo.  Am  I  one,  sir  ? 

You  look  on  me ;  What  wreck  discern  you  in  me, 
Deserves  your  pity  ? 

lack.  Lamentable!  What! 

To  hide  me  from  the  radiant  sun,  and  solace 
I'  the  dungeon  by  a  snuff? 

Imo.  I  pray  you,  sir, 

Deliver  with  more  openness  your  answers 
To  my  demands.     Why  do  you  pity  me  ? 

lack.  That  others  do, 

I  was  about  to  say,  enjoy  your But 

It  is  an  office  of  the  gods  to  venge  it, 
Not  mine  to  speak  on't. 

Imo.  You  do  seem  to  know 

Something  of  me,  or  what  concerns  me ;  'Pray  you 
(Since  doubting  things  go  ill,  often  hurts  more 
Than  to  be  sure  they  do :  For  certainties 
Either  are  past  remedies;  or,  timely  knowing9, 
The  remedy  then  born),  discover  to  me 
What  both  you  spur  and  stop10.  * 

lack.  Had  I  this  cheek 

To  bathe  my  lips  upon ;  this  hand,  whose  touch, 
Whose  every  touch,  would  force  the  feeler's  soul 
To  the  oath  of  loyalty ;  this  object,  which 
Takes  prisoner  the  wild  motion  of  mine  eye, 
Fixing  it  only  here :  should  I  (damn'd  then), 
Slaver  with  lips  as  common  as  the  stairs 

9  It  seems  probable  that  knowing  is  here  an  error  of  the  press 
for  known. 

10  '  The  information  which  yon  seem  to  press  forward  and 
yet  withhold.'  The  allusion  is  to  horsemanship.  So  in  Sidney's 
Arcadia : — '  She  was  like  a  horse  desirous  to  ronne,  and  mise- 
rably spurred,  bat  so  short-reined,  as  he  cannot  stirre  forward/ 


That  mount  the  Capitol ;  join  gripes  with  hands 
Made  hard  with  hourly  falsehood  n  (falsehood,  as 
With  labour) ;  then  lie  peeping  in  an  eye, 
Base  and  unlustrous  as  the  smoky  light 
That's  fed  with  stinking  tallow ;  it  were  fit, 
That  all  the  plagues  of  hell  should  at  one  time 
Encounter  such  revolt. 

Imo.  My  lord,  I  fear, 

Has  forgot  Britain. 

lack.  And  himself.     Not  I, 

Inclin'd  to  this  intelligence,  pronounce 
The  beggary  of  his  change ;  but  'tis  your  graces 
That,  from  my  mutest  conscience,  to  my  tongue, 
Charms  this  report  out. 

Into.  Let  me  hear  no  more. 

lack.  O  dearest  soul !  your  cause  doth  strike  my 
With  pity,  that  doth  make  me  sick.     A  lady 
So  fair,  and  fasten'd  to  an  empery 12, 
Would  make  the  great'st  king  double !  to  be  part- 

With  tomboys,  hir'd  with  that  self-exhibition 13, 
Which  your  own  coffers  yield !  with  diseas'd  ven- 

11  Hard  with  falsehood  is  hard  by  being  often  griped  with  fre- 
quent change  of  hands. 

12  Empery  is  a  word  signifying  sovereign  command,  now  obso- 
lete.    Shakspeare  uses  it  in  King  Richard  III.: — 

'  Your  right  of  birth,  your  empery  your  own.' 

13  We  still  call  a  forward  oV  rude  hoyden  a  tomboy.     But  our 
ancestors  seem  to  have  used  the  term  for  a  wanton. 

'  What  humourous  tomboys  be  these  ? — 
The  only  gallant  Messalinas  of  our  age/ 

Lady  Alimony. 

So  in  W.  Warren's  Nurcerie  of  Names,  1581:— 

'  Like  tomboy  es,  such  as  live  in  Rome, 

For  every  knave's  delight.' 
'  Gross  strumpets,  hired  with  the  very  pension  which  you  allow 
your  husband.' 


That  play  with  all  infirmities  for  gold 

Which  rottenness  can  lend  nature!    such  boil'd 

As  well  might  poison  poison  I  Be  reveng'd ; 
Or  she,  that  bore  you,  was  no  queen,  and  you 
Recoil  from  your  great  stock. 

Imo.  Reveng'd ! 

How  should  I  be  reveng'd?  If  this  be  true 
(As  I  have  such  a  heart,  that  both  mine  ears 
Must  not  in  haste  abuse),  if  it  be  true, 
How  should  I  be  reveng'd  ? 

lack.  Should  he  make  me 

Live  like  Diana's  priest,  betwixt  cold  sheets ; 
Whiles  he  is  vaulting  variable  ramps, 
In  your  despite,  upon  your  purse  ?  Revenge  it. 
I  dedicate  myself  to  your  sweet  pleasure ; 
More  noble  than  that  runagate  to  your  bed ; 
And  will  continue  fast  to  your  affection, 
Still  close,  as  sure. 

Imo.  What  ho,  Pisanio ! 

lack.  Let  me  my  service  tender  on  your  lips. 

Imo.  Away ! — I  do  condemn  mine  ears,  that  have 
So  long  attended  thee. — If  thou  wert  honourable, 
Thou  would'st  have  told  this  tale  for  virtue,  not 
For  such  an  end  thou  seek'st;  as  base,  as  strange. 
Thou  wrong'st  a  gentleman,  who  is  as  far 
From  thy  report,  as  thou  from  honour;  and 
Solicit'st  here  a  lady,  that  disdains 
Thee  and  the  devil  alike. — What  ho,  Pisanio ! — 
The  king  my  father  shall  be  made  acquainted 
Of  thy  assault :  if  he  shall  think  it  fit, 
A  saucy  stranger,  in  his  court,  to  mart 
As  in  a  Romish15  stew,  and  to  expound 

14  This  allusion  has  been  already  explained.    See  Timon  of 
Athens,  Act  ii.  Sc.  3,  p.  36. 

15  Romish  for  Roman  was  the  phraseology  of  Shakspeare's 
age.     Thus  in  Claudius  Tiberius  Nero,  1607 :— « In  the  loath- 


His  beastly  mind  to  as ;  he  hath  a  court 
He  little  cares  for,  and  a  daughter  whom 
He  not  respects  at  all. — What  ho,  Pisanio ! — 
'    lack,  O  happy  Leonatus !  I  may  say ; 
The  credit,  that  thy  lady  hath  of  thee, 
Deserves  thy  trust;  and  thy  most  perfect  goodness 
Her  assur'd  credit! — Blessed  live  you  long! 
A  lady  to  the  worthiest  sir,  that  ever 
Country  call'd  his!  and  you  his  mistress,  only 
For  the  most  worthiest  fit !  Give  me  your  pardon. 
I  have  spoke  this,  to  know  if  your  affiance 
Were  deeply  rooted;  and  shall  make  your  lord, 
That  which  he  is,  new  o'er:  And  he  is  one 
The  truest  manner'd;  such  a  holy  witch, 
That  he  enchants  societies  unto  him16: 
Half  all  men's  hearts  are  his. 

Imo.  '  You  make  amends. 

lack.  He  sits  'mongstmen,  like  a  descended  god 17 : 
He  hath  a  kind  of  honour  sets  him  off, 
More  than  a  mortal  seeming.     Be  not  angry, 
Most  mighty  princess,  that  I  have  adventur'd 
To  try  your  taking  of  a  false  report;  which  hath 
Honoured  with  confirmation  your  great  judgment 
In  the  election  of  a  sir  so  rare, 

some  Botnish  stewes.   Drant,  in  bis  translation  of  the  first  epistle 
of  the  second  book  of  Horace,  1567,  has — 

*  The  Romishe  people  wise  in  this,  in  this  point  only  just.' 
And  in  other  places  we  have  the  *  Romish  cirque,'  &c. 

18       ' he  did  in  the  general  bosom  reign 

Of  young  and  old,  and  sexes  both  enchanted— 
Consents  b&citchd,  ere  he  desire,  hare  granted.' 

17  So  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  twenty-third  book  of  the 
Odyssey : — 

' as  he  were 

A  god  descended  from  the  starry  sphere.' 

And  in  Hamlet: — 

' a  station  like  the  herald  Mercury 

New  lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill.' 


Which  you  know,  cannot  err :  The  love  I  bear  him 
Made  me  to  fan  you  thus;  but  the  gods  made  you, 
Unlike  all  others,  chaffless.     Pray  your  pardon. 

Imo.  All's  well,  sir :  Take  my  power  i'  the  court 
for  yours. 

lack.  My  humble  thanks.     I  had  almost  forgot 
To  entreat  your  grace  but  in  a  small  request, 
And  yet  of  moment  too,  for  it  concerns 
Your  lord;  myself,  and  other  noble  friends, 
Are  partners  in  the  business. 

Imo.  Pray,  what  is't? 

lack.  Some  dozen  Romans  of  us,  and  your  lord 
(The  best  feather  of  our  wing 18),  have  mingled  sums,' 
To  buy  a  present  for  the  emperor ; 
Which  I,  the  factor  for  the  rest,  have  done 
In  France :  'Tis  plate,  of  rare  device ;  and  jewels, 
Of  rich  and  exquisite  form;  their  values  great; 
And  I  am  something  curious,  being  strange 19, 
To  have  them  in  safe  stowage;  May  it  please  you 
To  take  them  in  protection  ? 

Imo.  Willingly ; 

And  pawn  mine  honour  for  their  safety :  since 
My  lord  hath  interest  in  them,  I  will  keep  them 
In  my  bed-chamber. 

lack.  They  are  in  a  trunk, 

Attended  by  my  men :  I  will  make  bold 
To  send  them  to  you,  only  for  this  night; 
I  must  aboard  to  morrow. 

Imo.  O,  no,  no. 

lack.  Yes,  I  beseech;  or  I  shall  short  my  word, 
By  lengthening  my  return.     From  Gallia 
I  cross'd  the  seas  on  purpose,  and  on  promise 
To  see  your  grace. 

16  '  Yon  are  so  great  you  would  faine  march  in  fielde, 
That  world  should  judge  you  feathers  of  one  wing.* 

Churchyard's  Warning  to  Wanderers,  1593. 
19  See  note  6,  p.  30  ante. 


Into.  I  thank  you  for  your  pains ; 

But  not  away  to-morrow  ? 

lack.  G,  I  must,  madam : 

Therefore,  I  shall  beseech  you,  if  you  please 
To  greet  your  lord  with  writing,  do't  to-night : 
I  have  outstood  my  time;  which  is  material 
To  the  tender  of  our  present. 

Into.  I  wiH  write. 

Send  your  trunk  to  me ;  it  shall  safe  be  kept, 
And  truly  yielded  you :  You  are  very  welcome. 


ACT  n. 

SCENE  I.     Court  before  Cymbeline's  Palace. 

Enter  CloteN,  and  Two  Lords. 

Clo.  Was  there  ever  man  had  such  luck!  when 
I  kissed  the  jack  upon  an  upcast1,  to  be  hit  away! 
I  had  a  hundred  pound  on't :  And  then  a  whoreson 
jackanapes  must  take  me  up  for  swearing;  as  if  I 
borrowed  mine  oaths  of  him,  and  might  not  spend 
them  at  my  pleasure. 

XLord.  What  got  he  by  that?  You  have  broke 
his  pate  with  your  bowl. 

2  Lord.  If  his  wit  had  been  like  him  that  broke 
it,  it  would  have  ran  all  out.  [Aside. 

Clo.  When  a  gentleman  is  disposed  to  swear,  it 
is  not  for  any  standers-by  to  curtail  his  oaths:  Ha ? 

1  He  is  describing  his  fate  at  bowls.  The  jack  is  the  small 
bowl  at  which  the  others  are  aimed:  he  who  is  nearest  to  it 
wins.  '  To  kiss  the  jack'  is  a  state  of  great  advantage.  The 
expression  is  of  frequent  occurrence  in  the  old  comedies.  The 
jack  is  also  called  the  mistress. 

VOL.  IX.  E 


2  Lord.  No,  my  lord;  nor  [aside]  crop  the  eai 
of  them. 

Clo.  Whoreson  dog ! — I  give  him  satisfaction 
'Would,  he  had  been  one  of  my  rank! 

2  Lord.  To  have  smelt  like  a  fool2.  [Asid 

Clo.  I  am  not  more  vexed  at  any  thing  in  tli 
earth, — A  pox  on't !  I  had  rather  not  be  so  nob] 
as  I  am ;  they  dare  not  fight  with  me,  because  < 
the  queen  my  mother:  every  jack-slave  hath  h 
belly  full  of  fighting,  and  I  must  go  up  and  dow 
like  a  cock  that  nobody  can  match. 

2  Lord.  You  are  a  cock  and  capon  too ;  and  yo 
crow,  cock,  with  your  comb  on3.  [Asid 

Clo.  Sayest  thou  ? 

1  Lord.  It  is  not  fit,  your  lordship  should  undei 
take  every  companion4  that  you  give  offence  to. 

Clo.  No,  I  know  that:  but  it  is  fit;  I  shoul 
commit  offence  to  my  inferiors. 

2  Lord.  Ay,  it  is  fit  for  your  lordship  only. 
Clo.  Why,  so  I  say. 

1  Lord.  Did  you  hear  of  a  stranger,  that's  com 
to  court  to-night? 

Clo.  A  stranger!  and  I  know  not  on't! 

2  Lord.  He's  a  strange  fellow  himself,  and  know 
it  not.  [Asid 

1  Lord.  There's  an  Italian  come ;  and,  'tis  though 
one  of  Leonatus'  friends. 

Clo.  Leonatus !  a  banished  rascal ;  and  he' 
another,  whatsoever  he  be.  Who  told  you  of  thi 

9  The  same  quibble  has  occurred  in  As  You  Like  It,  Act 

'  Touch.  Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank. 
Bos.  Thon  losest  thy  old  smell.' 
8  That  is,  in  other  words,  yon  are  a  coxcomb. 
4  The  use  of  companion  was  the  same  as  of  fellow  now.  It  wf 
a  word  of  contempt. 

SC.  I.  CYMBELINE.  39 

1  Lord.  One  of  your  lordship's  pages. 
Clo.  Is  it  fit,  I  went  to  look  upon  him  ?  Is  there 
no  derogation  in't  ? 

1  Lord.  You  cannot  derogate,  my  lord. 
Clo.  Not  easily,  I  think. 

2  Lord.  You  are  a  fool  granted ;  therefore  your 
issues  being  foolish,  do  not  derogate.  [Aside. 

Clo.  Come,  I'll  go  see  this  Italian:  What  I 
have  lost  to-day  at  bowls,  I'll  win  to-night  of  him. 
Come,  go. 

2  Lord.  I'll  attend  your  lordship. 

[Exeunt  Cloten  and  first  Lord. 
That  such  a  -crafty  devil  as  is  his  mother 
Should  yield  the  world  this  ass !  a  woman,  that 
Bears  all  down  with  her  brain;  and  this  her  son 
Cannot  take  two  from  twenty  for  his  heart 
And  leave  eighteen.     Alas,  poor  princess, 
Thou  divine  Imogen,  what  thou  endur'st ! 
Betwixt  a  father  by  thy  step-dame  govern'd ; 
A  mother  hourly  coining  plots ;  a  wooer, 
More  hateful  than  the  foul  expulsion  is 
Of  thy  dear  husband,  than  that  horrid  act 
Of  the  divorce  he'd  make !  The  heavens  hold  firm 
The  walls  of  thy  dear  honour ;  keep  unshak'd 
That  temple,  thy  fair  mind ;  that  thou  may'st  stand, 
To  enjoy  thy  banish'd  lord,  and  this  great  land ! 



A  Bedchamber;  in  one  Part  of  it  a  Trunk. 

Imogen  reading  in  her  Bed;  a  Lady  attending. 

Imo.  Who's  there?  my  woman  Helen? 

Lady.  Please  you,  madam. 

Imo.  What  hour  is  it? 

Lady.  Almost  midnight,  madam. 

40  CYMBELlftE.  ACT  tl. 

Imo.  I  have  read  three  hours  then ;    mine  eyes 

are  weak : — 
Fold  down  the  leaf  where  I  have  left:  To  bed: 
Take  not  away  the  taper,  leave  it  burning ; 
And  if  thou  canst  awake  by  four  o'the  clock, 
I  pr'ythee,  call  me.     Sleep  hath  seiz'd  me  wholly. 

[Exit  Lady. 
To  your  protection  I  commend  me,  gods! 
From  fairies,  and  the  tempters  of  the  night, 
Guard  me,  beseech  ye! 

[Sleeps.    Iachimo,  from  the  Trunk, 
loch.  The  crickets  sing,  and  man's  o'erlabour'd 

Repairs  itself  by  rest:  Our  Tarquin  thus 
Did  softly  press  the  rushes1,  ere  he  waken'd 
The  chastity  he  wounded. — Cytherea, 
How  bravely  thou  becom'st  thy  bed !  fresh  lily ! 
And  whiter  than  the  sheets !  That  I  might  touch ! 
But  kiss ;  one  kiss ! — Rubies  unparagon'd, 
How  dearly  they  do't ! — Tis  her  breathing  that 
Perfumes  the  chamber  thus  2 :  The  flame  o'  the  taper 
Bows  toward  her ;  and  would  underpeep  her  lids, 
To  see  the  enclosed  lights,  now  canopied 
Under  these  windows3:  White  and  azure,  lac'd 

1  It  was  anciently  the  custom  to  strew  chambers  with  rashes: 
This  passage  may  serve  as  a  comment  on  the  '  ravishing  strides' 
of  Tarquin,  in  Macbeth,  as  it  shows  that  Shakspeare  meant 
'  softly  stealing  strides.'     See  vol.  iv.  p.  243. 

3       ' no  lips  did  seem  so  fair 

In  his  conceit ;  through  which  he  thinks  doth  fiie 
So  sweet  a  breath  that  doth  perfume  the  air ,' 

Pygmalion's  Image,  by  Marston,  1598. 

3  That  is,  her  eyelids.    So  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : — 
'  Thy  eyes'  windows  fall 
Like  death  when  he  shuts  up  the  day  of  life.' 
And  in  Venus  and  Adonis : — 

'  The  night  of  sorrow  now  is  turn'd  to  day ; 
Her  two  blue  windows  faintly  she  up-heaveth.' 


With  blue  of  heaven's  own  tinct4. — But  my  design  ? 
To  note  the  chamber :— I  will  write  all  down : — 
Such,  and  such,  pictures : — There  the  window : — 

The  adornment  of  her  bed ; — The  arras,  figures, 
Why,  such,  and  such: — And  the  contents  o' the 

Ay,  but  some  natural  notes  about  her  body, 
Above  ten  thousand  meaner  moveables 
Would  testify,  to  enrich  mine  inventory : 
0  sleep,  thou  ape  of  death,  lie  dull  upon  her ! 
And  be  her  sense  but  as  a  monument, 
Thus  in  a  chapel  lying ! — Come  off,  come  off; — 

[Taking  off  her  Bracelet. 
As  slippery,  as  the  Gordian  knot  was  hard ! — 
Tis  mine ;  and  this  will  witness  outwardly, 
As  strongly  as  the  conscience  does  within, 
To  the  madding  of  her  lord.     On  her  left  breast 
A  mole  cinque-spotted,  like  the  crimson  drops 
I' the  bottom  of  a  cowslip :  Here's  a  voucher, 
Stronger  than  ever  law  could  make :  this  secret 
Will  force  him  think  I  have  pick'd  the  lock,  and  ta'en 
The  treasure  of  her  honour.  No  more. — To  what  end  ? 
Why  should  I  write  this  down,  that's  riveted, 

4  Warburton  wished  to  read : — 

• White  with  azure  lac'd, 

The  bine  of  heaven's  own  tinct.' 
Bat  there  is  no  necessity  for  change.  It  is  an  exact  description 
of  the  eyelid  of  a  fair  beauty,  which  is  white  tinged  with  blue, 
and  laced  with  veins  of  darker  bine.  By  azure  our  ancestors 
understood  not  a  dark  bine,  bat  a  light  glaucous  colour,  a  tinct 
or  effusion  of  a  blue  colour.  Drayton  seems  to  have  had  this 
passage  in  his  mind : — 

'  And  these  sweet  veins  by  nature  rightly  plac'd, 
Wherewith  she  seems  the  white  shin  to  have  lac'd.' 
The  reader  will  remember  that  Shakspeare  has  dwelt  on  corres- 
ponding imagery  in  a  beautiful  passage  of  The  Winter's  Tale  :— 

' —  violets  dim, 

But  sweeter  than  the  lids  of  Judo's  eyes.' 


42  CYMBEUNfi.  ACT  II 

Screwed  to  my  memory  ?  She  hath  been  reading  la 
The  tale  of  Tereus5;  here  the  leafs  turn'd  down, 
Where  Philomel  gave  up; — I  have  enough: 
To  the  trunk  again,  and  shut  the  spring  of  it. 
S  wift,swift,  you  dragons  of  the  night6 ! — that  dawnii 
May  bare  the  raven's  eye :  I  lodge  in  fear ; 
Though  this  a  heavenly  angel,  hell  is  here. 

[Clock  strih 
One,  two,  three, — Time,  time ! 

[Goes  into  the  Trunk.     The  Scene  closi 

An  Ante-Chamber  adjoining  Imogen's  Apartmen 

Enter  Cloten  and  Lords. 

1  Lord.  Your  lordship  is  the  most  patient  man 
loss,  the  most  coldest  that  ever  turn'd  up  ace. 

Clo.  It  would  make  any  man  cold  to  lose. 

1  Lord.  But  not  every  man  patient,  after  t] 
noble  temper  of  your  lordship ;  You  are  most  he 
and  furious,  when  you  win. 

Clo.  Winning  would  put  any  man  into  courag< 

5  Tereus  and  Progne  is  the  second  tale  in  A  Petite  Palace 
Pettie  his  Pleasure,  4to.  1576.  The  story  is  related  in  Ov 
Me  tarn.  1.  vi. ;  and  bj  Gower  in  his  Confessio  Amantis,  b. 
fol.  113,  b. 

6  The  task  of  drawing  the  chariot  of  Night  was  assigned 
dragons,  on  account  of  their  supposed  watchfulness.  Milt 
mentions '  the  dragon  yoke  of  night'  in  II  Penseroso ;  and  in  1 
CSomus : — 

' the  dragon  womb 

Of  Stygian  darkness/ 
Again,  In  Obitum  Praesulis  Eliensis : — 

' sub  pedibus  deam 

Vidi  triformem,  dam  coercebat  suos 
Freenis  dracones  aureis.' 
It  may  be  remarked  that  the  whole  tribe  of  serpents  sleep  wi 
their  eyes  open,  and  therefore  appear  to  exert  a  constant  vig 


If  I  could  get  this  foolish  Imogen,  I  should  have 
gold  enough:  It's  almost  morning,  is'tnot? 

1  Lord.  Day,  my  lord. 

Clo.  I  would  this  musick  would  come:  I  am 
advised  to  give  her  musick  o' mornings;  they  say, 
it  will  penetrate. 

Enter  Musicians. 

Come  on ;.  tune :  If  you  can  penetrate  her  with  your 
fingering,  so;  we'll  try  with  tongue  too;  if  none 
will  do,  let  her  remain;  but  I'll  never  give  o'er. 
First,  a  very  excellent  good-conceited  thing;  after, 
a  wonderful  sweet  air,  with  admirable  rich  words 
to  it, — and  then  let  her  consider. 


Hark!  hark!  the  latk  at  heaven's  gate  sings1, 

And  Phcebus  'gins  arise, 
His  steeds  to  water  at  those  springs 

On  chalic'd* flowers  that  lies; 

1   The  same  hyperbole  occurs  in  Milton's  Paradise  Lost, 
ta>k  v. : — 

'  — —  ye  birds 

That  singing  up  to  heaven's  gate  ascend/ 
And  in  Shakspeare's  29th  Sonnet : — 

*  Like  to  the  lark  at  break  of  day  arising 
From  sullen  earth,  sings  hymns  at  heaven's  gate.' 
And  again  in  Venus  and  Adonis : — 

'  Lo,  here  the  gentle  lark,  weary  of  rest, 
From  his  moist  cabinet  mounts  up  on  high, 
And  wakes  the  morning,  from  whose  silver  breast 
The  sun  ariseth  in  his  majesty/ 
Perhaps  Lyl/s  Alexander  and  Campaspe  suggested  this  song : 

' who  is't  now  we  hear ; 

None  but  the  lark  so  shrill  and  clear ; 
Now  at  heaven's  gates  she  claps  her  wings, 
The  morn  not  waking  till  she  sings. 

Hark,  hark' 

Passages  in  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Skelton,  &c.  hare  been  pointed 
oat  by  Mr.  Douce,  which  have- parallel  thoughts. 
9  The  mornii?^  dries  up  the  dew  which  lies  in  the  cups  of 


And  winking  Mary-bud*  begin 

To  ope  their  golden  eyes; 
With  every  thing  that  pretty  bin: 

My  lady  sweet,  arise; 
Arise,  arise. 

So,  get  you  gone :  If  this  penetrate,  I  will  consider 
your  musick  the  better3:  if  it  do  not,  it  is  a  vice 
hi  her  ears,  which  horse-hairs,  and  cat-guts,  nor  the 
voice  of  unpaved  eunuch  to  boot,  can  never  amend. 

[Exeunt  Musicians. 

Enter  Cymbeline  and  Queen. 

2  Lord.  Here  comes  the  king. 

Clo.  I  am  glad,  I  was  up  so  late ;  for  that's  the 
reason  I  was  up  so  early:  He  cannot  choose  but 
take  this  service  I  have  done,  fatherly. — Good  mor- 
row to  your  majesty,  and  to  my  gracious  mother. 

Cym.  Attend  you  here  the  door  of  our  stern 
Will  she  not  forth? 

Clo.  I  have  assailed  her  with  musick,  but  she 
vouchsafes  no  notice. 

Cym.  The  exile  of  her  minion  is  too  new; 
She  hath  not  yet  forgot  him :  some  more  time 

flowers  called  calices  or  chalices.    The  marigold  is  one  of  those 

flowers  which  closes  itself  up  at  sunset. 

' the  day  is  waxen  olde, 

And  'gins  to  shut  up  with  the  marigold.' 

Browne ;  Brittania's  Pastorals. 

So  Shakspeare  in  King  Henry  VIII.  :— 

'  Great  princes'  favorites  their  fair  leaves  spread, 
Bat  as  the  marigold  at  the  sun's  eye* 

A  similar  idea  is  expressed  in '  A  Courtlie  Controversie  of  Cu- 
pid's Cantels,  1578,  p.  7: — '  Floures  which  unfolding  their 
tender  leaves,  at  the  breake  of  the  gray  morning,  seemed  to 
open  their  smiling  eves,  which  were  oppressed  with  the  drowsi- 
nesse  of  the  passed  night,'  &c. 

3  i.e,  I  will  pay  you  more  amply  for  it. 


Must  wear  the  print  of  his  remembrance  out, 
And  then  she's  yours. 

Queen.  You  are  most  bound  to  the  king; 

Who  let's  go  by  no  vantages,  that  may 
Prefer  you  to  his  daughter :  Frame  yourself 
To  orderly  solicits ;  and  be  friended 
With  aptness  of  the  season4:  make  denials 
Increase  your  services :  so  seem,  as  if 
You  were  inspir'd  to  do  those  duties  which 
You  tender  to  her;  that  you  in  all  obey  her, 
Save  when  command  to  your  dismission  tends, 
And  therein  you  are  senseless. 

Clo%  Senseless  ?  not  so. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  So  like  you,  sir,  embassadors  from  Rome ; 
The  one  is  Caius  Lucius. 

Cym.  A  worthy  fellow, 

Albeit  he  comes  on  angry  purpose  now; 
But  that's  no  fault  of  his :  We  must  receive  him 
According  to  the  honour  of  his  sender ; 
And  towards  himself  his  goodness  forespent  on  us 
We  must  extend  our  notice5. — Our  dear  son, 
"When  you  have  given  good  morning  to  your  mistress, 
Attend  the  queen,  and  us;  we  shall  have  need 
To  employ  you  towards  this  Roman. — Come,  our 

[Exeunt  Cym.  Queen,  Lords,  and  Mess. 

Clo.  If  she  be  up,  I'll  speak  with  her ;  if  not, 
Let  her  lie  still,  and  dream. — By  your  leave  ho! — 


4  '  With  solicitations  not  only  proper  bat  well  timed.*       % 

5  That  is,  we  must  extend  towards  himself  oar  notice  of  his 
goodness  heretofore  shown  to  as.  Shakspeare  has  many  similar 
elipses.     Thus  in  Julius  Caesar: — 

'  Thine  honourable  metal  may  be  wrought 
From  what  it  is  disposed  [to].' 
See  the  next  Scene,  note  6.  i . 


I  know  her  women  are  about  her ;  What 

If  I  do  line  one  of  their  hands  ?  Tis  gold 

Which  buys  admittance ;  oft  it  doth ;  yea,  and  makes 

Diana's  rangers  false6  themselves,  yield  up 

Their  deer  to  the  stand  of  the  stealer;  and  'tis  gold 

Which  makes  the  true  man  kill'd,  and  saves  the  thief; 

Nay,  sometime,  hangs  both  thief  and  true  man :  What 

Can  it  not  do,  and  undo?  I  will  make 

One  of  her  women  lawyer  to  me ;  for 

I  yet  not  understand  the  case  myself. 

By  your  leave.  [Knocks', 

Enter  a  Lady. 

Lady.  Who's  there,  that  knocks  ? 

Clo  A  gentleman. 

Lady.  No  more? 

Clo.  Yes,  and  a  gentlewoman's  son. 

Lady.  That's  more 

Than  some,  whose  tailors  are  as  dear  as  yours, 
Can  justly  boast  of:  What's  your  lordship's  pleasure? 

Clo.  Your  lady's  person:  Is  she  ready? 

Lady.  Ay, 

To  keep  her  chamber. 

Clo.  There's  gold  for  you;   sell  me  your  good 

Lady.  How!  my  good  name?  or  to  report  of  you 
What  I  shall  think  is  good  ? — The  princess 

Enter  Imogen. 

Clo.  Good  morrow,  fairest  sister:   Your  sweet 

Imo.  Good  morrow,  sir :   You  lay  out  too  much 


6  False  is  not  here  an  adjective,  bat  a  verb.    Thus  in  Tam- 
burlaine,  Part  I. : — 

*  And  make  him  false  his  faith  nnto  the  king.' 
Shakspeare  has  one  form  of  the  verb  to  false  in  The  Corned  j  of 
JErrota,  Act  ii,  Sc.  2 : — '  Nay  not  sure  in  a  thing  falsing.' 


For  purchasing  but  trouble :  the  thanks  I  give, 
Is  telling  you  that  I  am  poor  of  thanks, 
And  scarce  can  spare  them. 

Ch.  Still,  I  swear,  I  love  you. 

Imo.  If  you  but  said  so,  'twere  as  deep  with  me : 
If  you  swear  still,  your  recompense  is  still 
That  I  regard  it  not. 

Ch.  This  is  no  answer. 

Imo.  But  that  you  shall  not  say  I  yield,  being  silent, 
I  would  not  speak.     I  pray  you,  spare  me :  i'faith, 
I  shall  unfold  equal  discourtesy 
To  your  best  kindness ;  one  of  your  great  knowing 
Should  learn,  being  taught,  forbearance7. 

Ch.  To  leave  you  in  your  madness,  'twere  my  sin : 
I  will  not. 

Imo.  Fools  are  not  mad  folks8. 

Clo.  Do  you  call  me  fool  ? 

Imo.  As  I  am  mad,  I  do: 
If  youTl  be  patient,  I'll  no  more  be  mad ; 
That  cures  us  both.     I  am  much  sorry,  sir, 
You  put  me  to  forget  a  lady's  manners, 
By  being  so  verbal 9 :  and  learn  now,  for  all, 
That  I,  which  know  my  heart,  do  here  pronounce, 
By  the  very  truth  of  it,  I  care  not  for  you ; 
And  am  so  near,  the  lack  of  charity 
(To  accuse  myself),  I  hate  you :  which  I  had  rather 
You  felt,  than  make't  my  boast. 

Ch.  You  sin  against 

Obedience,  which  you  owe  your  father.     For 
The  contract  you.  pretend  with  that  base  wretch 

7  i.  e.  '  a  man  of  your  knowledge,  being  taught  forbearance, 
should  learn  it.' 

8  This,  as  Cloten  very  well  understands  it,  is  a  covert  mode 
ef  calling  him  a  fool.  The  meaning  implied  is  this :  k  If  I  am 
mad,  as  you  tell  me,  I  am  what  you  can  never  be/  '  Fools  are 
not  mad  folks.' 

9  i.  e.  so  verbose,  so  fall  of  talk. 


(One,  bred  of  alms,  and  foster'd  with  cold  dishes, 
With  scraps  o' the  court),  it  is  no  contract,  none: 
And  though  it  be  allow'd  in  meaner  parties, 
(Yet  who,  than  he,  more  mean  ?)  to  knit  their  souls 
(On  whom  there  is  no  more  dependency 
But  brats  and  beggary)  in  self-figur'd  knot10; 
Yet  you  are  curb'd  from  that  enlargement  by  „ 
The  consequence  o' the  crown;  and  must  not  soil 
The  precious  note  of  it  with  a  base  slave, 
A  hilding11  for  a  livery,  a  squire's  cloth, 
A  pantler,  not  so  eminent. 

Imo.  Profane  fellow! 

Wert  thou  the  son  of  Jupiter,  and  no  more, 
But  what  thou  art,  besides,  thou  wert  too  base 
To  be  his  groom*  thou  wert  dignified  enough,. 
Even  to  the  point  of  envy,  if  'twere  made 
Comparative  for  your  virtues 12,  to  be  styl'd 
The  under-hangman  of  his  kingdom ;  and  hated 
For  being  preferred  so  well. 

Clo.  The  south-fog  rot  him ! 

Imo.  He  never  can  meet  more  mischance  than 
To  be  but  nam'd  of  thee.     His  meanest  garment,. 
That  ever  hath  but  clipp'd  his  body,  is  dearer, 
In  my  respect,  than  all  the  hairs  above  thee, 
Were  they  all  made  such  men.— How  now,  Pisanio  ? 

Enter  Pisanio. 
Clo.  His  garment  ?  Now,  the  devil — ~ 

10  In  knots  of  their  own  tying. 

11  A  low  fellow  only  fit  to  wear  a  livery.  See  vol.  iii.  p.  375, 
note  3. 

Ia  '  If  you  were  to  be  dignified  only  ui  comparison  to  your 
virtues,  the  under  hangman's  place  is  too  good  for  you/ 

Johnson  says,  that ( the  rudeness  of  Cloten  is  not  much  under- 
matched'  in  that  of  Imogen ;  but  he  forgets  the  provocation  her 
gentle  spirit  undergoes  by  this  persecution  of  Cloten's  addresses, 
and  the  abuse  bestowed  upon  the  idol  of  her  soul. 


Imo.  To  Dorothy  my  woman  hie  thee  presently : — 

Clo.  His  garment? 

Imo.  I  am  sprighted13  with  a  fool ; 

Frighted,  and  anger'd  worse : — Go,  bid  my  woman 
Search  for  a  jewel,  that  too  casually 
Hath  left  mine  arm ;  it  was  thy  master's :  'shrew  me* 
If  I  would  lose  it  for  a  revenue 
Of  any  king's  in  Europe.     I  do  think, 
I  saw't  this  morning :  Confident  I  am, 
Last  night  'twas  on  mine  arm ;  I  kiss'd  it : 
I  hope,  it  be  not  gone,  to  tell  my  lord 
That  I  kiss  aught  but  he. 

Pis.  Twill  not  be  lost. 

Imo.  I  hope  so:  go,  and  search.         [Exit  Pis. 

Clo.  You  have  abus'd  me: — 

His  meanest  garment? 

Imo.  Ay ;  I  said  so,  sir. 

If  you  will  make't  an  action,  call  witness  to't. 

Clo.  I  will  inform  your  father. 

Imo.  Your  mother  too ;_ 

She's  my  good  lady 14 ;  and  will  conceive,  I  hope, 
But  the  worst  of  me.     So  I  leave  you,  sir,, 
To  the  worst  of  discontent.  [Exit. 

Clo.  I'll  be  reveng'd : — 

His  meanest  garment? — Well.  [Exit.. 


Rome.     An  Apartment  in  Philario's  House. 

Enter  Posthumus  and  Philario.. 

Post.  Fear  it  not,  sir :  I  would,  I  were  so  sure 
To  win  the  king,  as  I  am  bold,  her  honour 
Will  remain  hers. 

13  i.  e.  haunted  by  a  fool  as  by  a  spright. 

14  This  is  said  ironically.     «  My  good  lady*  is  equivalent  to 
'my  good  friend.'     See  vol.  v.  p.  346,  note  5. 

VOL.  IX.  F 


Phi.  What  means  do  you  make  to  hi 

Post.  Not  any ;  but  abide  the  change  of  time 
Quake  in  the  present  winter's  state,  and  wish 
That  warmer  days  would  come :  in  these  fear'd  hop 
I  barely  gratify  your  love ;  they  failing, 
I  must  die  much  your  debtor. 

Phi.  Your  very  goodness,  and  your  company 
O'erpays  all  I  can  do.    By  this,  your  king 
Hath  heard  of  great  Augustus :  Caius  Lucius 
Will  do  his  commission  throughly :  And,  I  thin! 
He'll  grant  the  tribute,  send  the  arrearages, 
Or1  look  upon  our  Romans,  whose  remembranc 
Is  yet  fresh  in  their  grief. 

Post  I  do  believe 

(Statist8  though  I  am  none,  nor  like  to  be), 
That  this  will  prove  a  war;  and  you  shall  hear 
The  legions  now  in  Gallia,  sooner  landed 
In  our  not-fearing  Britain,  than  have  tidings 
Of  any  penny  tribute  paid.    Our  countrymen 
Are  men  more  order'd,  than  when  Julius  Caesar 
Smil'd  at  their  lack  of  skill,  but  found  their  oour; 
Worthy  his  frowning  at :  Their  discipline 
(Now  mingled  with  their  courages)  will  make  kno 
To  their  approvers3,  they  are  people,  such 
That  mend  upon  the  world. 

Enter  Iachimo. 

Phi.  See!  Iachimo? 

Post.  The  swiftest  harts  have  posted  you  by  la 

1  Or  stands  here  for  ere.    See  vol.  iv.  p.  409,  note  3. 
specting  the  tribute  here  alluded  to,  see  the  Preliminary 

2  i.  e.  statesmen.    See  Hamlet,  Act  v.  Sc.  2,  note  8. 

3  That  is, '  to  those  who  try  them.'  The  old  copy,  by  a  < 
mon  typographical  error  in  the  preceding  line,  has  van 
instead  of  mingled,  which  odd  reading  Steevens  seemed  incl 
to  adopt,  and  explains  it, '  their  discipline  borrowing  wings  1 
their  courage.' 


And  winds  of  all  the  comers  kiss'd  your  sails, 
To  make  your  vessel  nimble. 

Phi.  Welcome,  sir. 

Pott.  I  hope,  the  briefness  of  your  answer  made 
The  speediness  of  your  return. 

lack.  Your  lady 

Is  one  of  the  fairest  that  I  have  looh'd  upon. 

Pott.  And,  therewithal,  the  best;  or  let  her  beauty 
Look  through  a  casement  to  allure  false  hearts, 
And  be  false  with  them. 

lack.  Here  are  letters  for  you. 

Pott.  Their  tenour  good,  I  trust. 

lack.  Tis  very  like. 

Phi.  Was  Caius  Lucius  in  the  Britain  court, 
When  you  were  there  4  7 

lack.  He  was  expected  then, 

But  not  approach'd. 

Post.  All  is  well  yet. — 

Sparkles  this  stone  as  it  was  wont?  or  is't  hot 
Too  dull  for  your  good  wearing? 

lack.  If  I  have  lost  it, 

I  should  have  lost  the  worth  of  it  in  gold. 
Ill  make  a  journey  twice  as  far,  to  enjoy 
A  second  night  of  such  sweet  shortness,  which 
Was  mine  in  Britain ;  for  the  ring  is  won. 

Post.  The  stone's  too  hard  to  come  by. 

lack.  Not  a  whit, 

Your  lady  being  so  easy. 

Post.  Make  not,  sir, 

Your  loss  your  sport :  I  hope,  you  know  that  we 
Must  not  continue  friends. 

lack.  Good  sir,  we  must, 

*  This  speech  is  giren  to  Posthamns  in  the  old  copy;  lint 
Poslbamna  tu  employed  in  reading  his  letter*,  and  was  too 
much  interested  in  the  end  of  Iaohimo's  journey  to  pat  an  indif- 
ferent question  of  this  nature.  It  m  transferred  to  Philuu 
it  the  anggestiou  of  Sleerem. 


If  you  keep  covenant :  Had  I  not  brought 
The  knowledge  of  your  mistress  home,  I  grant 
We  were  to  question  further :  but  I  now 
Profess  myself  the  winner  of  her  honour, 
Together  with  your  ring ;  and  not  the  wronger 
Of  her,  or  you,  having  proceeded  but 
By  both  your  wills. 

Post.  If  you  can  make't  apparent 

That  you  have  tasted  her  in  bed,  my  hand, 
And  ring  is  yours :  if  not,  the  foul  opinion 
You  had  of  her  pure  honour,  gains,  or  loses, 
Your  sword,  or  mine ;  or  masterless  leaves  both 
To  who  shall  find  them. 

.  lack.  Sir,  my  circumstances, 

Being  so  near  the  truth,  as  I  will  make  them, 
Must  first  induce  you  to  believe :  whose  strength 
I  will  confirm  with  oath ;  which,  I  doubt  not, 
You'll  give  me  leave  to  spare,  when  you  shall  find 
You  need  it  not. 

Post.  Proceed. 

lack.                                 First,  her  bed-chamber 
(Where,  I  confess,  I  slept  not;  but,  profess, 
Had  that  was  well  worth  watching5),  It  was  hang'd 
With  tapestry  of  silk  and  silver  ?  the  story 
Proud  Cleopatra,  when  she  met  her  Roman, 
And  Cydnus  swell'd  above  the  banks,  or  for 
The  press  of  boats,  or  pride :  a  piece  of  work 
So  bravely  done,  so  rich,  that  it  did  strive 
In  workmanship,  and  value :  which,  I  wonder'd, 
Could  be  so  rarely  and  exactly  wrought, 
Since  the  true  life  on't  was6 

5  i.e.*  that  which  was  well  worth  watching  or  lying  awake 
[for].'     See  the  preceding  scene,  note  5. 

6  Mason  proposes  to  read  :5 — 

'  Such  the  true  life  on't  was.' 
It  is  a  typographical  error  easily  made:   and  the  emendation 
.deserves  a  place  in  the  text. 

Johnson  observes,  that '  Iachimo's  language  is  such  as  a  skil- 

SC.  I.V.  CYMBELINE.  33 

Post.  This  is  true; 

And  this  you  might  have  heard  of  here,  by  me, 
Or  by  some  other. 

lack.  More  particulars 

Must  justify  my  knowledge. 

Post.  So  they  must, 

Or  do  your  honour  injury. 

lack.  The  chimney 

Is  south  the  chamber;  and  the  chimney-piece, 
Chaste  Dian,  bathing :  never  saw  I  figures 
So  likely  to  report  themselves :  the  cutter 
Was  as  another  nature,  dumb7;  outwent  her, 
Motion  and  breath  left  out. 

Post.  This  is  a  thing, 

Which  you  might  from  relation  likewise  reap ; 
Being,  as  it  is,  much  spoke  of. 

lack.  The  roof  o'  the  chamber 

With  golden  cherubins  is  fretted8.     Her  andirons 
(I  had  forgot  them),  were  two  winking  Cupids 

ful  villain  would  naturally  use ;  a  mixture  of  air j  triumph  and 
serious  deposition.  His  gaiety  shows  his  seriousness  to  be 
without  anxiety,  and  his  seriousness  proves  his  gaiety  to  be 
without  art.' 

7  i.  e.  so  near  speech.  A  speaking  picture  is  a  common  figu- 
rative mode  of  expression.  The  meaning  of  the  latter  part  of  the 
sentence  is :  '  The  sculptor  was  as  nature  dumb ;  he  gave  every 
thing  that  nature  gives  but  breath  and  motion.  In  breath  is 
included  speech:' 

8  Steevens  says,  '  this  tawdry  image  occurs  in  King  Henry 

' their  dwarfish  pages  were 

As  cherubins  all  gilt.' 
By  the  very  mention  of  cherubins  his  indignation  is  moved. 
'  The  sole  recommendation  of  this  Gothick  idea  (says  he),  which 
is  critically  repeated  by  modern  artists,  seems  to  be,  that  it  oc- 
cupies but  little  room  on  canvass  or  marble ;  for  chubby  unmean- 
ing faces,  with  ducks1  wings  tucked  under  them,  are  all  the 
circumstances  that  enter  into  such  infantine  and  absurd  repre- 
sentations of  the  choirs  of  heaven/ 


54  CYMfeELINE.  ACT  II. 

Of  silver),  each  on  one  foot  standing,  nicely 
Depending  on  their  brands  9. 

Post.  .  This  is  her  honour ! — 

Let  it  be  granted,  you  have  seen  all  this  (and  praise 
Be  given  to  your  remembrance),  the  description 
Of  what  is  in  her  chamber,  nothing  saves 
The  wager  you  have  laid. 

lack.  Then,  if  you  can, 

[Putting  out  the  Bracelet. 
Be  pale 10;  I  beg  but  leave  to  air  this  jewel :  See ! — ' 
And  now  'tis  up  again :  it  must  be  married 
To  that  your  diamond;  I'll  keep  them. 

Post.  Jove !  — 

Once  more  let  me  behold  it :  Is  it  that 
Which  I  left  with  her  ? 

lack.  Sir  (I  thank  her),  that : 

She  stripped  it  from  her  arm;  I  see  her  yet; 
Her  pretty  action  did  outsell  her  gift, 
And  yet  enrich'd  it  too :  She  gave  it  me,  and  said, 
She  priz'd  it  once. 

Post.  May  be,  she  pluck'd  it  off, 

To  send  it  me. 

lack.  She  writes  so  to  you?  doth  she  ? 

9  It  is  well  known  that  the  andirons  of  oar  ancestors  were 
sometimes  costly  pieces  of  furniture ;  the  standards  were  often, 
as  in  this  instance,  of  silver,  and  representing  some  terminal 
figure  or  device ;  the  transverse  or  horizontal  pieces,  upon  which 
the  wood  was  supported,  were  what  Shakspeare  here  calls  the 
brands,  properly  brandirons.  Upon  these  the  Cupids  which  form- 
ed the  standards  nicely  depended,  seeming  to  stand  on  one  foot. 

10  The  meaning  seems  to  be,  *  If  you  ever  can  be  pale — be 
pale  now  with  jealousy.' 

'  Pale  jealousy,  child  of  insatiate  love/ 

Not,  as  Johnson  says,  '  forbear  to  flush  your  cheek  with  rage.1 
Mr.  Boswell's  conjeoture  that  it  meant,  '  If  you  can  control 
your  temper,  if  you  can  restrain  yourself  within  bounds,'  is 
surely  inadmissible. 


Post.  O,  no,  no,  no;  'tis  true.     Here,  take  this 
too ;  [Gives  the  Ring. 

It  is  a  basilisk  unto  mine  eye, 
Kills  me  to  look  on't : — Let  there  be  no  honour, 
Where  there  is  beauty ;  truth,  where  semblance;  love, 
Where  there's  another  man :  The  vows  of  women 
Of  no  more  bondage  be,  to  where  they  are  made, 
Than  they  are  to  their  virtues :  which  is  nothing: — 
0,  above  measure  false ! 

Phi.  Have  patience,  sir, 

And  take  your  ring  again ;  'tis  not  yet  won : 
It  may  be  probable,  she  lost  it;  or, 
Who  knows  if  one  of  her  women,  being  corrupted, 
Hath  stolen  it  from  her. 

Past.  Very  true ; 

And  so,  I  hope,  he  came  by't; — Back  my  ring; — 
Render  to  me  some  corporal  sign  about  her, 
More  evident  than  this;  for  this  was  stolen. 

lack.  By  Jupiter,  I  had  it  from  her  aim. 

Post.  Hark  you,  he  swears ;  by  Jupiter  he  swears. 
Tis  true ; — nay,  keep  the  ring — 'tis  true :  I  am  sure, 
She  would  not  lose  it:  her  attendants  are 
All  sworn11  and  honourable: — They  induc'd  to 

steal  it ! 
And  by  a  stranger? — No,  he  hath  enjoy'd  her. 
The  cognizance  n  of  her  incontinency 
Is  this,— she  hath  bought  the  name  of  whore  thus 

dearly. —  * 
There,  take  thy  hire :  and  all  the  fiends  of  hell 
Divide  themselves  between  you ! 

11  It  was  anciently  the  custom  for  the  servants  of  great  fami- 
lies (as  it  is  now  for  the  servants  of  the  king)  to  take  an  oath  of 
fidelity  on  their  entrance  into  office.  See  Percy's  Northumber- 
land Household  Book,  p.  49. 

13  The  badge,  the  token,  the  visible  proof.  So  in  King  Hen- 
ry VI.  Part  I.  :— 

'  As  cognizance  of  my  blood-drinking  hate. 


Phi.  Sir,  be  patient : 

This  is  not  strong  enough  to  be  believ'd 
Of  one  persuaded  well  of 

Post.  Never  talk  on't; 

She  hath  been  colted  by  him. 

lack.  If  you  seek 

For  further  satisfying,  under  her  breast 
Worthy  the  pressing),  lies  a  mole,  right  proud 
Of  that  most  delicate  lodging:  By  my  life, 
I  kiss'd  it :  and  it  gave  me  present  hunger 
To  feed  again,  though  full.     You  do  remember 
This  stain  upon  her  ? 

Post.  Ay,  and  it  doth  confirm 

Another  stain,  as  big  as  hell  can  hold, 
Were  there  no  more  but  it. 

lack.  Will  you  hear  more? 

Post,  Spare  your  arithmetick;  never  count  the 
Once,  and  a  million! 

lack.  I'll  be  sworn, — « — 

Post.  No  swearing. 

If  you  will  swear  you  have  not  done't,  you  lie ; 
And  I  will  kill  thee,  if  thou  dost  deny 
Thou  hast  made  me  cuckold. 

lack.  I  will  deny  nothing. 

Post.  O ,  that  I  had  her  here,  to  tear  her  limb-meal ! 
I  will  go  there,  and  do't;  i'the  court;  before 
Her  father : — I'll  do  something [Exit. 

Phi.  Quite  besides 

The  government  of  patience ! — You  have  won : 
Let's  follow  him,  and  pervert13  the  present  wrath 
He  hath  against  himself. 

Iachr  With  all  my  heart. 


13  i.  e.  avert  his  wrath  from  himself,  prevent  him  from  injuring 
himself  in  his  rage. 

Me  of  -j-  tnrfal  |lima»i  At  NSCnad. 

And  pray'd  w,  cat,  btanw:  did  ■  **» 

A  podeaaej  so  racr,  lb*  sweet  r»e»  o«Tt 

Might  well  tare  wara'd  oki  Satan;  dm  I  ib^t* 

As  chaste  u  aaxwaaa'd  now; — O,  ail  the  devil*!—- 
This  yellow  I  achiroo,  in  aa  hour, — wis1*  not  *— 
Or  less, — at  first:  Perchance  he  spoke  not;  but. 
Like  a  fuU-aeorn'd  boar,  a  German  one, 

1  Milton  «u  probably  indebted  to  (his  speech  Tor  out  «f  lli- 
■  which  be  bu  inipited  10  Adun,  Ptr.Lut,  b.  *.:— 

' O,  whj  did  God, 

Creator  wise,  that  peopled  highest  heaven 
With  spirits  maaenline,  create  at  last 
This  noreltj  on  earth,  this  fair  defeot 
Of  nature,  and  not  fill  the  world  at  once 
With  men,  as  angels,  without  feminine, 
Or  find  Mats  at  he  r  way  io  gauralt 

Sn  Hbodomonte's  invective  against  women  in  the  Orl In  I'm 

rioto ;  and  above  all  a  speech  whieb  Euripides  has  pul  Ilia  that 
■wlb  of  Hippoljtoa,  in  the  tregedj  of  lliat  name. 
'  We  haie  the  sane  image  in  Heasare  for  Mrasan 
'  Their  saucj  sweetness,  that  do  cm  •soWf  M 
lis  atsanps  that  are  forbid.' 
See  Bartoa's  Analomj  of  Melaocbul/,  Fart  111.  ft**) 


CryM,  ok!  and  mounted:  found  no  opposition 

But  what  he  look'd  for  should  oppose,  and  she 

Should  from  encounter  guard.     Could  I  find  out 

The  woman's  part  in  me !  For  there's  no  motion 

That  tends  to  vice  in  man,  but  I  affirm 

It  is  the  woman's  part :  Be  it  lying,  note  it, 

The  woman's ;  flattering,  hers ;  deceiving,  hers ; 

Ambitions,  coverings,  change  of  prides,  disdain, 

Nice  longings,  slanders,  mutability, 

All  faults  that  may  be  nam'd,  nay,  that  hell  knows, 

Why,  hers,  in  part,  or  all ;  but,  rather,  all : 

For  ev'n  to  vice 

They  are  not  constant,  but  are  changing  still 

One  vice,  but  of  a  minute  old,  for  one 

Not  half  so  old  as  that.     I'll  write  against  them, 

Detest  them,  curse  them :  Yet  'tis  greater  skill 

In  a  true  hate,  to  pray  they  have  their  will : 

The  very  devils  cannot  plague  them  better3.  [Exit, 


SCENE  I.     Britain.     A  Room  of  State  in 
Cymbeline's  Palace. 

Enter  Cymbeline,  Queen,  Cloten,  and  Lords 
at  one  Door;  and  at  another,  Caius  Lucius 
and  Attendants. 

Cym.  Now  say,  what  would  Augustus  Caesai 
with  us  ? 

Luc.  When  Julius  Caesar  (whose  remembrance  yei 
Lives  in  men's  eyes ;  and  will  to  ears,  and  tongues. 
Be  theme,  and  hearing  ever),  was  in  this  Britain, 

3  *  God  could  not  lightly  do  a  man  more  yengeance,  than  ii 
this  world  to  grant  him  his  own  foolish  wishes.'— Sir  T.  More*. 
Comfort  against  Tribulation. 

SC.  I.  CYMBELINK.  69 

And  conquer'd  it,  Cassibelan,  thine  uncle 
(Famous  in  Caesar's  praises,  no  whit  less 
Than  in  his  feats  deserving  it),  for  him, 
And  his  succession,  granted  Rome  a  tribute, 
Yearly  three  thousand  pounds;  which  by  thee  lately 
Is  left  untender'd. 

Queen.  And,  to  kill  the  marvel, 

Shall  be  so  ever. 

Clo.  There  be  many  Caesars, 

Ere  such  another  Julius.     Britain  is 
A  world  by  itself;  and  we  will  nothing  pay, 
For  wearing  our  own  noses. 

Queen.  That  opportunity, 

Which  then  they  had  to  take  from  us,  to  resume 
We  have  again. — Remember,  sir,  my  liege, 
The  kings  your  ancestors;  together  with 
The  natural  bravery  of  your  isle;  which  stands 
As  Neptune's  park,  ribbed  and  paled  in 
With  rocks  unscaleable,  and  roaring  waters ; 
With  sands,  that  will  not  bear  your  enemies'  boats, 
But  suck  them  up  to  the  top-mast.  A  kind  of  conquest 
Caesar  made  here ;  but  made  not  here  his  brag 
Of,  came,  and  saw,  and  overcame ;  with  shame 
(The  first  that  ever  touch'd  him),  he  was  carried 
From  off  our  coast,  twice  beaten ;  and  his  shipping, 
(Poor  ignorant  baubles !)  on  our  terrible  seas, 
Like  egg-shells  mov'd  upon  their  surges,  crack'd 
As  easily  'gainst  our  rocks  :  for  joy  whereof, 
The  fam'd  Cassibelan,  who  was  once  at  point 
(0>  giglot 1  fortune !)  to  master  Caesar's  sword, 

1  '  O  false  and  inconstant  fortune!'  A  giglot  was  a  strumpet. 
So  in  Measure  for  Measure,  vol.ii.  p.  106 : — '  Away  with  those 
gigloU  too.'    And  in  Hamlet : — 

*  Out,  out,  thou  strumpet  fortune !'        • 
The  poet  has  transferred  to  Cassibelan  an  adventure  which  hap- 
pened to  his  brother  Nennius.     See  Holinshed,  book  iii.  ch.  xiii. 
'  The  same  historic  also  maketh  mention  of  Nennius,  brother  to 


Made  Lud's  town  with  rejoicing  fires  bright,   ■ 
And  Britons  strut  with  courage. 

Cb.  Come,  there's  no  more  tribute  to  be  paid : 
Our  kingdom  is  stronger  than  it  was  at  that  time ; 
and,  as  I  said,  there  is  no  more  such  Caesars: 
other  of  them  may  have  crooked  noses :  but,  tc 
owe  such  straight  arms,  none. 

Cym.  Son,  let  your  mother  end. 

Clo.  We  have  yet  many  among  us  can  gripe  as 
hard  as  Cassibelan :  I  do  not  say,  I  am  one ;  but 

1  have  a  hand. — Why  tribute  ?  why  should  we  pay 
tribute  ?  If  Caesar  can  hide  the  sun  from  us  with  a 
blanket,  or  put  the  moon  in  his  pocket,  we  will  pay 
him  tribute  for  light ;  else,  sir,  no  more  tribute,  pray 
you  now. 

*     Cym.  You  must  know, 
Till  the  injurious  Romans  did  extort 
This  tribute  from  us,  we  were  free :  Caesar's  ambitioi 
(Which  sweird  so  much,  that  it  did  almost  stretch 
The  sides  o'  the  world),  against  all  colour2,  here 
Did  put  the  yoke  upon  us;  which  to  shake  off, 
Becomes  a  warlike  people,  whom  we  reckon 
Ourselves  to  be.     We  do  say  then  to  Caesar, 
Our  ancestor  was  that  Mulmutius,  which 
Ordain'd  our  laws ;  whose  use  the  sword  of  Caesar 
Hath  too  much  mangled ;  whose  repair,  and  fran- 
Shall,  by  the  power  we  hold,  be  our  good  deed, 
(Though  Rome  be  therefore  angry) ;  Mulmutius  mad< 

our  laws, 
Who  was  the  first  of  Britain,  which  did  put 

Cassibelane,  who  in  fight  happened  to  get  Caesar's  sword  fastenei 
in  his  shield,  by  a  blow  which  Caesar  stroke  at  him.  Bat  Nen 
nias  died,  within  15  daies  after  the  battel,  of  the  hart  received  a 
Caesar's  hand ;  although  after  he  was  hurt  he  slew  Labienns 
one  of  the  Roman  tribunes.' 
3  i.e.  without  any  pretence  of  right. 

SC.  I*  CYMBELINE.  61 

His  brows  within  a  golden  crown,  and  call'd 
Himself  a  king. 

Luc.  I  am  sorry,  Cymbeline, 

That  I  am  to  pronounce  Augustus  Caesar 
(Caesar,  that  hath  more  kings  his  servants,  than 
Thyself  domestick  officers),  thine  enemy : 
Receive  it  from  me,  then: — War,  and  confusion, 
In  Caesar's  name  pronounce  I  'gainst  thee :  look 
For  fury  not  to  be  resisted :-~ Thus  defied, 
I  thank  thee  for  myself. 

Cym.  Thou  art  welcome,  Caius* 

Thy  Caesar  knighted  me ;  my  youth  I  spent 
Much  under  him3 ;  of  him  I  gathered  honour; 
Which  he,  to  seek  of  me  again,  perforce, 
Behoves  me  keep  at  utterance4;  I  am  perfect5, 
That  the  Pannonians  and  Dalmatians,  for 
Their  liberties,  are  now  in  arms :  a  precedent 
Which,  not  to  read,  would  show  the  Britons  cold: 
So  Caesar  shall  not  find  them. 
Luc.  Let  proof  speak. 

Clo.  His  majesty  bids  you  welcome.  Make 
pastime  with  us  a  day,  or  two,  longer:  If  you 
seek  us  afterwards  in  other  terms,  you  shall  find 
us  in  our  salt-water  girdle :  if  you  beat  us  out  of 
it,  it  is  yours;  if  you  fall  in  the  adventure,  our 
crows  shall  fare  the  better  for  you ;  and  there's  an 

Luc.  So,  sir. 

Cym.   I  know  your  master's  pleasure,  and  he 
mine : 
All  the  remain  is,  welcome.  [Exeunt. 

3  Some  few  hints  for  this  part  of  the  play  are  taken  from 

4  i.  e.  at  the  extremity  of  defiance.  So  in  Helyas  Knight  of 
the  Swanne,  blk  1.  no  date:—'  Here  is  my  gage  to  sustain  it  to 
the  utterance,  and  befight  it  to  the  death.' 

5  Well  informed. 

VOL.  IX.  G 


SCENE  II.     Another  Room  in  the  same. 

Enter  Pisanio. 

Pis.  How!  of  adultery?  Wherefore  write  you  not 
What  monster's  her  accuser  ? — Leonatus ! 
O,  master!  what  a  strange  infection 
Is  fallen  into  thy  ear?  What  false  Italian 
(As  poisonous  tongu'd,  as  handed)  hath  prevail'd 
On  thy  too  ready  hearing? — Disloyal?  No: 
She's  punish'd  for  her  truth ;  and  undergoes, 
More  goddess-like  than  wife-like,  such  assaults 
As  would  take  in *  some  virtue. — O,  my  master ! 
Thy  mind  to  her  is  now  as  low,  as  were 
Thy  fortunes2. — How!  that  I  should  murder  her? 
Upon  the  love,  and  truth,  and  vows,  which  I 
Have  made  to  thy  command? — I,  her? — her  blood  ? 
If  it  be  so  to  do  good  service,  never 
Let  me  be  counted  serviceable.     How  look  I, 
That  I  should  seem  to  lack  humanity, 
So  much  as  this  fact  comes  to?  Dtft:  The  letter 

That  I  have  sent  her,  by  her  own  command 
Shall  give  thee  opportunity  3 : — O  damn'd  paper ! 
Black  as  the  ink  that's  on  thee !  Senseless  bauble, 

1  To  take  in  is  to  conquer.    So  in  Anton y  and  Cleopatra: — 

' *•  cut  the  Ionian  seas 

And  take  in  Toryne. 

3  Thy  mind  compared  to  hers  is  now  as  low  as  thy  condition 
was  compared  to  hers.  According  to  modern  notions  of  gram- 
matical construction  it  should  be  '  thy  mind  to  hers.' 

3  The  words  here  read  by  Pisanio  from  his  master's  letter  (as 
it  is  afterwards  given  in  prose )  are  not  found  there,  though  the 
substance  of  them  is  contained  in  it.  Malone  thinks  this  a  proof 
that  Shakspeare  had  no  view  to  the  publication  of  his  pieces,  the 
inaccuracy  would  hardly  be  detected  by  the  ear  of  the  spectator, 
though  it  could  hardly  escape  an  attentive  reader. 

SC.  If.  CYMBELINE.  68 

Art  thou  a  feodary  *  for  this  act,  and  look'st 
So  virgin-like  without  ?  Lo,  here  she  comes. 

Enter  Imogen. 

J  am  ignorant  in  what  I  am  commanded5. 

Imo.  How  now,  Pisanio? 

Pis.  Madam,  here  is  a  letter  from  my  lord. 

Imo.  Who?  thy  lord?  that  is  my  lord?  Leonatus? 
O,  learn'd  indeed  were  that  astronomer, 
That  knew  the  stars,  as  I  his  characters; 
He'd  lay  the  future  open. — You  good  gods, 
Let  what  is  here  contain'd  relish  of  love, 
Of  my  lord's  health,  of  his  content, — yet  not, 
That  we  two  are  asunder,  let  that  grieve  him,--— 
(Some  griefs  are  med'cinable;)  that  is  one  of  them, 
For  it  doth  physick  love ; — of  his  content, 
All  but  in  that ! — Good  wax,  thy  leave : — Bless'd  be. 
You  bees,  that  make  these  locks  of  counsel !  Lovers, 
And  men  in  dangerous  bonds,  pray  not  alike; 
Though  forfeiters  you  cast  in  prison,  yet 
You  clasp  young  Cupid's  tables. — -Good  news,  gods ! 


Justice,  and  your  father's  wrath,  should  he  take 
me  in  his  dominion,  could  not  be  so  cruel  to  me  as6 

4  i.  e.  a  subordinate  agent,  as  a  vassal  to  his  chief.  See  vol.  ii. 
p.  45,  note  18.  A  feodary,  however,  meant  also  '  a  prime  agent, 
or  steward,  who  received  aids,  reliefs,  suits  of  service,  &c.  due 
to  any  lord.'— Glossographia  AngUcana  Nova,  1719.  Yet  after 
all  it  may  he  doubted  whether  Shakspeare  does  not  use  it  to 
signify  a  confederate  or  accomplice,  as  he  does  federarv  in  The 
Winter's  Tale,  Act  ii.  Sc.  1  :— 

'  More,  she's  a  traitor,  and  Camillo  is 
Afederary  with  her.' 

5  i.  e.  1  am  unpractised  in  the  arts  of  murder.  So  in  King 
Henry  IV.  Part  I.  :— 

'  O,  I  am  ignorance  itself  in  this.' 

6  As  is  here  used  for  that.  See  Julius  Caesar,  Aot  i.  Sc.  2, 
note  15,  p.  283.  The  word  not  in  the  next  line,  being  accidentally 
omitted  in  the  old  copy,  was  supplied  by  Malooe. 


you,  0  the  dearest  of  creatures,  would  not  even  renew 
me  with  your  eyes.  Take  notice,  that  I  am  in  Cam- 
bria, at  Milford- Haven.  What  your  own  love  will, 
out  of  this,  advise  you,  follow.  So*  he  wishes  you 
all  happiness,  that  remains  loyal  to  his  vow,  and 
your,  increasing  in  love7, 

Leonatus  Posthumus, 

O,  for  a  horse  with  wings  I — Hearst  th&u,  Pisanio?. 
He  is  at  Milford  Haven :  Read,  and  tell  me 
How  far  'tis  thither.     If  one  of  mean  affairs 
May  plod  it  in  a  week,  why  may  not  I 
Glide  thither  in  a  day  ? — Then,  true  Pisanio, 
(Who  long'st,  like  me,  to  see  thy  lord ;  who  long'st, — 
O,  let  me  'bate, — but  not  like  me; — yet  long'st, — 
But  in  a  fainter  kind: — O,  not  like  me ; 
For  mine's  beyond  beyond8)  say,  and  speak  thick9; 
(Love's  counsellor  should  fill  the  bores  of  hearings 
To  the  smothering  of  the  sense),  how  far  it  is 
To  this  same  blessed  Milford :  And,  by  the  way, 
Tell  me  how  Wales  was  made  so  happy,  as 
To  inherit  such  a  haven:  But,  first  of  all, 
How  we  may  steal  from  hence ;  and,  for  the  gap 
That  we  shall  make  in  time,  from  our  hence-going, 
And  our  return,  to  excuse 10 : — but  first,  how  get 
hence : 

7  We  should  now  write  '  yours,  increasing  in  love/  &c.  Your 
is  to  be  joined  in  construction  with  Leonatus  Post  humus,  and  not 
with  increasing ;  the  latter  is  a  participle  present,  and  not  a 

8  i.  e.  her  longing  is  further  than  beyond;  beyond  any  thing 
that  desire  can  be  said  to  be  beyond. 

9  i.  e. '  speak  quick'  See  vol.  iv.  p.  221,  note  17,  and  vol.  v. 
p.  291,  note  2. 

10  That  is  '  in  consequence  of  our  going  hence  and  returning 
back.'     So  in  Coriolanus,  Act  ii.  Sc.  1 : — 

'  He  cannot  temperately  support  his  honours 
From  where  he  should  begin  and  end/ 
§ee  note  on  that  passage,  p.  165,  vol.  viii. 


Why  should  excuse  be  born  or  e'er  begot11? 
Well  talk  of  that  hereafter.     Pr'ythee,  speak, 
How  many  score  of  miles  may  we  well  ride 
Twixt  hour  and  hour? 

Pis.  One  score,  'twixt  sun  and  sun, 

Madam,  's  enough  for  you ;  and  too  much  too. 

Imo.  Why,  one  that  rode  to  his  execution,  man, 
Could  never  go  so  slow :  I  have  heard  of  riding 

wagers 1S, 
Where  horses  haye  been  nimbler  than  the  sands 

That  run  i'the  clock's  behalf13: But  this  is 

foolery :— - 
Go,  bid  my  woman  feign  a  sickness ;  say 
Shell  home  to  her  father :  and  provide  me,  presently, 
A  riding  suit;  no  costlier  than  would  fit 
A  franklin's  M  housewife. 

Pis.  Madam,  you're  best15  consider. 

Imo.  I  see  before  me,  man,  nor  here,  nor  here, 
Nor  what  ensues ;  but  have  a  fog  in  them, 
That  I  cannot  look  through l6.     Away,  I  pr'ythee ; 
Do  as  I  bid  thee :  There's  no  more  to  say ; 
Accessible  is  none  but  Milford  way.  [Exeunt. 

11  i.  e.  before  the  aot  is  done  for  which  excuse  will  be  neces- 

13  This  practice  was,  perhaps,  not  much  less  prevalent  in 
Shakspeajre's  time  than  it  is  at  present  Fynes  Moryson,  speak- 
ing of  his  brother's  putting  out  money  to  be  paid  with  interest  on 
his  return  from  Jerusalem  (or,  as  we  should  now  speak,  travel- 
ling thither  for  a  wager),  defends  it  as  an  honest  means  of  gain- 
ing the  charges  of  his  journey,  especially  when  '  no  meane  lords, 
and  lords'  sonnes,  and  gentlemen  in  our  court,  put  out  money 
upon  a  horse  race  under  themselves,  yea,  upon  a  journey  afoote.' 

13  It  may  be  necessary  to  apprize  the  reader  that  the  sand  of 
an  hour  glass  used  to  measure  time  is  meant*  The  figurative 
meaning  is  swifter  than  the  flight  of  time. 

14  A  franklin  is  a  yeoman*    See  vol.  v.  p.  151,  note  12. 

15  That  is  *  you'd  best  consider.'  Thus  again  in  Sc.  6,  p.  86, 
'  I  were  best  not  call.' 

16  '  I  see  neither  on  this  side  nor  on  that,  nor  behind  me} 

G2  ~\ 

66  GYMBEL1NE.  ACT  111. 


Wales.     A  mountainous  Country,  with  a  Cave, 

Enter  Belarius,  Guiderius,  and  Arviragus. 

Bet.  A  goodly  day  not  to  keep  house,  with  such 
Whose  roof's  as  low  as  ours !  Stoop,  boys :  This  gate 
Instructs  you  how  to  adore  the  heavens;  and  bows  you 
To  a  morning's  .holy  office :  The  gates  of  monarchs 
Are  arch'd  so  high,  that  giants  may  jet 1  through 
And  keep  their  impious  turbans  on,  without 
Good  morrow  to  the  sun.: — Hail,  thou  fair  heaven  I 
We  house  i'the  rock,  yet  use  thee  not  so  hardly 
As  prouder  livers  do. 

Gui.  Hail,  heaven! 

Arv.  Hail,  heaven ! 

Bel.  Now,  for  our  mountain  sport :  Up  to  yon  hill, 
Your  legs  are  young ;.  I'll  tread  these  flats..    Con- 
When  you  above  perceive  me  like  a  crow, 
That  it  is  place  which  lessens,  and  sets  off. 
And  you  may  then  revolve  what  tales  1  have  told  you, 
Of  courts,  of  princes,  of  the  tricks  in  war : 
This  service  is  not  service,  so  being  done, 
But  being  so  allow'd  2 :  To  apprehend  thus, 
Draws  us  a  profit  from  all  things  we  see  : 

but  find  a  fog  in  each  of  those  quarters  that  my  eye  cannot 
pierce.  The  way  to  Mil  ford  is  alone  clear  and  open :  Let  us 
therefore  instantly  set  forward/  By  '  what  ensues/  Imogen 
means  what  will  be  the  consequence  of  the  step  I  am  going  to 

1  Strut,  walk  proudly.  So  in  Twelfth  Night,  «  How  he  jets 
under  his  advanced  plumes/  The  idea  of  a  giant  was,  among 
the  readers  of  romances,  who  were  almost  all  the  readers  of 
those  times,  always  confounded  with  that  of  a  Saracen. 

3  '  In  any  service  done,  the  advantage  rises  not  from  the  act, 
bat  from  the  allowance  (i.  e.  approval)  of  it.' 


And  often  to  our  comfort,,  shall  we  find 
The  sharded3  beetle  in  a  safer  hold 
Than  is  the  full-wing'd  eagle.     O,  this  life 
Is  nobler,  than  attending  for  a  check ; 
Richer,  than  doing  nothing  for  a  brabe4;. 
Prouder,  than  rustling  in  unpaid-for  silk: 
Such  gain  the  cap  of  him,  that  makes  him  fine, 
Yet  keeps  his  book  uncross'd:  no  life  to  ours5. 
Gui.  Out  of  your  proof  you  speak :   we,,  poor 

Have  never  wing'd  from  view  o'the  nest;  nor  know 

What  air's  from  home.     Haply,  this  life  is  best,.     . 
If  quiet  life  be  best ;  sweeter  to  you, 
That  have  a  sharper  known :  well  corresponding 
With  your  stiff  age;  but,  unto  us,  it  is 
A  cell  of  ignorance ;  travelling  abed ; 
A  prison  for  a  debtor,. that  not  dares. 
To  stride  a  limit6. 

3  i.  e.  scaly  winged  beetle.  See  vol.  iv.  p.  266,  note  8.  And 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2,  note  3.  The  epithet  full- 
winged,  applied  to  the  eagle,  sufficiently  marks  the  contrast  of 
the  poet's  imagery;  for  whilst  the  bird  can  soar  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  eye,  the  insect  can  but  just  rise  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  and  that  at  the  close  of  day. 

4  The  old  copy  reads  babe;  the  uncommon  word  brabe  not 
being  familiar  to  the  compositor.  A  brabe  is  a  contemptuous  or 
prood  look,  word,  or  gesture;  quasi,  a  brave.  Speght,  in  his 
Glossary  to  Chaucer,  edit.  1602,  explains  '  Heth  [or  hething] 
brabes  and  such  like/  i.  e.  scornful  or  contumelious  looks  or 
words.  The  context  requires  a  word  of  this  meaning.  To 
check  is  to  reprove,  to  taunt,  to  rebuke,  '  Doing  nothing'  means 
being  busied  in  petty  and  unimportant  employments,  Nihil  ay  ere. 
Dr.  Johnson  proposed  the  word  brabe  from  brabium,  Lat.  or 
/3pa/3ctov,  a  fee  or  reward ;  but  he  was  not  aware  that  it  existed 
in  our  language  with  a  different  meaning.  Bauble  and  bribe 
have  been  proposed  and  adopted  by  some  editors. 

5  i.  e.  compared  to  ours.     See  vol.  iv.  p.  272,  note  9. 

6  To  stride  a  limit  is  to  overpass  his  bound. 



Arv.  What  should  we  speak  of7, 

When  we  are  old  as  you  ?  when  we  shall  hear 
The  rain  and  wind  beat  dark  December,  how, 
In  this  our  pinching  cave,  shall  we  discourse 
The  freezing  hours  away?  We  have  seen  nothing: 
We  are  beastly ;  subtle  as  the  fox,  for  prey ; 
Like  warlike  as  the  wolf,  for  what  we  eat : 
Our  valour  is,  to  chase  what  flies ;  our  cage 
We  make  a  quire,  as  doth  the  prison  bird, 
And  sing  our  bondage  freely. 

Bel.  How  you  speak8! 

Did  you  but  know  the  city's  usuries, 
And  felt  them  knowingly  :  the  art  o'the  court, 
As  hard  to  leave,  as  keep ;  whose  top  to  climb 
Is  certain  falling,  or  so  slippery,  that 
The  fear's  as  bad  as  falling:  the  toil  of  the  war, 
A  pain  that  only  seems  to  seek  out  danger 
I'the  name  of  fame,  and  honour;  which  dies  i'the 

search ; 
And  hath  as  oft  a  slanderous  epitaph, 
As  record  of  fair  act ;  nay,  many  times, 
Doth  ill  deserve  by  doing  well ;  what's  worse, 
Must  court'sey  at  the  censure: — >0,  boys,  this  story 
The  world  may  read  in  me  :  My  body's  mark'd 
With  Roman  swords :  and  my  report  was  once     - 
First  with  the  best  of  note :  Cymbeline  lovM  me ; 
And  when  a  soldier  was  the  theme,  my  name 
Was  not  far  off:  Then  was  I  as  a  tree, 
Whose  boughs  did  bend  with  fruit ;  but  in  one  night, 

7  '  This  dread  of  an  old  age  misapplied  with  matter  for  dis- 
course and  meditation,  is  a  sentiment  natural  and  noble.  No 
state  can  be  more  destitute  than  that  of  him,  who,  when  the  de- 
lights of  sense  forsake  him,  has  no  pleasures  of  the  mind.' 


8  Otway  seems  to  have  taken  many  hints  for  the  conversation 
which  passes  between  Acasto  and  his  sons  from  the  scene  be- 
fore  us. 

sc.  in.,  CYarBELnfE.  6& 

A  storm,  or  robbery,  call  it  what  you  will, 
Shook  down  my  mellow  hangings,  nay,  my  leaves, 
And  left  me  bare  to  weather9. 
Gui.  Uncertain  favour ! 

Bel.  My  fault  being  nothing  (as  1  have  told  you 

But  that  two  villains,  whose  false  oaths  prevail 'd 
Before  my  perfect  honour,  swore  to  Cymbeline, 
I  was  confederate  with  the  Romans :  so, 
Followed  my  banishment;  and,  this  twenty  years,   • 
This  rock,  and  these  demesnes,  have  been  my  world  s 
Where  I  have  liv'd  at  honest  freedom ;  paid 
More  pious  debts  to  heaven,  than  in  all 
The  fore-end  of  my  time. — But,  up  to  the  mountains  ; 
This  is  not  hunters'  language : — He,  that  strikes 
The  vension  first,  shall  be  the  lord  o'the  feast; 
To  him  the  other  two  shall  minister; 
And  we  will  fear  no  poison,  which  attends 
In  place  of  greater  state10.     I'll  meet  you  in  the* 

valleys.  [Exeunt  Gui.  and  Arv. 

How  hard  it  is,  to  hide  the  sparks  of  nature ! 
These  boys  know  little,  they  are  sons  to  the  king ; 
Nor  Cymbeline  dreams  that  they  are  alive. 
They  think,  they  are  mine:. and,  though  train'd  up 

thus1  meanly 
Fthe  cave,  wherein  they  bow,  their  thoughts  do  hit 
The  roofs  of  palaces ;  and  nature  prompts  them, 
In  simple  and  low  things,  to  prince  it,  much 
Beyond  the  trick  of  others.    This  Polydore,. 

9  Thus  in  Timon  of  Athens : — 

*  That  numberless  upon  me  stack,  as  leaves 
Do  on  the  oak,  have  with  one  winter's  brash 
Fallen  from  their  boughs,  and  left  me,  open,  bare, 
For  every  storm  that  blows.1 

10  ' nulla  aconita,  bibontur 

Fictilibus ;  tunc  ilia  time,  cum  pocula  sumes 

•     Gemmata,  et  lato  Setinum  ardebit  in  auro.'  Skv* 


The  heir  of  Cymbeline  and  Britain,  whom 
The  king  his.  father  caU'd  Guiderius, — Jove ! 
When  on  my  three-foot  stool  I  sit,  and  tell 
The  warlike  feats  I  have  done,  his  spirits  fly  out 
Into  my  story :  say, — Thus  mine  enemy  fell; 
And  thus  I  set  my  foot  on  his  neck  ;  even  then 
The  princely  blood  flows  in  his  cheek,  he  sweats, 
Strains  his  young  nerves,  and  puts  himself  in  posture 
That  acts  my  words.  The  younger  brother,  Cadwal 
(Qnce  Arviragus),  in  as  like  a  figure, 
Strikes  life  into  my  speech,  and  shows  much  more 
His  own  conceiving.  Hark !  the  game  is  rous'd ! — 
O  Cymbeline!  heaven,  and  my  conscience,  knows, 
Thou  didst  unjustly  banish  me :  whereon, 
At  three,  and  two  years  old,  I  stole  these  babes11; 
Thinking  to  bar  thee  of  succession,  as 
Thou  reft'st  me  of  my  lands.     Euriphile, 
Thou  wast  their  nurse ;  they  took  thee  for  theirmother, 
And  every  day  do  honour  to  her  grave 12 : 
Myself,  Bel  arms,  that  am  Morgan  call'd, 
They  take  for  natural  father.    The  game  is  up. 


SCENE  IV.     Near  Milford  Haven. 

Enter  Pisanio  and  Imogen. 


Lno.  Thou  told'st  me,  when  we  came  from  horse, 
the  place 
Was  near  at  hand:— Ne'er  longM  my  mother  so 

11  Shakspeare  seems  to  intend  Bel ar ins  for  a  good  character, 
yet  he  makes  him  forget  the  injury  which  he  has  done  to  the 
young  princes,  whom  he  has  robbed  of  a  kingdom,  only  to  rob 
their  father  of  heirs.  The  latter  part  of  this  soliloquy  is  very 
inartificial,  there  being  no  particular  reason  why  Belarius  should 
now  tell  to  himself  what  he  could  nqt  know  better  by  telling  it. 


13  i.  e.  to  the  grave  of  Euriphile ;  or  to  the  grave  of  *  their 


To  see  me  first,  as  I  have  now  : — Pisanio !  Man ! 
Where  is  Posthfimus1?  What  is  in  thy  mind, 
That  makes  thee  stare  thus  ?  Wherefore  breaks  that 

From  the  inward  of  thee?  One,  but  painted  thus,    - 
Would  be  interpreted  a  thing  perplex'd 
Beyond  self-explication :  Put  thyself 
Into  a  haviour  of  less  fear,  ere  wikmess 
Vanquish  my  staider  senses.     What's  the  matter? 
Why  tender'st  thou  that  paper  to  me,  with 
A  look  untender?  If  it  be  summer  news, 
Smile  to't  before :  if  winterly,  thou  need'st 
But  keep  that  countenance  stilL — My  husband's 

hand ! 
That  drag-damn'd  Italy  hath  out-craftied  him, 
And  he's  at  some  hard  point — Speak,  man;   thy 

May  take  off  some  extremity,  which  to  read 
Would  be  even  mortal  to  me. 

Pis.  Please  you,  read ; 

And  you  shall  find  me,  wretched  man,  a  thing 
The  most  disdain'd  of  fortune. 

Ima.  {Reads.]  Thy  mistress,  Pisanio,  hath  played 
the  strumpet  in  my  bed;  the  testimonies  whereof  lie 
bleeding  in  me.  I  speak  not  out  of  weak  surmises; 
from  proof  as  strong  as  my  grief  and  as  certain  as  I 
expect  my  revenge.  That  part,  thou,  Pisanio,  must 
act  for  me,  if  thy  faith  be  not  tainted  with  the  breach 
of  hers.     Let  thine  own  hands  take  away  her  life: 

mother/  as  they  supposed  it  to  he.  The  grammatical  construc- 
tion requires  that  the  poet  should  have  written  '  to  thy  grave ;' 
but  we  have  frequent  instances  of  this  change  of  persons  not 
only  in  Shakspeare,  hut  in  all  the  writings  of  his  age. 

1  The  true  pronunciation  of  Greek  and  Latin  names  was  not 
much  regarded  by  the  writers  of  Shakspeare's  age.     The  poet 
has,  however,  differed  from  himself,  and  given  the  true  pronun- 
ciation when  the  name  first  occurs,  and  in  one  other  place : — 
'  To  his  protection  ;  call  him  Posthumus* 
'  Struck  the  maintop!  O,  Port  humus!  alas.* 


/  shall  give  thee  opportunities  at  Milford  Haven : 
she  hath  my  letter  for  the  purpose ;  Where,  if  thou 
fear  to  strike,  and  to  make  me  certain  it  is  done, 
thou  art  the  pander  to  her  dishonour,  and  equally  to 
me  disloyal. 

Pis.  What  shall  I  need  to  draw  my  sword  ?  the 
Hath  cut  her  throat  already. — No,  'tis  slander; 
Whose  edge  is  sharper  than  the  sword ;  whose  tongue 
Outvenoms  all  the  worms2  of  Nile;  whose  breath 
Rides  on  the  posting  winds,  and  doth  belie 
All  corners  of  the  world:  kings,  queens,  and  states3, 
Maids,  matrons,  nay,  the  secrets  of  the  grave 
This  viperous  slander  enters. — What  cheer,  madam  ? 

Imo.  False  to  his  bed!  What  is  it,  to  be  false? 
To  lie  in  watch  there,  and  to  think  on  him? 
To  weep  'twixt  clock  and  clock  ?  if  sleep  charge 

To  break  it  with  a  fearful  dream  of  him, 
And  cry  myself  awake  ?  that's  false  to  his  bed  ? 
Is  it? 

Pis.  Alas,  good  lady ! 

Imo.  I  false  ?  Thy  conscience  witness : — Iachimo, 
Thou  didst'  accuse  him  of  incontinency ; 
Thou  then  look'dst  like  a  villain ;  now,  methinks, 
Thy  favour's  good  enough. — Some  jay  of  Italy, 
Whose  mother  washer  painting4,  hath  betray'd  him: 

3  It  has  already  been  observed  that  worm  was  the  general 
name  for  all  the  serpent  kind.  See  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act 
y.  Sc.  2,  note  31. 

3  i.  e.  persons  of  the  highest  rank. 

4  Putta,  in  Italian,  signifies  both  &jay  and  a  whore.  We  have 
the  word  again  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor : — *  Teach  him 
to  know  turtle  from  jays.'  See  vol.  i.  p.  239.  '  Some  jay  of 
Italy,  whose  mother  was  her  painting,  i.  e.  made  by  art.;  the 
creature  not  of  nature  but  of  painting.  In  this  sense  painting 
may  be  said  to  be  her  mother.  Steevens  met  with  a  similar 
phrase  in  some -old  play  ; — '  A  parcel  of  conceited  feather-caps, 
wMose fathers  were  their  garments*' 


Poor  I  am  stale,  a  garment  out  of  fashion ; 
And,  for  I  am  richer  than  to  hang  by  the  wails  5,  . 
I  must  be  ripp'd : — to  pieces  with  me! — 0, 
Men's  vows  are  women's  traitors !  All  good  seeming, 
By  thy  revolt,  O  husband,  shall  be  thought 
Put  on  for  villainy ;  not  born,  where't  grows ; 
But  worn,  a  bait  for  ladies. 

Pis.  Good  madam,  hear  me. 

Imo.   True  honest  men  being  heard,  like  false 
Were,  in  his  time,  thought  false :  and  Sinon's  weeping 
Did  scandal,  many  a  holy  tear :  took  pity 
From  most  true  wretchedness :  So,  thou ,  Posthumus, 
Wilt  lay  the  leaven  on  all  proper  men  6 ;  ' 
Goodly,  and  gallant,  shall  be  false  and  perjur'd, 
From  thy  great  fail.— -Come,  fellow,  be  thou  honest: 

*  That  is  to  be  hang  up  as,  useless  among  the  neglected  con- 
tents of  a  wardrobe.     So  in  Measure  for  Measure  : — 

'  That  have,  like  nnsconr'd  armour,  hung  by  the  wall,' 
Clothes  were  not  formerly,  as  at  present,  made  of  slight  mate- 
rials, were  not  kept  in  drawers,  or  given  away  as  soon  as  lapse 
of  time  or  change  of  fashion  had  impaired  their  value.  On  the 
contrary,  they  were  hang  up  on  wooden  pegs,  in  a  room  appro- 
priated to  the  sole  purpose  of  receiving  them  ;  and  though  such 
cast  off  things  as  were  composed  of  rich  substances  were  occa- 
sionally ripped  for  domestic  uses,  articles  of  inferior  quality  were 
suffered  to  hang  by  the  walls  till  age  and  moths  had  destroyed 
what  pride  would  not  permit  to  be  worn  by  servants  or  poor  re- 
lations : — 

'  Comitem  horridulum  trita  donare  lacerna,' 

seems  not  to  have  been  customary  among  our  ancestors.  When 
Queen  Elizabeth  died,  she  was  found  to  have  left  above  three 
thousand  dresses  behind  her.  Steevens  once  saw  one  of  these 
repositories  at  an  ancient  mansion  in  Suffolk,  which  (thanks  to 
a  succession  of  old  maids!)  had  been  preserved  with  supersti- 
tious reverence  for  almost  a  century  and  a  half. 

6  '  Wilt  lay  the  leaven  on  all  proper  men.' 

The  leaven  is,  in  Scripture  phraseology, '  the  whole  wickedness 
of  our  sinful  nature/  See  1  Corinthians,  v..  6,  7,  8.  '  Thy 
failure,  Posthumus,  will  lay  falsehood  to  the  charge  of  men  with- 
out guile  :  make  all  suspected. 

VOL.  IX.  H 


Do  thou  thy  master's  bidding:  when  thou  seest  him, 
A  little  witness  my  obedience :  Look ! 
I  draw  the  sword  myself:  take  it;  and  hit 
The  innocent  mansion  of  my  love,  my  heart: 
Fear  not:  'tis  empty  of  all  things,  but  grief: 
Thy  master  is  not  there ;  who  was,  indeed, 
The  riches  of  it:  Do  his  bidding ;  strike. 
Thou  may'st  be  valiant  in  a  better  cause ; 
But  now  thou  seem'st  a  coward. 

Pis.  Hence,  vile  instrument ! 

Thou  shalt  not  damn  my  hand. 

Imo.  Why,  I  must  die ; 

And  if  I  do  not  by  thy  fyand,  thou  art 
No  servant  of  thy  master's :  Against  self-slaughter 
There  is  a  prohibition  so  divine> 
That  cravens  my  weak  hand7.     Come,  here's  my 

Something's  afore't: — Soft,  soft;  well  no  defence; 
Obedient  as  the  scabbard. — What  is  here  ? 
The  scriptures8  of  the  loyal  Leonatus, 
All  turn'd  to  heresy  ?  Away,  away, 
Corrupters  of  my  faith !  you  shall  no  more 
Be  stomachers  to  my  heart !  Thus  may  poor  fools 
.  Believe  false  teachers  :  Though  those  that  are  be- 

Do  feel  the  treason  sharply,  yet  the  traitor 
Stands  in  worse  case  of  woe. 
And  thou,  Posthumus,  thou  that  didst  set  up 
My  disobedience  'gainst  the  king  my  father, 
And  make  me  put  into  contempt  the  suits 

7  *  That  makes  me  afraid  to  pat  an  end  to  my  own  life/  Ham- 
let exclaims  :-— 

'  O  that  the  Everlasting  had  not  fix'd 
His  canon  'gainst  self  slaughter.' 

8  Shakspeare  here  means  Leonatas's  letters,  but  there  is  an 
opposition  intended  between  scripture,  in  its  common  significa- 
tion, and  heresy. 


Of  princely  fellows9,  shalt  hereafter  find 
It  is  no  act  of  common  passage,  but 
A  strain , of  rareness:  and  I  grieve  myself, 
To  think,  when  thou  shalt  be  disedg'd  by  her 
That  now  thou  tir'st10  on,  how  thy  memory 
Will  then  be  pang'd  by  me. — Pr'ythee,  despatch : 
The  lamb  entreats  the  butcher :  Where's  thy  knife  ? 
Thou  art  too  slow  to  do  thy  master's  bidding, 
When  I  desire  it  too. 

Pis.  O  gracious  lady, 

Since  I  receiv'd  command  to  do  this  business, 
I  have  not  slept  one  wink. 

Into*  Do't,  and  to  bed  then. 

Pis.  I'll  wake  mine  eyeballs  blind  first11. 

Imo*  Wherefore  then 

Didst  undertake  it?  Why  hast  thou  abus'd 
So  many  miles  with  a  pretence  ?  this  place? 
Mine  action,,  and  thine  own  ?  our  horses'  labour  ? 
The  time  inviting  thee  ?  the  perturb'd  court, 
For  my  being  absent ;  whereunto  I  never 
Purpose  return  ?  Why  hast  thou  gone  so  far, 
To  be  unbent18,  when  thou  hast  ta'en  thy  stand, 
The  elected  deer  before  thee  ? 

9  Fellows  for  equals;  those  of  the  same  princely  rank  with 

*•  *    ■       when  thou  shalt  be  disedg'd  by  her 

That  now  thou  tir'st  on.' 
It  is  probable  that  the  first,  as  well  as  the  last,  of  these  meta- 
phorical expressions  is  from  falconry.  A  bird  X>f  prey  may  be 
said  to  be  disedged  when  the  keenness  of  its  appetite  it  taken 
away  by  tiring,  or  feeding,  upon  some  objeot  given  to  it  for  that 
purpose.     Thus  in  Hamlet:- — 

'  Oph.  You  are  keen,  my  lord,  you  are  keen. 

Ham,  It  would  cost  you  a  groaning  to  take  off  mine  edge.y 

11  Blind,  which  is  not  in  the  old  copy,   was  supplied  by 

13  To  have  thy  bow  unbent,  alluding  to  a  hunter.     So  in  one 
of  Shakspeare's  poems  in  The  Passionate  Pilgrim,  1509  :•— 
'  When  as  thine  eye  hath  chose  the  dame 
And  staWd  the  deer  thai  thou  should**  strike* 

?6  CYMBELINE/  ACT  in 

Pis.     •  But  to  win  time 

To  lose  so  bad  employment :  in  the  which 
I  have  considered  of  a  course ;  Good  lady, 
Hear  me  with  patience.. 

Imo.  Talk  thy  tongue  weary;  speal 

I  have  heard,  I  am  a  strumpet :  and  mine  ear, 
Therein  false  struck,  can  take  no  greater  wound, 
Nor  tent  to  bottom  that.     But  speak. 

Pis.  Then,  madai 

I  thought  you  would  not  back  again. 

Imo.  '  Most,  like 

Bringing  me  here  to  kill  me. 

Pis.  Not  so,  neither :     . 

But  if  I  were  as  wise  as  honest,  then 
My  purpose  would  prove  well.     It  cannot  be, 
But  that  my  master  is  abus'd  v 
Some  villain,  ay,  and  singular  in  his  art, 
Hath  done  you  both  this  cursed  injury. 

Imo.  Some  Roman  courtezan. 

Pis.  No,  on  my  lif 

I'll  give  but  notice  you  are  dead,  and  send  him 
Some  bloody  sign  of  it;  for  'tis  commanded 
I  should  do  so :  You  shall  be  miss'd  at  court, 
And  that  will  well  confirm  it. 

Imo.  Why,  good  fellov. 

What  shall  I  do  the  while  ?  Where  bide  ?  How  liv 
Or  in  my  life  what  comfort,  when  I  am 
Dead  to  my  husband  ? 

Pis.  If  you'll  back  to  the  court,- 

Imo.  Na  court,  no  father;  nor  no  more  ado 
With  that  harsh,  noble,  simple,  nothing13: 
That  Cloten,  whose  love-suit  hath  been  to  me 
As  fearful  as  a  siege. 

13  This  line  requires  some  word  of  two  syllables  to  compl< 
the  measure.    S tee v ens  proposed  to  read  : — 

'  With  that  harsh,  noble,  simple,  nothing,  Cloten ; 
That  Cloten^  &.c.  . 

SC.  IV.  CYMBEUNE.  7? 

Pis.  If  pot  at  court, 

Then  not  in  Britain  must  you  bide* 

Imo.  Where  then? 

Hath  Britain  all  the  sun  that  shines14?  Day,  night, 
Are  they  not  but  in  Britain  ?  I'the  world's  volume 
Our  Britain  seems  as  of  it,  but  not  in  it ; 
In  a  great  pool,  a  swan's  nest ; ,  Pr'ythee,  think 
There's  livers  out  of  Britain. 

Pis.  I  am  most  glad 

You  think  of  other  place.    The  embassador 
Lucius  the  Roman,  comes  to  Milford  Haven 
To-morrow :  Now,  if  you  could  wear  a  mind 
Dark  as  your  fortune  is 15 ;  and  but  disguise 
That,  which,  to  appear  itself,  must  not  yet  be, 
But  by  self-danger;  you  should  tread  a  course 
Pretty,  and  full  of  view16:  yea,  haply,  near 
The  residence  of  Posthumus ;  so  nigh,  at  least, 
That  though  his  actions  were  not  visible,  yet 
Report  should  render  him  hourly  to  your  ear,  « 
As  truly  as  he  moves, 

Imo.  O,  for  such  means! 

Though  peril  to  my  modesty,  not  death  on't, 
I  would  adventure. 

Pis.  Well  then,  here's  the  point : 

You  must  forget  to  be  a  woman ;  change 

14  The  poet  may  have  had  in  his  mind  a  passage  in  Lyly's 
Euphues,  which  he  has  imitated  in  King  Richard  II.  See  it  in 
a  note  on  that  play,  vol.  v.  p.  27. 

15  To  wear  a  dark  mind  is  to  carry  a  mind  impenetrable  to  the 
search  of  others.  Darkness,  applied  to  the  mindt  is  secrecy ; 
applied  to  the  fortune,  is  obscurity.  The  next  lines  are  obscure. 
'  Yon  mast  (says  Pisanio)  disguise  that  greatness  which,  to 
appear  hereafter  in  its  proper  form,  cannot  yet  appear  without 
great  danger  to  itself.* 

16  Full  of  view  appears  to  mean  of  ample  prospect,  affording  a 
complete  view  of  circumstances  which  it  is  your  interest  to  know. 
Thus  in  Pericles,  '  Full  of  face '  appears  to  signify  '  amply 
beautiful :'  and  Duncan  assures  Banquo  that  he  will  labour  to 
make  him  '  full  of  growing/  i.  e.  of '  ample  growth.' 



Command  into  obedience;  fear  and  niceness 
(The  handmaids  of  all  women,  or,  more  truly, 
Woman  its  pretty  self)  into  a  waggish  courage  ;- 
Ready  in.  gibes,  quick-answer'd,  saucy,  and 
As  quarrellous  as  the  weasel 17 :  nay,  you  must 
Forget  that  rarest  treasure  of  your  cheek, 
Exposing  it  (but,  O,  the  harder  heart ! 
Alack  no  remedy !)  to  the  greedy  touch 
Of  common-kissing  Titan  18 !  and  forget 
Your  laboursome  and  dainty  trims,  wherein 
You  made  great  Juno  angry. 

Imo.  Nay,  be  brief: 

I  see  into  thy  end,  and  am  almost 
A  man  already. 

Pis.  First,  make  yourself  but  like  oner 

Fore-thinking  this,  I  have  already  fit 
(Tis  in  my  cloak-bag)  doublet,  hat,  hose,  all 
That  answer  to  them :  Would  you,  in  their  serving, 
And  with  what  imitation  you  can  borrow 
From  youth  of  such  a  season,  'fore  noble  Lucius 
Present  yourself,  desire  his  service,  tell  him 

17  So  in  King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.  :— 

'  A  weasel  hath  not  such  a  deal  of  spleen 

As  yoa  are  toss'd  with.' 
This  character  of  the  weasel  is  not  mentioned  by  naturalists. 
Weasels  were  formerly,  it  appears,  kept  in  houses  instead  of 
cats,  for  the  purpose  of  killing  vermin.  Pbsedrus  notices  this 
their  feline  office  in  the  first  and  fourth  fables  of  his  fourth  book. 
The  poet  no  doubt  speaks  from  observation ;  while  a  youth  he 
would  have  frequent  opportunities  to  ascertain  their  disposition. 
Perhaps  this  note  requires  the  apology  which  Steevens  has 
affixed  to  it: — '  Frivola  haec  fortassis  cuipiam  et  nimis  levia 
esse  videantur  sed  curiositas  nihil  recusal.' — Vopiscus  in  Vita 
Aureliani,  ex. 

18  Thus  in  Othello  :.— 

'  The  bawdy  wind  that  kisses  all  it  meets/ 
So  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  lib.  iii.  «  And  beautiful  might  have  been 
if  they  had  not  suffered  greedy  Phoebus  over  often  and  hard  to 
kisse  them.' 


Wherein  you  are  happy 1£>  (which  you'll  make  him 

If  that  his  head  hajre  ear  in  musick),  doubtless, 
With  joy  he  will  embrace  you ;  for  he's  honourable; 
And,  doubling  that,  most  holy.  Your  means  abroad 
You  have  me20,  rich;  and  I  will  never  fail 
Beginning,  nor  supplyment. 

Imo.  Thou  art  all  the  comfort 

The  gods  will  diet  me  with21.     Pr'ythee,  away : 
There's  more  to  be  considered ;  but  we'll  even22 
All  that  good  time  will  give  us :  This  attempt 
I  am  soldier  to23,  and  will  abide  it  with 
A  prince's  courage.     Away,  1  pr'ythee.  * 

Pis.  Well,  madam,  we  must  take  a  short  farewell  v 
Lest,  being  miss'd,  I  be  suspected  of 
Your  carriage  from  the  court.     My  noble  mistress, 
Here  is  a  box ;  I  had  it  from  the  queen ; 
What's  in't  is  precious  ;  if  you  are  sick  at  sea, 
Or  stomach-qualm'd  at  land,  a  dram  of  this 
Will  drive  away  distemper. — To  some  shade, 
And  tit  you  to  your  manhood : — May  the  gods 
Direct  you  to  the  best ! 

Imo.  Amen:  I  thank  thee. 


19  i.  e.  wherein  you  are  accomplished, 

30  '  As  for  your  subsistence  abroad,  you  may  rely  on  me.* 

21  Steevens  has  a  note  on  this  passage  no  less  disgusting  than* 
absurd,  making  the  pure  Imogen  allude  to  the  spare  regimen 
prescribed  in  some  diseases.  The  interpretation  was  at  once 
gross  and  erroneous.  When  Iago  talks  of  dieting  his  revenge, 
he  certainly  does  not  mean  putting  it  on  a  spare  diet.  This,  and 
a  note  on  a  former  passage  of  this  play  by  Mr.  Whalley,  which 
could  only  have  been  the  offspring  of  impure  imaginations,  were 
justly  stigmatized  and  degraded  by  the  late  Mr.  Bos  well  at  the 
suggestion  of  Mr*  Douce. 

82  We'll  make  our  work  even  with  our  time;  we'll  do  what 
time  will  allow. 

a.  i.  e.  I  am  equal  to,  or  have  ability  for  i.L 

80  CYMBEL1NE.  ACT  111. 

SCENE  V.     A  Room  in  Cymbeline's  Palace. 

Enter  Cymbeline,  Queen,  Cloten,  Lucius,  and 


Cym.  Thus  far;  and  so  farewell. 

Luc.  Thanks,  royal  sir. 

My  emperor  hath  wrote;  I  must  from  hence; 
And  am  right  sorry,  that  I  must  report  ye 
My  master's  enemy. 

Cym.  Our  subjects,  sir, 

Will  not  endure  his  yoke :  and  for  ourself 
To  show  less  sovereignty  than  they,  must  needs 
Appear  unkinglike. 

Luc.  So,  sir,  I  desire  of  you 

A  conduct  oyer  land,  to  Milford  Haven.— 
Madam,  all  joy  befall  your  grace,  and  you l ! 

Cym.  My  lords,  you  are  appointed  for  that  office; 
The  due  of  honour  in  no  point  omit ; — 
So,  farewell,  noble  Lucius. 

Luc.  Your  hand,  my  lord. 

Clo.  Receive  it  friendly :  but  from  this  time  forth 
I  wear  it  as  your  enemy. 

X«c.  Sir,  the  event 

Is  yet  to  name  the  winner;  Fare  you  well. 

Cym.  Leave  not  the  worthy  Lucius,  good  my  lords, 
Till  he  have  cross'd  the  Severn. — Happiness ! 

[Exeunt  Lucius,  and  Lords.. 

Queen.  He  goes  hence  frowning :  but  it  honours  us, 
That  we  have  given  him  cause. 

Clo.  Tis  all  the  better ; 

Your  valiant  Britons  have  their  wishes  in  it 

Cym.  Lucius  hath  wrote  already  to  the  emperor 
How  it  goes  here.     It  fits  us  therefore,  ripely, 

1  We  Ihould  apparently  read  '  his  grace  and  you/  or  '  jour 
grace  and  yours.' 

SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  81 

Our  chariots  and  our  horsemen  be  in  readiness: 
The  powers  that  he  already  hath  in  Gallia 
Will  soon  be  drawn  to  head,  from  whence  he  moves 
His  war  for  Britain.. 

Queen.  lis  not  sleepy  business ; 

But  must  be  look'd  to  speedily,  and  strongly. 

Cym.  Our  expectation  that  it  would  be  thus, 
Hath  made  us  forward..    But,  my  gentle  queen, 
Where  is  our  daughter?  She  hath  not  appear d 
Before  the  Roman,  nor  to  us  hath  tendered 
The  duty  of  the  day  :  She  looks  us  like 
A  thing  more  made  of  malice,,  than  of  duty : 
We  have  noted  it.— Call  her  before  us ;  for 
We  have  been  too  slight  in  sufferance. 

[Exit  an  Attendant 

Queen.  Royal  sir, 

Since  the  exile  of  Posthumus,  most  retir'd 
Hath  her  life  been ;  the  cure  whereof,  my  lord, 
Tis  time  must  do.     'Beseech  your  majesty, 
Forbear  sharp  speeches  to  her :  she's  a  lady 
So  tender  of  rebukes,  that  words  are  strokes, 
And  strokes  death  to  her. 

Re-enter  an  Attendant. 

Cym.  Where  is  she,  sir  ?  How 

Can  her  contempt  be  answer'd  ? 

Atten.  Please  you,  sir, 

Her  chambers  are  all  lock'd ;  and  there's  no  answer 
That  will  be  given  to  the  loud'st  of  noise  we  make. 

Queen.  My  lord,  when  last  I  went  to  visit  her, 
She  pray'd  me  to  excuse  her  keeping  close ; 
thereto  constraint  by  her  infirmity, 
She  should  that  duty  leave  unpaid  to  you, 
Which  daily  she  was  bound  to  proffer :  this 
She  wish'd  me  to  make  known;  but  our  great  court 
Made  me  to  blame  in  memory. 

Cym.  z     .  Her  doors  YocW&'l 


Not  seen  of  late?  Grant,  heavens,  that  which  I 
Fear2  prove  false  I  [Exit, 

Queen.  Son,  I  Bay,  follow  the  king. 

Clo.  That  man  of  hers,  Pisanio,  her  old  servant, 
I  have  not  seen  these  two  days. 

Queen.  Go,  look  after.-— 

[Exit  Cloten. 
Pisanio,  thou  that  stand'st  so  for  Posthumus ! — 
He  hath  a  drug  of  mine :  I  pray,  his  absence 
Proceed  by  swallowing  that;  for  he  believes 
It  is  a  thing  most  precious.     But  for  her, 
TV  here  is  she  gone?  Haply,  despair  hath  seized  her; 
Or,  wing'd  with  fervour  of  her  love,  she's  flown 
To  her  desir'd  Posthumus :  *Gone  she  is 
To  death,  or  to  dishonour;  and  my  end 
Can  make  good  use  of  either :  She  being  down, 
I  have  the  placing  of  the  British  crown. 

Re-enter  Cloten. 

How  now,  my  son  ? 

Clo.  Tis  certain,  she  is  fled ; 

Go  in,  and  cheer  the  king ;  he  rages ;  none 
Dare  come  about  him. 

Queen.  All  the  better;  May 

This  night  forestall  him  of  the  coming  day3 ! 

[Exit  Queen.  , 

Clo.  I  love,  and  hate  her;  for  she's  fair  and  royal; 
And  that  she  hath  all  courtly  parts  more  exquisite 
Than  lady,  ladies,  woman4;  from  every  one 

*  Fear,  must  be  pronounced  as  a  dissyllable  to  complete  the 

8  i.  e.  may  his  grief  this  night  prevent  him  from  ever  seeing 
another  day,  by  anticipated  and  premature  destruction.  Thus  in 
Milton's  Comus  :~— 

'  Perh&psforestalling  night  prevented  them.' 
4  Than  any  lady,  than  all  ladies,  than  all  womankind.   There  is 
a  similar  passage  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  Act  ii.  Sc.  3  :— 
'  To  any  count  j  to  all  counts  \  to  what  is  mam' 

SC.  V.  CyMBKLINE»  88 

The  best  she  hath,  and  she,  of  all  compounded, 

Outsells  them  all :  I  love  her  therefore ;  But, 

Disdaining  me,  and  throwing  favours  on 

The  low  Posthumus,  slanders  so  her  judgment, 

That  what's  else  rare,  is  chok'd ;  and,  in  that  point, 

I  will  conclude  to  hate  her,  nay,  indeed, 

To  be  reveng'd  upon  her.     For,  when  fools 

Enter  Pisanio. 

Shall — Who  is  here?  What!    are  you  packing, 

Come  hither :  Ah,  you  precious  pander !  Villain, 
Where  is  thy  lady !  In  a  word ;  or  else 
Thou  art  straightway  with  the  fiends. 

Pis.  O,  good  my  lord! 

Clo.  Where  is  thy  lady  ?  or,  by  Jupiter 
I  will  not  ask  again.     Close  villain, 
111  have  this  secret  from  thy  heart,  or  rip 
Thy  heart  to  find  it.     Is  she  with  Posthumus  ? 
From  whose  so,  many  weights  of  baseness  cannot 
A  dram  of  worth  be  drawn. 

Pis.  Alas,  my  lord, 

How  can  she  be  with  him  ?  When  was  she  miss'd? 
He  is  in  Rome. 

Clo.  Where  is  she,  sir?  Come  nearer; 

No  further  halting :  satisfy  me  home, 
What  is  become  of  her? 

Pis.  O,  my  all- worthy  lord ! 

Clo.  All-worthy  villain ! 

Discover  where  thy  mistress  is,  at  once, 
At  the  next  word, — No  more  of  worthy  lord, — 
Speak,  or  thy  silence  on  the  instant  is 
Thy  condemnation  and  thy  death. 

Pis.  Then,  sir, 

This  paper  is  the  history  of  my  knowledge 
Touching  her  flight.  [Presenting  a  Letter. 


Clo.  Let's  see't : — I  will  pursue  her 

Even  to  Augustus'  throne. 

Pis.  Or  this,  or  perish5,  -x 

She's  far  enough ;  and  what  he  learns  by  this,  >  Aside. 
May  prove  his  travel,  not  her  danger.         3 

Clo.  Humph! 

Pis.  I'll  write  to  my  lord  she's  dead.  O  Imogen, 
Safe  may'st  thou  wander,  safe  return  again !  [Aside. 

Clo.  Sirrah,  is  this  letter  true  ? 
.    Pis.  Sir,  as  I  think. 

Clo.  It  is  Posthumus'  hand ;  I  know't, — Sirrah, 
if  thou  would'st  not  be  a  villain,  but  do  me  true 
service;  undergo  those  employments,  wherein  I 
should  have  cause  to  use  thee,  with  a  serious  in- 
dustry,— that  is,  what  villainy  soe'er  I  bid  thee  do, 
to  perform  it,  directly  and  truly, — I  would  think 
thee  an  honest-  man :  thou  shouldest  neither  want 
my  means  for  thy  relief,  nor  my  voice  for  thy  pre- 

Pis.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

Clo.  Wilt  thou  serve  me?  For  since  patiently 
and  constantly  thou  hast  stuck  to  the  bare  fortune 
of  that  beggar  Posthumus,  thou  canst  not  in  the 
course  of  gratitude  but  be  a  diligent  follower  of 
mine.     Wilt  thou  serve  me  ? 

Pis.  Sir,  I  will. 

Clo.  Give  me  thy  hand,  here's  my  purse.  Hast 
any  of  thy  late  master's  garments  in  thy  possession  ? 

Pis.  I  have,  my  lord,  at  my  lodging,  the  same 
suit  he  wore  when  he  took  leave  of  my  lady  and 

Ch.  The  first  service  thou  dost  me,  fetch  that 
suit  hither ;  let  it  be  thy  first  service ;  go. 

5  By  these  words  it  is  probable  Pisanio  means  '  I  must  either 
practise  this  deceit  upon  Cloten  or  perish  by  his  fury.'  Dr.  John- 
son thought  the  words  should  be  given*  to  Cloten. 

SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  85 

Pi*.  I  shall,  my  lord.  [Exit- 

Clo.  Meet  thee  at  Milford  Haven : — I  forgot  to 
ask  him  one  thing;  I'll  remember't  anon : — Even 
there  thou  villain,  Posthumus,  will  I  kill  thee. — I 
would  these  garments  were  come.  She  said  upon 
a  time  (the  bitterness  of  it  I  now  belch  from  my 
heart),  that  she  held  the  very  garment  of  Posthu- 
mus in  more  respect  than  my  noble  and  natural 
person,  together  with  the  adornment  of  my  qualities. 
With  that  suit  upon  my  back,  will  I  ravish  her: 
First  kill  him,  and  in  her  eyes;  there  shall  she  see 
roy  valour,  which  will  then  be  a  torment  to  her  con- 
tempt He  on  the  ground,  my  speech  of  insult- 
ment  ended  on  his  dead  body, — and  when  my  lust 
hath  dined  (which,  as  I  say,  to  vex  her,  I  will 
execute  in  the  clothes  that  she  so  praised),  to  the 
court  I'll  knock  her  back,  foot  her  home  again. 
She  hath  despised  me  rejoicingly,  and  I'll  be  merry 
in  my  revenge. 

Re-enter  Pisanio,  with  the  Clothes. 

Be  those  the  garments  ? 

Pis.  Ay,  my  noble  lord. 

Clo.  How  long  is't  since  she  went  to  Milford 

Pis.  She  can  scarce  be  there  yet. 

Clo.  Bring  this  apparel  to  my  chamber;  that  is 
the  second  thing  that  I  have  commanded  thee :  the 
third  is,  that  thou  shalt  be  a  voluntary  mute  to  my 
design.  Be  but  duteous,  and  true  perferment  shall 
tender  itself  to  thee. — My  revenge  is  now  at  Mil- 
ford; 'Would,  I  had  wings  to  follow  it! — Come, 
and  be  true.  [Exit. 

Pis.  Thou  bidd'st  me  to  my  loss :  for,  true  to  thee, 
Were  to  prove  false,  which  I  will  never  be,  t 

VOL.    IX.  I 


To  him  that  is  most  true6. — To  MHford  go, 
And  find  not  her  whom  thou  pursu'st.    Flow,  I 
You  heavenly  blessings,  on  her !  This  fool's  sj 
Be  cross'd  with  slowness ;  labour  be  his  meed 


SCENE  VI.    Before  the  Cave  of  Belariu 

Enter  Imogen,  in  Boy9*  Clothes. 

Imo.  I  see,  a  man's  life  is  a  tedious  one : 
I  have  tar'd  myself;  and  for  two  nights  togethi 
Have  made  the  ground  my  bed.    I  should  be 
But  that  my  resolution  helps  me.— Milford, 
When  from  the  mountain-top  Pisanio  show'd  t 
Thou  wast  within  a  ken :  O  Jove !  I  think, 
Foundations  fly  the  wretched 1 :  such,  I  mean. 
Where  they  should  be  reliev'd.  Two  beggars  tol 
I  could  not  miss  my  way :  Will  poor  folks  Ik 
That  have  afflictions  on  them ;  knowing  'tis 
A  punishment,  or  trial?  Yes;  no  wonder, 
When  rich  ones  scarce  tell  true :  To  lapse  in  fu 
Is  sorer2,  than  to  lie  for  need ;  and  falsehood 
Is  worse  in  kings,  than  beggars. — My  dear  lo 
Thou  art  one  o'the  false  ones :  Now  I  think  on 
My  hunger's  gone ;  but  even  before,  I  was 
At  point  to  sink  for  food. — But  what  is  this  ? 
Here  is  a  path  to  it :  Tis  some  savage  hold : 
I  were  best  not  call;  I  dare  not  call:  yet  fan 
Ere  clean  it  o'erthrow  nature,  makes  it  valiant 
Plenty,  and  peace,  breeds  cowards;  hardness 

r  « 

6  Pisanio,  notwithstanding  his  master's  letter  command 
murder  of  Imogen,  considers  him  as  true,  supposing,  as 
already  said  to  her,  that  Posthamus  was  abased  by  some 
equally  an  enemy  to  them  both. 

1  Thns  in  the  fifth  jEneid  :— 

'  Italiam  se^jimur  fugientemj 

3  i.  e.  is  a  greater  or  heavier  crime. 


Of  hardiness  is  mother* — Ho!  who's  here? 

If  any  thing  that's  civil 3,  speak ;  if  savage, 

Take,  or  lend. — Ho! — No  answer?  then  I'll  enter. 

Best  draw  my  sword;  and  if  mine  enemy 

But  fear  the  sword  like  me,  hell  scarcely  look  on't» 

Such  a  foe,  good  heavens !  [She  goes  into  the  Cave* 

Enter  Belarius,  Guiderius,  and  Arviragus. 

Bel.  You,  Polydore,  have  prov'd  best  wood- 
man4, and 
Are  master  of  the  feast :  Cadwal,  and  I, 
Will  play  the  cook  and  servant;  'tis  our  match5. 
The  sweat  of  industry  would  dry,  and  die, 
But  for  the  end  it  works  to.     Come ;  our  stomachs 
Will  make  what's  homely,  savoury  :  Weariness 
Can  snore  upon  the  flint,  when  restie6  sloth 
Finds  the  down  pillow  hard. — Now,  peace  be  here, 
Poor  house,  that  keep'st  thyself! 

Guu  I  am  thoroughly  weary. 

Arv*  I  am  weak  with  toil,  yet  strong  in  appetite. 

Gui.  There  is  cold  meat  i'the  cave ;  we'll  browze 
on  that, 
Whilst  what  we  have  kill'd  be  cook'd. 

Bel.  Stay ;  come  not  in : 

[Looking  in. 

8  Civil  is  here  civilized,  as  opposed  to  savage,  wild,  rude,  or 
uncultivated.    *  If  any  one  dwell  here/ 

4  A  woodman  in  its  common  acceptation,  as  here,  signifies  a 
hunter.     So  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece : — 

'  He  is  no  woodman  that  doth  bend  his  bow 
Against  a  poor  unseasonable  doe/ 

*  i.  e.  our  compact.    See  p.  69,  line  15. 

8  Restie,  which  Steevens  unwarrantably  changed  to  restive, 
signifies  here  dull,  heavy,  as  it  is  explained  in  Bnllokar's  Exposi- 
tor, 1616.  So  Milton  uses  it  in  his  Eiconoclastes,  sec.  24, '  The 
master  is  too  resty,  or  too  rich,  to  say  his  own  prayers,  or  to  bless 
his  own  table/  What  between  Malone's  '  resty,  rank,  mouldy,* 
and  Steevens's  '  restive,  stubborn,  refractory,'  the  reader  is  mis- 
led and  the  passage  left  unexplained ;  or,  what  is  *ora%,  **- 
plained  erroneonsif  in  all  the  variorum  edition*. 


But  that  it  eats  our  victuals,  I  should  think 
Here  were  a  fairy. 

Gui.  What's  the  matter,  sir? 

Bel.  By  Jupiter,  an  angel !  or,  if  not, 
An  earthly  paragon! — Behold  divineness. 
No  elder  than  a  boy ! 

Enter  Imogen. 

Imo.  Good  masters,  harm  me  not : 
Before  I  enter'd  here,  I  call'd  :  and  thought 
To  have  begg'd,  or  bought,  what  I  have  took:  Goo< 

I  have  stolen  nought ;  nor  would  not,  though  I  ha< 

Gold  stre  w'd  i'the  floor  r .   Here's  money  for  my  meat 
I  would  have  left  it  on  the  board,  so  soon 
As  I  had  made  my  meal ;  and  parted 
With  prayers  for  the  provider. 

Gui.  Money,  youth? 

Arv.  All  gold  and  silver  rather  turn  to  dirt! 
As  'tis  no  better  reckon'd,  but  of  those 
Who  worship  dirty  gods. 

Imo.  I  see,  you  are  angry : 

Know,  if  you  kill  me  for  my  fault,  I  should 
Have  died,  had  I  not  made  it. 

Bel,  Whither  bound? 

Imo.  To  Milford  Haven. 

Bel.  What  is  your  name? 

Imo.  Fidele,  sir :  I  have  a  kinsman,  who 
Is  bound  for  Italy ;  he  embark'd  at  Milford ; 
To  whom  being  going,  almost  spent  with  hunger, 
I  am  fallen  in8  this  offence. 

7  Hanmer  altered  this  to  *  o'the  floor/  but  unnecessarily, 
was  frequently  used  for  on  in  Shakspeare's  time,  as  in  the  Lord 
Prayer,  *  Thy  will  be  done  in  earth/  cat  EIII  rrjg  yrig.. 

8  In  for  into,  as  in  Othello : — 

'  Fallen  in  the  practice  of  a  cursed  slave/. 

SC.  VI.  CYMBEL1NE.  8fr 

Bel.  Pr'ythee,  fair  youth, 

Think  us  no  churls ;  nor  measure  our  good  minds 
By  this  rude  place  we  live  in.    Well  encountered ! 
Tis  almost  night :  you  shall  have  better  cheer 
Ere  you  depart;  and  thanks,  to  stay  and  eat  it, — 
Boys,  bid  him  welcome. 

Gui.  Were  you  a  woman,  youth, 

I  should  woo  hard,  but  be  your  groom. — In  honesty, 
I  bid  for  you,  as  I'd  buy. 

Arc.  I'll  make't  my  comfort, 

He  is  a  man;  111  love  bim  as  my  brother; — 
And  such  a  welcome  as  I'd  give  to  him, 
After  long  absence,  such  as  yours : — Most  welcome ! 
Be  sprightly,  for  you  fall  'mongst  friends. 

bno.  'Mongst  friends, 

If  brothers  ? — 'Would,  it  had  been  so,  that 


Had  been  my  father's  sons !  then  had  my  f    „  . , 
.    JQ  J  >  Aside. 

prize  y 

Been  less ;  and  so  more  equal  ballasting 

To  thee,  Posthumus. 

BeL  He  wrings 10  at  some  distress. 

Gui.  'Would,  I  could  free't ! 

Arc.  Or  I;  whate'er  it  be, 

What  pain  it  cost,  what  danger !  Gods ! 

BeL  Hark,  boys. 

[  Whispering. 

9  I  have  elsewhere  observed  that  prize,  prise,  and  price  were 
confounded,  or  used  indiscriminately  by  our  ancestors.  Indeed 
it  is  not  now  uncommon  at  this  day,  as  M alone  observes,  to  hear 
persons  above  the  vulgar  confound  the  words,  and  talk  of  high- 
pri*'d  and  low-prts'd  goods.  Prize  here  is  evidently  used  for 
value,  estimation.  The  reader  who  wishes  to  see  how  the  words 
were  formerly  confounded  may  consult  Baret's  Alvearie,  in  v. 

10  To  wring  is  to  writhe.  So  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing! 
Act  v.  Sc.  I,  p.  195 : — 

'  To  those  that  wring  under  the  load  of  sorrow.' 



Imo.  Great  men, 
That  had  a  court  no  bigger  than  this  cave, 
That  did  attend  themselves,  and  had  the  virtue 
Which  their  own  conscience  seal'd  them  (laying  by 
That  nothing  gift  of  differing  n  multitudes), 
Could  not  out-peer  these  twain.  Pardon  me,  gods! 
I'd  change  my  sex  to  be  companion  with  them, 
Since  Leonatus  false 12. 

BeL  It  shall  be  so : 

Boys,  we'll  go  dress  our  hunt. — Fair  youth,  come  in : 
Discourse  is  heavy,  fasting;  when  we  have  supp'd, 
We'll  mannerly  demand  thee  of  thy  story, 
So  far  as  thou  wilt  speak  it. 

Gui.  %  Pray  draw  near. 

■    Arv.  The  night  to  the  owl,  and  morn  to  the  lark, 
less  welcome. 

Imo.  Thanks,  sir. 

Arv.  I  pray,  dra^r  near.   [Exeunt 

SCENE  VII.    Rome. 

Enter  Two  Senators  and  Tribunes. 

1  Sen.  This  is  the  tenour  of  the  emperor's  writ; 
That  since  the  common  men  are  now  in  action 
'Gainst  the  Pannonians  and  Dalmatians ; 
And  that  the  legions  now  in  Gallia  are 
Full  weak  to  undertake  our  wars  against 
The  fallen  off  Britons ;  that  we  do  incite 

11  Differing  multitudes  are  varying  or  wavering  multitudes 
So  in  the  Induction  to  the  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  VI. : — 

'  The  still  discordant  wavering  multitude.' 

12  Malone  says,  'As  Shakspeare  has  used  in  other  places. 
Menelaus'  tent,  and  thy  mistress*  ear  for  '  Menelauses  tent/ 
and  '  thy  mistresses  ear;'  it  is  probable  that  he  used  'since 
Leonatus'  false'  for  '  since  Leonatus  is  false.'  Steevens  doubts, 
this,  and  says  that  the  poet  may  have  written  '  Since  Leonate  is 
false/  as  he  calls  Enobarbus,  Enobarbe;  and  Prospers  Prosper, 
in  other  places* 

SC.  VII.  €YMBELINE.  91 

The  gentry  to  this  business :  He  creates 
Lucius  pro-consul:  and  to  you  the  tribunes, 
For  this  immediate  levy,  he  commands 
His  absolute  commission 13.     Long  live  Caesar ! 
Tri.  Is  Lucius  general  of  the  forces? 
2  Sen.  Ay. 

Tri.  Remaining  now  in  Gallia  ? 
1  Sen.  With  those  legions 

Which  I  have  spoke  of,  whereunto  your  levy 
Must  be  supply  ant :  The  words  of  your  commission 
Will  tie  you  to  the  numbers,  and  the  time 
Of  their  despatch.. 
Tri..  We  will  discharge  our  duty. 


SCENE  I.     The  Forest,  near  the  Cave. 

Enter  Cloten. 

Clo.  I  am  near  to  the  place  where  they  should 
meet,  if  Pisanio  have  mapped  it  truly.  How  tit 
his  garments  serve  me!  Why  should  his  mistress, 
who  was  made  by  him  that  made  the  tailor,  not  be 
fit  too?  the  rather  (saving  reverence  of  the  word) 
for1  'tis  said,  a  woman's  fitness  comes  by  fits. 
Therein  I  must  play  the  workman.  I  dare  speak 
it  to  myself  (for  it  is  not  vain-glory,  for  a  .man  and 
his  glass  to  confer ;  in  his  own  chamber,  I  mean), 
the  lines  of  ray  body  are  as  well  drawn  as  his;  no 
less  young,  more  strong,  not  beneath  him  in  for- 
tunes, beyond  him  in  the  advantage  of  the  time, 

13  He  commands  the  commission  to  be  given  you.     So,  we  say,. 
I  ordered  the  materials  to  the  workmen. 
1  i.e.  cause.     See  vol.  iii.  p.  284,  note  4. 


above  him  in  birth,  alike  conversant  in  general  ser- 
vices, and  more  remarkable  in  single  oppositions': 
yet  this  imperseverant  thing  loves  him  in  my  despite. 
What  mortality  is !  Posthumus,  thy  head,  which 
now  is  growing  upon  thy  shoulders,  shall  within 
this  hour  be  off;   thy  mistress  enforced ;   thy  gar- 
ments cut  to  pieces  before  thy  face3:  and  all  this 
done,  spurn  her  home  to  her  father:  who  may, 
haply,  be  a  little  angry  for  my  so  rough  usage :  but 
my  mother,  having  power  of  his  testiness,  shall  turn 
all  into  my  commendations.     My  horse  is  tied  up 
safe :  Out,  sword,  and  to  a  sore  purpose !  Fortune, 
put  them  into  my  hand!   This  is  the  very  descrip- 
tion of  their  meeting-place;  and  the  fellow  dares 
not  deceive  me.  [Exit. 

SCENE  II.     Before  the  Cave. 

Enter,  from  the  Cave,  Belarius,  Guiderius, 
Arviragus,  and  Imogen. 

Bel.  You  are  not  well  [To  Imogen]:  remain 
here  in  the  cave : 
We'll  come  to  you  after  hunting. 

Arv.  Brother,  stay  here: 

[To  Imogen. 
Are  we  not  brothers  ? 

3  '  Id  single  combat*  So  in  King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.  Act  i. 
So.  3  :— 

'  In  single  opposition,  hand  to  hand, 
He  did  confound  the  best  part  of  an  hour 
In  changing  hardiment  with  great  Glendower.' 
An  opposite,  in  the  language  of  Shakspeare's  age,  was  the  com- 
mon phrase  for  an  antagonist.    See  vol.  i.  p.  365;  vol.ii.  p.  65, 
Imperseverant  probably  means  no  more  than  per  sever  ant,  like 
imbosomed,  impassioned,  immasked. 

3  Warburton  thought  we  should  read,  *  before  her  face.'  Ma* 
lone  says,  that  Shakspeare  may  have  intentionally  given  this 
absurd  and  brutal  language  to  Cloten.  The  Clown  in  The  Win- 
ter's Tale  says,  '  If  thou'lt  see  a  thing  to  talk  of  after  thou  art 


Imo.  So  man  and  man  should  be ; 

But  clay  and  clay  differs  in  dignity, 
Whose  dust  is  both  alike.     I  am  very  sick. 

Gui.  Go  you  to  hunting.     I'll  abide  with  him.. 

Imo.  So  sick  I  am  not;  yet  I  am  not  well : 
But  not  so  citizen  a  wanton,  as     . 
To  seem  to  die,  ere  sick:  So  please  you  leave  me; 
Stick  to  your  journal  course:,  the  breach  of.  custom 
Is  breach  of  all 1.     I  am  ill ;  but  your  being  by  me 
Cannot  amend  me :  Society  is  no  comfort 
To  one  not  sociable :  I'm  not  very  sick, 
Since  I  can  reason. of  it.   Pray  you,  trust  me  here : 
111  rob  none  but  myself;  and  let  me  die, 
Stealing  so  poorly. 

Gui.  I  love  thee;  I  have  spoke  it; 

How  much  the  quantity,  the  weight  as  much, 
As  I  do  love  my  father. 

Bel.  What?  how?  how? 

Arv.  If  it  be  sin  to  say  so,  sir,  I  yoke  me 
In  my  good  brother's  fault:  I  know  not  why 
I  love  this  youth;  and  I  have  heard  you  say, 
Love's  reason's  without  reason ;  the  bier  at  door, 
And  a  demand  who  is't  shall  die,  I'd  say,. 
My  father,  not  this  youth. 

Bel.  O  noble  strain !  [Aside. 

0  worthiness  of  nature !  breed  of  greatness ! 
Cowards  father  cowards,  and  base  things  sire  base : 
Nature  hath  meal,  and  bran;  contempt,  and  grace. 

1  am  not  their  father :  yet  who  this  should  be, 
Doth  miracle  itself,  lov'd  before  me. — 

Tis  the  ninth  hour  o'the  morn. 
Arv.  Brother,  farewell. 

Imo.  I  wish  ye  sport. 
Arv.  You  health. — So  please  you,  sir. 

1  *  Keep  your  daily  coarse  uninterrupted ;  if  the  stated  plan 
oflife  is  once  broken,  nothing  follows  but  confusion,.' — Johnson.* 


Imo.  [Aside.]  These  are  kind  creatures.    'God 
what  lies  I  have  heard ! 
Our  courtiers  say,  all's  savage,  but  at  court: 
Experience,  O,  thou  disprov'st  report! 
The  imperious3  seas  breed  monsters;  for  the  disli 
Poor  tributary  rivers  as  sweet  fish. 
I  am  sick  still;  heart-sick: — Pisanio, 
I'll  now  taste  of  thy  drag. 

Ouu  I  could  not  stir  him; 

He  said,  he  was  gentle  s,  but  unfortunate ; 
Dishonestly  afflicted,  but  yet  honest. 

Arv.  Thus  did  he  answer  me :  yet  said,  hereaft 
I  might  know  more. 

Bel.  To  the  field,  to  the  field  :— 

We'll  leave  you  for  this  time;  go  in,  and  rest. 

Arv.  We'll  not  be  long  away. 

Bel.  Pray,  be  not  sic 

For  you  must  be  our  housewife. 

Imo.  Well,  or  ill, 

I  am  bound  to  you. 

BeL  And  shalt  be  ever* 

[Exit  Imogei 
This  youth,  howe'er  distress'd,  appears,  he  hath  b« 
Good  ancestors. 

Arv.  How  angel-like  he  sings ! 

Gui.  But  his  neat  cookery  i  He  cut  our  roots  i 
characters ; 
And  sauc'd  our  broths,  as  Juno  had  been  sick, 
And  he  her  dieter. 

Arv.  Nobly  he  yokes 

3  Here  again  Malone  asserts  that  *  imperious  was  used  1 
Sbakspeare  for  imperial.*  This  is  absurd  enough  when  we  lo< 
at  the  context:  what  has  imperial  to 'do  with  seas?  Imperio 
has  here  its  usual  meaning  of  proud,  haughty.  See  Troilus  ai 
Cressida,  Act  iv.  Sc.  5,  note  27,  p.  425. 

3  '  1  could  not  move  him  to  tell  his  story.'  Gentle  is  of 
•gentle  race  or  rank,  well  born. 


A  smiling  with  a  sigh :  as  if  the  sigh 
Was  that  it  was,  for  not  being  such  a  smile ; 
The  smile  mocking  the  sigh,  that  it  would  fly 
From  so  divine  a  temple,  to  commix 
With  winds  that  sailors  rail  at. 

GuL  I  do  note, 

That  grief  and  patience,  rooted  in  him  both, 
Mingle  their  spurs  *  together. 

Arv.  Grow,  patience ! 

And  let  the  stinking  elder,  grief,  untwine 
His  perishing  root,  with  the  increasing  vine5 ! 

BeL  It  is  great  morning6.  Come;  away.— Who's 

Enter  Cloten. 

Clo.  I  cannot  find  those  runagates;  that  villain 
Hath  mock'd  me :  I  am  faint. 

BeL  Those  runagates ! 

Means  he  not  us?  I  partly  know  him;  'tis 
Cloten,  the  son  o'the  queen.     I  fear  some  ambush. 
I  saw  him  not  these  many  years,  and  yet 
I  know  'tis  he : — We  are  held  as  outlaws : — Hence. 

Gut.  He  is  but  one :  You  and  my  brother  search 
What  companies  are  near:  pray  you,  away; 
Let  me  alone  with  him. 

[Exeunt  Belarius  and  Arviragus. 

4  Spurs  are  the  longest  and  largest  leading  roots  of  trees. 
We  have  the  word  again  in  The  Tempest: — 

' the  strong  bas'd  promontory 

Have  I  made  shake,  and  by  the  spurs  • 
Pluck'd  up  the  pine  and  cedar.' 

5  How  much  difficulty  has  been  made  to  appear  in  this  simple 
figurative  passage !  which  to  me  appears  sufficiently  intelligible 
without  a  note.  *  Let  patience  grow,  and  let  the  stinking  elder, 
grief t  untwine  his  perishing  root  from  those  of  the  increasing 
vine,  patience.*  I  have  already  observed,  that  with,  from,  and 
by,  are  almost  always  convertible  words. 

6  The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  -Act  iv. 
Sc.  3,  p.  410.     It  is  a  Gallicism :— •  11  est  grand  matin.' 


Clo.  Soft  I  What  are  you 

That  fly  me  thus?  ^some  villain  mountaineers ? 
I  have  heard  of  such.     What  slave  art  thou  ? 

Gui.  A  thing 

More  slavish  did  I  ne'er,  than  answering 
A  store,,  without  a  knock7. 

Clo. .  Thou  art  a  robber, 

A  law-breaker,  a  villain :  Yield  -thee,  thief. 

Gui.  To  who?  to  thee?  What  art  thou?.  Have 
not  I 
An  arm  as  big  as  thine?  a  heart  as  big? 
Thy  words,  I  grant,  are  bigger ;  for  I  wear  not 
My  dagger  in  my  mouth8.     Say,  what  thou  art; 
Why  I  should  yield  to  thee? 

Clo.  Thou  villain  base, 

Know'st  me  not  by  my  clothes? 

Gui.  No,  nor  thy  tailor,  rascal, 

Who  is  thy  grandfather ;  he  made  those  clothes, 
Which,  as  it  seems,  make  thee9. 

Clo.  Thou  precious  varlet, 

My  tailor  made  them  not. 

Gui.  Hence  then,  and  thank 

The  man  that  gave  them  thee.   Thou  art  some  fool; 
I  am  loath  to  beat  thee. 
.    Clo.  Thou  injurious  thief, 

Hear  but  my  name,  and  tremble. 

Gui.  What's  thy  name  ? 

Clo.  Clo  ten,  thou  villain. 

Gui.  Cloten,  thou  double  villain,  be  thy  name, 

7  i.e.  than  answering  that  abusive  word  slave. 

8  So  in  Solyman  and  Perseda,  1599 : — 

*  I  fight  not  with  my  tongue :  this  is  my  orati-ix.' 
Macduff  says  to  Macbeth: — 

'        ■  I  have  no  words ; 

My  voice  is  in  my  sword.' 

?  See  a  note  on  a  similar  passage  in  a  former  scene,  p.  72, 
Act  ii».  Sc.4,  note  4. 


I  cannot  tremble  at  it;  were't  toad,  or  adder,  spider, 
Twould  move  me  sooner. 

Clo.  To  thy  further  fear, 

Nay,  to  thy  mere  confusion,  thou  shalt  know 
I'm  son  to  the  queen. 

Gui.  I'm  sorry  for't;  not  seeming 

So  worthy  as  thy  birth. 

Clo.  Art  not  afeard  ? 

Gui.  Those  that  I  reverence,  those  I  fear;  -the 
At  fools  I  laugh,  not  fear  them. 

Clo.  Die  the  death : 

When  I  have  slain  thee  with  my  proper  hand, 
I'll  follow  those  that  even  now  fled  hence, 
And  on  the  gates  of  Lud's  town  set  your  heads : 
Yield,  rustick  mountaineer.  [Exeunt,  fighting. 

Enter  Belarius  and  Arviragus. 

Bel.  No  company's  abroad. 

Arv.  None  in  the  world:  You  did  mistake  him,  sure. 

Bel.  I  cannot  tell :  Long  is  it  since  I  saw  him, 
But  time  hath  nothing  blurr'd  those  lines  of  favour 
Which  then  he  wore;  the  snatches  in  his  voice, 
And  burst  of  speaking,  were  as  his :  I  am  absolute, 
Twas  very  Cloten. 

Arv.  In  this  place  we  left  them : 

1  wish  my  brother  make  good  time  with  him, 
You  say  he  is  so  fell. 

Bel.  Being  scarce  made  up, 

I  mean,. to  man,  he  had  not  apprehension 
Of  roaring  terrors;  for  defect  of  judgment 
Is  oft  the  cure 10  of  fear :  But  see,  thy  brother. 

10  The  old  copj  reads, '  Is  oft  the  cause  of  fear;*  but  this  can- 
not be  right:  Belarius  is  Assigning  a  reason-  for  Cloten's  fool- 
hardy desperation,  not  accounting  (or  his  cowardice.  The  emen- 
dation adopted  is  Hanraer's. 

VOL.  IX.  K 


Re-enter  Guiderius,  with  Cloten's  Head. 

Gui.  This  Cloten  was  a  fool :  an  empty  purse, 
There  was  no  money  in't :  not  Hercules 
Could  have  knock'd  out  his  brains,  for  he  had  none : 
Yet  I  not  doing  this,  the  fool  had  borne 
My  head,  as  I  do  his. 

Bel.  What  hast  thou  done  ? 

Gui.  I  am  perfect11,  what:  cut  off  one  Cloten's 
Son  to  the  queen,  after  his  own  report; 
Who  calFd  me  traitor,  mountaineer ;  and  swore, 
With  his  own  single  hand  he'd  take  us  in13, 
Displace  our  heads,  where  (thank  the  gods!)  they 

And  set  them  on  Lud's  town. 

Bel.  We  are  all  undone. 

Gui.  Why,  worthy  father,  what  have  we  to  lose, 
But,  that  he  swore  to  take,  our  lives?  The  law 
Protects  not  us :  Then  why  should  we  be  tender 
To  let  an  arrogant  piece  of  flesh  threat  us ; 
Play  judge,  and  executioner,  all  himself; 
For13  we  do  fear  the  law?  What  company 
Discover  you  abroad  ? 

Bel.  No  single  soul 

Can  we  set  eye  on,  but,  in  all  safe  reason, 
He  musthave  some  attendants.  Though  his  humour14 
Was  nothing  but  mutation;  ay,  and  that 
From  one  bad  thing  to  worse ;  not  frenzy,  not 
Absolute  madness  could  so  far  have  rav'd, 
To  bring  him  here  alone :  Although,  perhaps, 

11  *  I  am  well  informed  what/     la  i.  e.  conquer,  subdue  us. 

13  For  again  in  the  sense  of  cause.  See  note  on  Act  iv.  Sc.  1, 
p.  91. 

14  The  old  copy  reads, '  his  honour.'  The  emendation  is  Theo- 
bald's. Malone  has  shown  that  the  honour  and  humour  have 
been  erroneously  printed  for  each  other  in  other  passages  of  the 
old  editions. 


It  may  be  heard  at  court,  that  such  as  we 
Cave  here,  hunt  here,  are  outlaws,  and  in  time 
May  make  some  stronger  head :  the  which  he  hearing 
(As  it  is  like  him),  might  break  out,  and  swear 
He'd  fetch  us  in ;  yet  is't  not  probable 
To  come  alone,  either  he  so  undertaking, 
Or  they  so  suffering:  then  on  good  ground  we  fear, 
If  we  do  fear  this  body  hath  a.  tail 
More  perilous  than  the  head. 

Arv.  Let  ordinance 

Come  as  the  gods  foresay  it:  howsoe'er, 
My  brother  hath  done  well, 

BeL  '      I  had  no  mind 

To  hunt  this  day :  the  boy  Fidele's  sickness 
Did  make  my  way  long  forth 15. 

Gui.  With  his  own  sword, 

Which  he  did  wave  against  my  throat,  I  hare  ta  en 
His  head  from  him :  I'll  throw't  into  the  creek 
Behind  our  rock ;  and  let  it  to  the  sea, 
And  tell  the  fishes,  he's  the  queen's  son,  Cloten ; 
That's  all  I  reck.  [Exit. 

Bel.  I  fear,  'twill  be  reveng'd  : 

*Would,  Polydore,  thou  had'st  not  done't !  though 

Becomes  thee  well  enough. 

Arv.  'Would,  I  had  done't, 

So  the  revenge  alone  pursued  me ! — Polydore, 
I  love  thee  brotherly ;  but  envy  much, 
Thou  hastrobb'd  me  of  this  deed :  I  would,  revenges, 
That  possible  strength  might  meet16,  would  seek  us 

And  put  us  to  our  answer. 

15  '  Fidele's  sickness  made  my  walk  forth  from  the  cave  tedi- 
ous.'    So  in  King  Richard  III. : — 

' oar  crosses  on  the  way 

Have  made  it  tedious/  &c. 

16  '  Such  pursuit  of  vengeance  as  fell  within  any  paMib\\\\3 
of  opposition.' 

100  CYMBEL1NE.  ACT  IV. 

Bel.  Well, 'tis  done : — 

We'll  hunt  no  more  to-day,  nor  seek  for  danger 
Where  there's  no  profit.     I  pr'ythee,  to  our  rock ; 
You  and  Fidele  play  the  cooks :  I'll  stay 
Till  hasty  Polydore  return,  and  bring  him 
To  dinner  presently. 

Arv.  Poor  sick  Fidele ! 

I'll  willingly  to  him :  To  gain  his  colour, 
I'd  let  a  parish  of  such  Clotens  blood17, 
And  praise  myself  for  charity.  [Exit. 

Bel.  O  thou  goddess, 

Thou  divine  Nature,  how  thyself  thou  blazon'st 
In  these  two  princely  boys !  They  are  as  gentle 
As  zephyrs,  blowing  below  the  violet, 
Not  wagging  his  sweet  head :  and  yet  as  rough, 
Their  royal  blood  enchaf  d,  as  the  rud'st  wind 18, 
That  by  the  top  doth  take  the  mountain  pine, 
And  make  him  stoop  to  the  vale.     Tis  wonderful, 
That  an  invisible  instinct  should  frame  them 
To  royalty  unlearn'd :  honour  untaught ; 
Civility  not  seen  from  other ;  valour, 
That  wildly  grows  in  them,  but  yields  a  crop 
As  if  it  had  been  sow'd !  Yet  still  it's  strange 
What  Cloten's  being  here  to  us  portends; 
Or  what  his  death  will  bring  us. 

Re-enter  Guiderius. 

Gut.  Where's  my  brother? 

I  have  sent  Cloten's  clotpoll  down  the  stream, 

17  '  To  restore  Fidele  to  the  bloom  of  health,  to  recall  the 
colour  into  his  cheeks,  I  would  let  out  the  blood  of  a  whole 
parish,  or  any  number  of  such  fellows  as  Cloten.'  A  parish  is  a 
common  phrase  for  a  great  number. 

*  Heaven  give  you  joy,  sweet  master  Palatine. 
And  to  you,  sir,  a  whole  parish  of  children/ 

The  Wits,  by  Davenant,  p.  222. 

18  See  a  passage  from  Shakspeare's  Lover's  Complaint,  cited 
in  vol  v.  p.  349,  note  3. 


In  embassy  to  his  mother ;  his  body's  hostage 

For  his  return.  [Solemn  Musick. 

Bel.  My  ingenious  instrument! 

Hark,  Polydore,  it  sounds !  But  what  occasion 
Hath  Cadwal  now  to  give  it  motion !  Hark ! 
Gui.  Is  he  at  home  ? 

Bel.  He  went  hence  even  now. 

Quu  What  does  he  mean?  since  death  of  my 
dearest  mother 
It  did  not  speak  before.     All  solemn  things 
Should  answer  solemn  accidents.     The  matter? 
Triumphs  for  nothing,  and  lamenting  toys19, 
,     Is  jollity  for  apes,  and  grief  for  boys, 
Is  Cadwal  mad  ? 

Re-enter  Arviragus,  bearing  Imogen,  as  dead,  * 

in  his  Arms. 

Bel.  Look,  here  he  comes, 

And  brings  the  dire  occasion  in  his  arms, 
Of  what  we  blame  him  for  ! 

Arv.  The  bird  is  dead, 

That  we  have  made  so  much  on.  .  I  had  rather 
Have  skipp'd  from  sixteen  years  of  age  to  sixty, 
To  have  turn'd  my  leaping  time  into  a  crutch, 
Than  have  seen  this. 

Gui.  O  sweetest,  fairest  lily ! 

My  brother  wears  thee  not  the  one  half  so  well, 
As  when  thou  grew'st  thyself. 

Bel.  O,  melancholy ! 

Who  ever  yet  could  sound  thy  bottom  ?  find 
The  ooze,  to  show  what  coast  thy  sluggish  crare  *° 

19  Toys  are  trifles. 

30  A  crare  was  a  small  vessel  of  burthen,  sometimes  spelled 
craer,  crayer,  and  even  craye.    The  old  copy  reads,  erroneously, 

' thy  sluggish  care.*    The  emendation  was  suggested  by 

Sympson  in  a  note  on  The  Captain  of  Beaumont  add  Fletcher : 

« let  him  venture 

In  some  decayed  crare  of  his  own/ 
The  word  frequently  occurs  in  Holinsbed  ;   as  twice,  p.  WW 

K  2 


Might  easiliesf  harbour  in  ? — Thou  blessed  thing ! 
Jove  knows  what  man  thou  might'st  have  made 

but  I21, 
Thou  diedst,  a  most  rare  boy,  of  melancholy ! — 
How  found  you  him  ? 

Arc.  Stark22,  as  you  see : 

Thus  smiling,  as  some  fly  had  tickled  slumber, 
Not  as  death's  dart,  being  laugh'd  at :  his  right  chet 
Reposing  on  a  cushion. 

Gui.  Where? 

Arv.  O9  the  floor ; 

His  arms  thus  leagu'd :  I  thought,  he  slept:  andp 
My  clouted  brogues23  from  off  my  feet,  whose  rud 

Answer'd  my  steps1  too  loud. 

GuL  Why,  he  but  sleeps  * 

vol.  ii.  And  in  Sir  T.  North's  Plutarch,  fol.295,  b. :— « Seudi 
then*  come  from  Catana,  in  little  fisher  boates  and  small  crayei 
So  T.  Watson  in  Amintas  for  his  Phillis,  printed  in  Engl  an 

*  Till  thus  my  soul  doth  passe  in  Charon's  crare* 

21  We  should  most  probably  read,  '  but  ahV  Ay  is  alwj 
printed  ah  I  in  the  first  folio,  and  other  books  of  the  tit 
Hence,  perhaps,  /,  which  was  used  for  the  ailirmative  parti 
ay,  crept  into  the  text.  '  Heaven  knows  (says  Belarius)  wl 
a  man  thou  wouldst  have  been  hadst  thou  lived;  but,  alas!  tli 
died'st  of  melancholy,  while  yet  only  a  most  accomplished  be 

22  Stark  means  entirely  cold  and  stiff. 

'  And  many  a  nobleman  lies  stark — 
Under  the  hoofs  of  vaulting  enemies.' 

King  Henry  IV.  Part  I 

23  *  Clouted  brogues'  are  coarse  wooden  shoes,  strengther 
with  clout  or  Aofr-nails.  In  some  parts  of  England  thinplatet 
iron,  called  clouts,  are  fixed  to  the  shoes  of  rustics. 

24  '  I  cannot  forbear  (says  Steevens)  to  introduce  a  passa 
somewhat  like  this  from  Webster's  White  Devil,  or  Vitto 
Corombona  [1612],  on  account  of  its  singular  beauty : — 

'  Oh,  thou  soft  natural  death !  thou  art  joint  twin 
To  sweetest  slumber !  no  rough-bearded  comet 
Stares  on  thy  mild  departure :  the  dull  owl 
Beats  not  against  thy  casement :  the  hoarse  wolf 
Scents  not  thy  carrion : — pity  winds  thy  corse, 
While  horror  waits  on  princes  V 

SC.  II.  CYMBEL1NE.  103 

If  he  be  gone,  he'll  make  his  grave  a  bed ; 
With  female  fairies  will  his  tomb  be  haunted, 
And  worms  will  not  come  to  thee  25. 

Arc.  With  fairest  flowers, 

Whilst  summer  lasts,  and  I  live  here,  Fidele, 
I'll  sweeten  thy  sad  grave :  Thou  shalt  not  lack 
The  flower,  that's  like  thy  face,  pale  primrose;  nor 
The  azur'd  harebell,  like  thy  veins ;  no,  nor 
The  leaf  of  eglantine,  whom  not  to  slander, 
Out-sweeten'd  not  thy  breath :  the  ruddock26  would, 
With  charitable  bill  (O  bill,  sore-shaming 
Those  rich-left  heirs,  that  let  their  fathers  lie 
Without  a  monument!)  bring  thee  all  this; 
Yea,Tind  furr'd  moss  besides,  when  flowers  are  none, 
To  winter-ground27  thy  corse. 

Gui.  Pr'y thee,  have  done ; 

And  do  not  play  in  wench-like  words  with  that 
Which  is  so  serious.     Let  us  bury  him, 
And  not  protract  with  admiration  what 
Is  now  due  debt. — To  the  grave. 

*  Steevens  imputes  great  violence  to  this  change  of  person, 
and  would  read, '  come  to  him;*  bat  there  is  no  impropriety  iti 
Gaiderias's  sadden  address  to  the  body  itself.  It  might,  indeed, 
be  ascribed  to  oar  author's  careless  manner,  of  which  an  in- 
stance like  the  present  occurs  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  act, 
where  Posthumus  says, 

* you  married  ones, 

If  each  of  you  would  take  this  course,  how  many 
Must  murder  wives  much  better  than  themselves.' 

See  Act  iii.  Sc.  3,  note  12,  p.  70,  ante. 

*  The  ruddock  is  the  red-breast. 

27  To  winter-ground  appears  to  mean  to  dress  or  decorate  thy 
corse  with  '  forred  moss,'  for  a  winter  covering,  when  there  are 
no  flowers  to  strew  it  with.  In  Cornucopia,  or  Divers  Secrets, 
&c.  by  Thomas  Johnson,  4 to.  1596,  sig.  E.  it  is  said,  'The 
robin  red-breast,  if  he  finds  a  man  or  woman  dead,  will  cover  all 
***  face  with  masse ;  and  some  thinke  that  if  the  body  should 
remain  unburied  that  be  would  cover  the  whole  body  also.'  The 
reader  will  remember  the  pathetic  old  ballad  of  the  Children  iu 
the  Wood. 

104  CYMBELINB.  ACT  1 

Arv.  Say,  where  shall's  lay  hi 

Gui.  By  good  Euriphile,  our  mother. 

Arv.  Be't  s 

And  let  us,  Polydore,  though  now  our  voices 
Have  got  the  mannish  crack,  sing  him  to  the  grou 
As  once  our  mother;  use  like  note,  and  words, 
Save  that  Euriphile  must  be  Fidele. 

Gui.  Cadwal, 
I  cannot  sing :  I'll  weep,  and  word  it  with  thee : 
For  notes  of  sorrow,  out  of  tune,  are  worse 
Than  priests  and  fanes  that  lie. 

Arv.  We'll  speak  it  tt 

Bel.  Great  griefs,  I  see,  medicine  the  less28: 
Is  quite  forgot.     He  was  a  queen's  son,  boys : 
And,  though  he  came  our  enemy,  remember, 
He  was  paid29  for  that:  Though  mean  and  migt 

Together,  have  one  dust;  yet  reverence30 
(That  angel  of  the  world),  doth  make  distinction 
Of  place'  tween  high  and  low.  Our  foe  was  prince 
And  though  you  took  his  life,  as  being  our  foe, 
Yet  bury  him  as  a  prince. 

Gui.  Pray  you,  fetch  him  hitl 

Thersites'  body  is  as  good  as  Ajax, 
When  neither  are  alive. 

38  So  in  a  former  passage  of  this  play : — 

< a  touch  more  rare 

Subdues  all  pangs  and  fears.' 

And  in  King  Lear  :— 

'  —  Where  the  greater  malady  is  fix'd, 
The  lesser  is  scarce  felt/ 

99  i.  e.  punished.  Falstaff,  after  having  been  beaten,  * 
in  the  dress  of  an  old  woman,  says,  '  I  pay'd  nothing  for  it 
tber,  bat  wasjxiid  for  my  learning.'  " 

30  Reverence,  or  due  regard  to  subordination,  is  the  p< 
that  keeps  peace  and  order  in  the  world. 

SC.  II.  CYMBELINE.  105 

Art?.  If  you'll  go  fetch  him, 

We'll  say  our  song  the  whilst.— Brother,  begin. 

[Exit  Belarius. 
Gui.  Nay,  Cadwal,  we  must  lay  his  head  to  the 
I     My  father  hath  a  reason  for't. 

Arv.  Tis  true. 

Gui.  Come  on  then,  and  remove  him. 
|        Arv.  So, — begin. 


Gui.  Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'the  sun31, 

Nor  the  furious  winter's  rages; 
Thou  thy  worldly  task  hast  done, 

Home  art  gone,  and  ta'en  thy  wages: 
Golden  lads  and  girls  all  must, 
As  chimney-sweepers,  come  to  dust. 

Arv.  Fear  no  more  the  frown  o'the  great, 
Thou  art  past  the  tyrant's  stroke ; 

Care  no  more  to  clothe,  and  eat ; 
To  thee  the  reed  is  as  the  oak  : 

The  sceptre,  learning,  physick,  must 

All  follow  this,  and  come  to  dust32. 

Gui.  Fear  no  more  the  lightning-flash, 
Arv.  Nor  the  all-dreaded  thunder-stone;  . 
Gui.  Fear  not  slander,  censure  rash ; 
Arv.   Thou  hast  finish' d  joy  and  moan: 

31  This  is  the  topick  of  consolation  that  nature  dictates  to 
all  men  on  these  occasions.  The  same  farewell  we  have  over 
the  dead  body  in  Lucian : — '  Tskvov  "aOXiov  "sKtrt  dul/rjat  i£, 
Scire  ireivrftniQ,'  &c. —  Warburton, 

32  ■  The  poet's  sentiment  seems  to  have  been  this: — All  hu- 
man excellence  is  equally  subject  to  the  stroke  of  death :  neither 
the  power  of  kings,  nor  the  science  of  scholars,  nor  the  art  of 
those  whose  immediate  study  is  the  prolongation  of  life,  can 
protect  them  from  the  final  destiny  of  man.' — Johnson. 


Both.  All  lovers  young,  all  lovers  must 

Consign33  to  thee,  and  come  to  dust* 

Gui.  No  exorciser3*  harm  thee! 
Arv.  Nor  no  witchcraft  charm  thee! 
Gui.  Ghost  unlaid  forbear  thee  ! 
Arv.  Nothing  ill  come  near  thee! 
Both*  Quiet  consummation35  have; 
And  renowned  he  thy  grave36! 

Re-enter  Belarius,  with  the  Body  of  Cloten. 

Gui.  We  have  done  our  obsequies :   Come  la} 

him  down. 
Bel.  Here's  a  few  flowers,  but  about  midnight, 
more : 
The  herbs,  that, have  on  them  cold  dew  o'the  night, 
Are    strewings    fitt'st   for    graves. — Upon    then 
faces  ^ : 

33  To  '  consign  to  thee'  is  to  '  sell  the  stme  oontract  with  thee; 
i.  e.  add  their  names  to  thine  upon  the  register  of  death,  So  in 
Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

•    « seal 

A  dateless  bargain  to  engrossing  death.' 

34  It  has  already  been  observed  that  exorciser  anciently  signi 
lied  a  person  who  conld  raise  spirits,  not  one  who  lays  them 
See  vol.  iii.  p.  335,  note  31. 

35  Consummation  is  used  in  the  same  sense  in  King  Edward  III 
1596  :— 

'  My  soul  will  yield  this  castle  of  my  flesh, 
This  mingled  tribute,  with  all  willingness, 
To  darkness,  consummation,  dust,  and  worms/ 
Milton,  in  his  Epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester,  i 
indebted  to  the  passage  before  as : — 

*  Gentle  lady,  may  thy  grave 
Peace  and  quiet  ever  have.' 

36  '  For  the  obsequies  of  Fidele  (says  Dr.  Johnson)  a  song 
was  written  by  my  unhappy  friend,  Mr.  William  Collins  of  Cbi 
chester,  a  man  of  uncommon  learning  and  abilities.  I  shall  giv 
it  a  plaoe  at  the  end,  in  honour  of  his  memory.' 

97  Malone  observes,  that  '  Shakspeare  did  not  recollect  whe 
he  wrote  these  words ;  that  there  was  but  one  face  on  which  th 

SC.  It.  CYMBELINE.  107 

You  were  as  flowers,  now  wither'd :  even  so 

These  herb'lets  shall,  which  we  upon  you  strow. — 

Gome  on,  away:  apart  upon  our  knees. 

The  ground,  that  gave  them  first,  has  them  again; 

Their  pleasures  here  are  past,  so  is  their  pain. 

[Exeunt  Bel.  Gtji.  and  Arv. 
Imo.  [Awaking.]   Yes,  sir,  to  Milford  Haven; 
Which  is  the  way  ? — 

I  thank  you.- — By  yon  bush  ?— Pray ,  how  far  thither  ? 

'Ods  pittikins38! — can  it  be  six  miles  yet? 

I  have  gone  all  night : — 'Faith,  I'll  lay  down  and 

But,  soft!  no  bedfellow :—0,  gods  and  goddesses! 

[Seeing  the  Body. 

These  flowers  are  like  the  pleasures  of  the  world ; 
This  bloody  man,  the  care  on't.- — I  hope,  I  dream ; 
For,  so,  I  thought  I  was  a  cave-keeper, 
And  cook  to  honest  creatures :  But  'tis  not  so ; 
Twas  but  a  bolt  of  nothing,  shot  at  nothing, 
Which  the  brain  makes  of  fumes.     Our  very  eyes 
Are  sometimes  like  our  judgments,  blind.     Good 

I  tremble  still  with  fear :  But  if  there  be 
Yet  left  in  heaven  as  small  a  drop  of  pity 
As  a  wren's  eye,  fear'd  gods,  a  part  of  it ! 
The  dream's  here  still ;  even  when  I  wake,  it  is 
Without  me,  as  within  me ;  not  imagin'd,  felt. 
A  headless  man ! — The  garments  of  Posthumus ! 
I  know  the  shape  of  his  leg ;  this  is  his  hand ; 
His  foot  Mercurial ;  his  Martial  thigh ; 
The  brawns  of  Hercules :  but  his  Jovial 39  face — 

flowers  could  be  strewed.'  It  is  one  of  the  poet's  lapses  of 
thought,  and  will  countenance  the  passage  remarked  upon  in 
Act  iy.  Sc.  1,  note  3,  p.  92,  ante. 

38  This  diminutive  adjuration  is  derived  from  God's  pity,  by 
the  addition  of  kin.     In  this  manner  we  have  also  'OfTs  bodtkins. 

*  '  Jovial  face'  here  signifies  such  a  face  as  belongs  to 


Murder  in  heaven? — How? — Tis  gone. — Pisanio, 
All  curses  madded  Hecuba  gave  the  Greeks, 
And  mine  to  boot,  be  darted" oh  thee !  Thou, 
Conspir'd  with  that  irregulous40  devil,  Cloten, 
Hast  here  cut  off  my  lord. — To  write,  and  read, 
Be  henceforth  treacherous ! — Damn'd  Pisanio 
Hath  with  his  forged  letters, — damn'd  Pisanio— 
From  this  most  bravest  vessel  of  the  world 
Struck  the  main-top ! — O,  Posthumus!  alas, 
Where  is  thy  head?  where's  that?  Ah  me!  where's 

Pisanio  might  have  kill'd  thee  at  the  heart, 
'And  left  this  head  on41.- — How  should  this  be? 

Pisanio  ? 
'Tis  he,  and  Cloten:  malice  .and  lucre  in  them 
Have  laid  this  woe  here.  O ,  'tis  pregnant,  pregnant42 ! 
The  drug  he  gave  me,  which,  he  said,  was  precious 
And  cordial  to  me,  have  I  not  found  it 
Murd'rous  to  the  senses?  That  confirms  it  home: 
This  is  Pisanio's  deed,  and  Cloten's  !  O ! — 
Give- colour  to  my  pale  cheek  with  thy  blood, 
That  we  the  hor rider  may  seem  to  those 
Which  chance  to  find  us:  O,  my  lord,  my  lord! 

Jove.     The  epithet  is  frequently  so  used  in  the  old  dramatic 

writers;  particularly  Hey  wood: — 

' Alcidps  here  will  stand 

To  plague  you  all  with  his  high  Jovial  hand.' 

The  Silver  Age. 

40  Irregulous  must  mean  lawless,  licentious,  out  of  rule.  The 
word  has  not  hitherto  been  met  with  elsewhere :  but  in  Reinolds's 
God's  Revenge  against  Adultery,  ed.  1671,  p.  121,  we  have 
'  irregulated  lust.' 

41  This  is  another  of  the  poet's  lapses,  unless  we  attribute  the 
error  to  the  old  printers,  and  read,  '  thy  head  on.'  We  nwst 
understand  by  'this  head,'  the  head  of  Posthumus;  the  bead 
that  did  belong  to  this  body. 

42  i.  e.  'tis  a  ready,  apposite  conclusion. 

SC.  II.  CYMBELINE.  109 

Enter  Lucius,  a  Captain,  and  other  Officers,  and  a 


Cap.  To  them  the  legions  garrison'd  in  Gallia, 
After  your  will,  have  cross'd  the  sea;  attending 
You  here  at  Milford  Haven,  with  your  ships : 
They  are  here  in  readiness. 
Luc.  But  what  from  Rome? 

Cap.  The  senate  hath  stirr'd  up  the  confiners, 
And  gentlemen  of  Italy ;  most  willing  spirits, 
That  promise  noble  service :  and  they  come 
Under  the  conduct  of  bold  Iachimo, 
Sienna's  brother43. 
Luc.  When  expect  you  them  ? 

Cap.  With  the  next  benefit  o'the  wind. 
Luc.  This  forwardness 

Makes   our  hopes  fair.     Command,   our  present 

Be  muster 'd;  bid  the  captains  look  to't. — Now,  sir, 
What  have  you  dream'd,  of  late,  of  this  war's  purpose  ? 
Sooth.   Last  night  the  very  gods  show'd.  me  a 
(I  fast45,  and  prayM,  for  their  intelligence),  Thus : — 
I  saw  Jove's  bird,  the  Roman  eagle,  wing'd 
From  the  spungy ^  south  to  this  part  of  the  west, 
There  vanish'd  in  the  sunbeams :  which  portends 

43  Shakspeare  appears  to  have  meant  brother  to  the  prince  of 
Sienna.  He  was  not  aware  that  Sienna  was  a  republic,  or  pos- 
sibly did  not  heed  it. 

44  It  was  no  common  dream,  bat  sent  from  the  very  gods,  or 
the  gods  themselves. 

45  Fast  for  fasted,  as  we  have  in  another  place  of  this  play 
lift  for  lifted  In  King  John  we  have  heat  for  heated,  waft  for 
wafted,  &c.  Similar  phraseology  will  be  found  in  the  Bible, 
Mark,  i.  31 ;  John,  xiii.  18;  Exodus,  xii.  8,  &c. 

46  Milton  has  availed  himself  of  this  epithet  in  Comus : — 

* . Thus  I  hurl 

My  dazzling  spells  into  the  tpungy  air.' 

VOL.  IX.  L 

110  CYMBELINE.  »  ACT  IV. 

Unless  my  sins  abuse  my  divination), 
Success  to  the  Roman  host. 

Luc.  Dream  often  so, 

And  never  false. — Soft,  ho !  what  trunk  is  here, 
Without  his  top?  The  ruin  speaks,  that  sometime 
It  was  a  worthy  building. — How !  a  page ! — 
Or  dead,  or  sleeping  on  him?  But  dead,  rather: 
For  nature  doth  abhor  to  make  his  bed 
With  the  defunct,  or  sleep  upon  the  dead. — 
Let's  see  the  boy's  face. ' 

Cap.  He  is  alive,  my  lord. 

Luc.  He/11  then  instruct  us  of  this  body. — Young 
Inform  us  of  thy  fortunes :  for  it  seems, 
They  crave  to  be  demanded :  Who  is  this, 
Thou  mak'st  thy  bloody  pillow  ?  Or  who  was  he, 
That,  otherwise  than  noble  nature  did47, 
Hath  alter'd  that  good  picture  ?  What's  thy  interest 
In  this  sad  wreck?  How  came  it?  Who  is  it? 
What  art  thou? 

Imo.  I  am  nothing :  or  if  not, 

Nothing  to  be  were  better.    This  was  my  master, 
A  very  valiant  Briton,  and  a  good, 
That  here  by  mountaineers  lies  slain:— Alas! 
There  are  no  more  such  masters  :  I  may  wander 
From  east  to  Occident,  cry  out  for  service, 
Try  many,  all  good,  serve  truly,  never 
Find  such  another  master. 

Luc.  'Lack,  good  youth! 

Thou  mov'st  no  less  with  thy  complaining,  than 
Thy  master  in  bleeding :  Say  his  name,  good  friend. 

imo.  Richard  du  Champ48.     If  I  do  lie,  and  do 

47  Who  has  altered  this  picture,  so  as  to  make  it  otherwise 
than  nature  did  it  ?  Olivia,  speaking  of  her  own  beauty  as  of  a 
picture,  asks  Viola  if  it '  is  not  well  done  V 

48  Shakspeare  was  indebted  for  his  modern  names  (which 
sometimes  are  mixed  with  ancient  ones),  as  well  as,  for  his  ana' 


No  harm  by  it,  though  the  gods  hear,  I  hope 

They'll  pardon  it.     Say  you,  sir  ? 

Luc.  Thy  name? 

Imo.  Fidele,  sir. 

Luc.  Thou  dost  approve  thyself  the  very  same : 
Thy  name  well  fits  thy  faith;  thy  faith,  thy  name. 
Wilt  take  thy  chance  with  me?  I  will  not  say, 
Thou  shalt  be  so  well  mastered ;  but,  be  sure, 
No  less  belov'd.     The  Roman  emperor's  letters, 
Sent  by  a  consul  to  me,  should  not  sooner 
Than  thine  own  worth  prefer  thee :  Go  with  me. 

Imo.  I'll  follow,  sir.  But  first,  an't  please  the  gods, 
I'll  hide  my  master  from  the  flies,  as  deep 
As  these  poor  pickaxes49  can  dig:  and  when 
With  wild  wood-leaves  and  weeds  I  have  strew'd 

his  grave, 
And  on  it  said  a  century  of  prayers, 
Such  as  I  can,  twice  o'er,  I'll  weep,  and  sigh ; 
And,  leaving  so  his  service,  follow  you, 
$o  please  you  entertain  me. 

Luc.  Ay,  good  youth; 

And  rather  father  thee,  than  master  thee. — 
kfy  friends, 

rhe  boy  hath  taught  us  manly  duties :  Let  us 
Find  out  the  prettiest  daisied  plot  we  can, 
And  make  him  with,  our  pikes  and  partizans 
A  grave:  Come,  arm  him50. — Boy,  he  is  preferr'd 

hronisms,  to  the  fashionable  novels  of  his  time.    Steevens  cites 
ome  amusing  instances  from  A  Petite  Palace  of  Pettie  his 
'leasure,  1576.     But  the  absurdity  was  not  confined  to  novels  ;* 
he  drama  would  afford  numerous  examples. 

49  Meaning  her  fingers. 

60  That  is, '  take  him  up  in  jour  arms.'   So  in  Fletoher's  Two 
Hoble  Kinsmen  :— 

' Arm  your  prize, 

I  know  you  will  not  lose  her/ 
fhe  prize  was  Emilia. 


By  thee  to  us;  and  be  shall  be  interr'd, 

As  soldiers  can.     Be  cheerful;  wipe  thine  eyes: 

Some  falls  are  means  the  happier  to  arise.  [Exeunt, 

SCENE  III.     A  Room  in  Cymbeline  Palace. 

Enter  Cymbeline,  Lords,  and  Pisanio. 

Cym.  A  gain ;  and  bring  me  word,  how  'tis  with  her. 
A  fever  with  the  absence  of  her  son : 
A  madness,  of  which  her  life's  in  danger: — Hea- 
How  deeply  you  at  once  do  touch  me!  Imogen, 
The  great  part  of  my  comfort,  gone :  my  queen 
Upon  a  desperate  bed ;  and  in  a  time 
When  fearful  wars  point  at  me ;  her  son  gone, 
So  needful  for  this  present :  It  strikes  me,  past 
The  hope  of  comfort. — But  for  thee,  fellow, 
"Who  needs  must  know  of  her.  departure,  and 
Dost  seem  so  ignorant,  we'll  enforce  it  from  thee 
By  a  sharp  torture. 

Pis.  Sir,  my  life  is  yours, 

I  humbly  set  it  at  your  will :   But,  for  my  mistress, 
I  nothing  know  where  she  remains,  why  gone, 
Nor  when   she   purposes  return.     'Beseech  your 

Hold  me  your  loyal  servant. 

1  Lord.  Good,  my  liege, 

The  day  that  she  was  missing,  he  was  here : 
I  dare  be  bound  he's  true,  and  shall  perform 
All  parts  of  his  subjection  loyally. 
'For  Cloten, — 

There  wants  no  diligence  in  seeking  him, 
And  will 1,  no  doubt,  be  found. 

1  Perhaps  we  should  read,  '  hell  no  doubt  be  found.'  But 
this  omission  of  the  personal  pronoun  was  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon in  Shakspeare's  age.     There  are  several  other  instances  in 

SC.  HI.  CYMBEUNE.  113 

Cym.  The  time's  troublesome : 

We'll  slip  you  for  a  season ;  but  our  jealousy 


Does  yet  depend2. 

1  Lord.  So  please  your  majesty, 

The  Roman  legions,  all  from  Gallia  drawn, 
Are  landed  on  your  coast;  with  a  supply 
Of  Roman  gentlemen,  by  the  senate  sent. 

Cym.  Now  for  the  counsel  of  my  son,  and  queen ! — 
I  am  amaz'd  with  matter3. 

I  Lord.  Good  my  liege, 

Your  preparation  can  affront4  no  less, 
Than  what  you  hear  of:  come  more,  for  more  you're 

ready : 
The  want  is,  but  to.  put  those  powers  in  motion, 
That  long  to  move. 

Cym.  I  thank  you :  Let's  withdraw ; 

And  meet  the  time,  as  it  seeks  us.     We  fear  not 
What  can  from  Italy  annoy  us;  but 
We  grieve  at  chances  here. — Away.  [Exeunt. 

Pis.  I  heard  no  letter5  from  my  master,  since 
I  wrote  him*,  Imogen  was  slain :  Tis  strange : 
Nor  hear  I  from  my  mistress,  who  did  promise 
To  yield  me  often  tidings;  Neither  know  I 

these  plays,  especially  in  King  Henry  VIII. :  take  one  exam* 

pie  : — 

' which  if  granted, 

As  he  made  semblance  of  his  duty,  would 
Have  put  his  knife  into  him.' 

See  Lear,  Act  ii.  Sc.  4. 
3  '  My  suspicion  is  yet  undetermined ;  if  I  do  not  condemn* 

yon,  I  likewise  have  not  acquitted  you.'  We  now  say,  .tfee  cause 

is  depending. 

3  l.  e.  confounded  by  a  variety  of  business. 

4  *  Your  forces  are  able  to  face  such  an  army  as  we  hear  the 
enemy  will  bring  against  us.' 

"     *  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads,  '  Tve  had  no  letter.'     But  per- 
haps '  no  letter'  is  here  used  to  signify  '  no  tidings,'  not  a  syUab1 
of  reply. 



What  is  betid  to  CKoten ;  but  remain 
Perplex'd  in  all.     The  heavens  still  must  work : 
Wherein  J  am  false,  I  am  honest ;  not  true,  to  be  true. 
These  present  wars  shall  find  I  love  my  country, 
Even  to  the  note**  o'  the  king,  or  I'll  fall  in  them. 
All  other  doubts,  by  time  let  them  be  clear'd : 
Fortune  brings  in  some  boats,  that  are  not  steer  d. 


SCENE  IV.     Before  the  Cave. 

Enter  Belarius,  Guiderius,  and  Arviragvs. 

GuL  The  noise  is  round  about  us. 

Bel.  Let  us  from  it. 

Arv.  What  pleasure,  sir,  find  we  in  life,  to  lock  it 
From  action  and  adventure  ? 

Gui.  Nay,  what  hope 

Have  we  in  hiding  us?  this  way,  the  Romans 
Must  or  for  Britons  slay  us ;  or  receive  us 
For  barbarous  and  unnatural  revolts1 
During  their  use,  and  slay  us  after. 

BeL  Sons, 

We'll  higher  to  the  mountains;  there  secure  us. 
To  the  king's  party  there's  no  going ;  newness 
,   Of  Cloten's  death  (we  being  not  known,  not  mustei  d 
Among  the  bands)  may  drive  us  to  a  render2 
Where  we  have  liv'd;  and  so  extort  from  us 

6  '  I  will  so  distinguish  myself,  the  king  shall  remark  my 

1  i.  e.  revolters.    As  in  King  John : — 

'  Lead  me  to  the  revolls  of  England  here.' 
3  '  An  account  of  our  place  of  abode.'   This  dialogue  is  a  just 
representation  of  the  superfluous  caution  of  an  old  man. 

Render  is  used  in  a  similar  sense  in  a  future  scene  of  tbis 

'  My  boon  is,  that  this  gentleman  may  render 
Of  whom  he  had  this  ring.' 

SC.  IV.  CYMBEL1NE.  115 

That  which  we've  done,  whose  answer  would  be  death 
Drawn  on  with  torture. 

Gut.  This  is,  sir,  a  doubt, 

In  such  a  time,  nothing  becoming  you, 
Nor.  satisfying  us. 

Arv.  It  is  not  likely, 

That  when  they  hear  the  Roman  horses  neigh, 
Behold  their  quarter'd  fires  3,  have  both  their  eyes 
And  ears  so  cloy'd  importantly  as  now, 
That  they  will  waste  their  time  upon  our  note, 
To  know  from  whence  we  are. 

Bel.  O,  I  am  known 

Of  many  in  the  army:  many  years, 
Though  Cloten  then  but  young,  you  see,  not  wore  hi  in 
From  my  remembrance.     And,  besides,  the  king 
Hath  not  deserv'd  my  service,  nor  your  loves.; 
Who  find  in  my  exile  the  want  of  breeding, 
The  certainty  of  this  hard  life4;  aye  hopeless 
To  have  the  courtesy  your  cradle  promised, 
But  to  be  still  hot  summer's  tanlings,  and 
The  shrinking  slaves  of  winter. 

Gui.  Than  be  so, 

Better  to  cease  to  be.     Pray,  sir,  to  the  army : 
I  and  my  brother  are  not  known ;  yourself, 
So  out  of  thought,  and  thereto  so  o'ergrown, 
Cannot  be  question'd. 

Arv.  By  this  sun  that  shines, 

I'll  thither:  What  thing  is  it,  that  I  never 
Did  see  man  die  ?  scarce  ever  look'd  on  blood, 
But  that  of  coward  hares,  hot  goats,  and  venison  '? 
Never  bestrid  a  horse,  save  one,  that  had 
A  rider  like  myself,  who  ne'er  wore  rowel 

3  i.e.  the  fires  in  the  respective  quarters  of  the  Roman  army. 
Their  beacon  or  watch-fires.    So  in  King  Henry  V. : — 

'  Fire  answers  fire :  and  through  their  paly  flames 
Each  battle  sees  the  other's  umber'd  face/ 

4  That  is,  '  the  certain  consequence  of  this  hard  life.' 


Nor  iron  on  his  heel?  I  am  asham'd 
To  look  upon  the  holy  sun,  to  have 
The  benefit  of  his  bless'd  beams,  remaining 
So  long  a  poor  unknown. 

Gui.  By  heavens,  I'll  go : 

If  you  will  bless  me,  sir,  and  give  me  leave, 
I'll  take  the  better  care ;  but  if  you  will  not, 
The  hazard  therefore  due  fall  on  me,  by 
The  hands  of  Romans ! 

Arv.  So  say  I ;  Amen. 

Bel.  No  reason  I,  since  on  your  lives  you  set 
So  slight  a  valuation,  should  reserve 
My  crack'd  one  to  more  care.  Have  with  you,  boy  s : 
If  in  your  country  wars  you  chance  to  die, 
That  is  my  bed  too,  lads,  and  there  I'll  lie : 
Lead,  lead. — The  time  seems  long;    their  blood 
thinks  scorn,  [Aside. 

Till  it  fly  out,  and  show  them  princes  born. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.     A  Field  between  the  British  and 

Roman  Camps. 

Enter  Posthumus,  with  a  bloody  Handkerchief1. 

Post.  Yea,  bloody  cloth,  I'll  keep  thee ;  for  I  wish'd 
Thou  should'st  be  colour'd  thus.  You  married  ones, 
If  each  of  you  would  take  this  course,  how  many 
Must  murder  wives  much  better  than  themselves, 

1  The  bloody  token  of  Imogen's  death,  which  Pisanio,  in  the 
foregoing  act,  determined  to  send. 

'  This  is  a  soliloquy  of  nature,  uttered  when  the  effervescence 
of  a  mind  agitated  and  perturbed,  spontaneously  and  inadvert- 
ently discharges  itself  in  words.  The  speech  throughout  all  i{* 
tenour,  if  the  last  conceit  be  excepted,  seems  to  issue  warm 

SC.  I.  CYMBELINE.  117 

'or  wrying*  but  a  little? — O,  Pisanio ! 
Ivery  good  servant  does  not  all  commands : 
lo  bond,  but  to  do  just  ones. — Gods !  if  you 
bould  have  ta'en  vengeance  on  my  faults,  I  never 
[ad  liv'd  to  put  on3  this :  so  had  you  saved 
he  noble  Imogen  to  repent;  and  struck 
fe,  wretch,  more  worth  your  vengeance.  But,  alack , 
ou  snatch  some  hence  for  little  faults ;  that's  love, 
d  have  them  fall  no  more :  you  some  permit 
d second  ills  with  ills,  each  elder  worse4; 
nd  make  them  dread  it  to  the  doer's  shrift5. 

m  the  heart.  He  first  condemns  his  own  violence ;  then  tries 
disburden  himself  by  imputing  part  of  the  crime  to  Pisanio  ; 
next  sooths  his  mind  to  an  artificial  and  momentary  tran- 
illity,  by  trying  to  think'  that  he  has  been  only  an  instrument 
the  gods  for  the  happiness  of  Imogen.  He  is  now  grown 
sonable  enough  to  determine  that,  having  done  so  much  evil, 
will  do  no  more;  that  he  will  not  fight  against  the  country 
ich  he  has  already  injured ;  but  as  life  is  no  longer  support - 
e,  be  will  die  in  a  just  cause*  and  die  with  the  obscurity  of  a 
a  who  does  not  think  himself  worthy  to  be  remembered.' — 
inson.         • 

This  uncommon  verb  is  used  by  Stanyhurst  in  the  third 
k  of  tbe  translation  of  Virgil : — 

' the  maysters  torye  their  vessells.' 

1  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  lib.  i.  ed.  1633,  p.  67 : — '  That  from 
right  line  of  virtue  are  toryed  to  these  crooked  shifts.' 

To  put  on  is  to  incite,  instigate. 

The  last  deed  is  certainly  not  the  oldest;  but  Shakspeare 
s  the  deed  of  an  elder  man  an  elder  deed.  Where  corruptions 
,  they  grow  with  years,  and  the  oldest  sinner  is  the  greatest. 

The  old  copy  reads  : — 

'  And  make  them  dread  it  to  the  doers  thrift.', 

ich  the  commentators  have  in  vain  tormented  themselves  to 
e  a  meaning  to.  Mason  endeavoured  to  give  the  sense  of 
mtance  to  thrift:  but  his  explanation  better  suits  the  passage 
U  now  stands: — 'Some  you  snatch  hence  for  little  faults: 
ers  you  suffer  to  heap  ills  on  ills,  and  afterwards  make  them 
ad  having  done  so,  to  the  eternal  welfare  of  the  doers.' 
ift  is  confession  and  repentance.  The  typographical  error 
ild  easily  arise  in  old  printing,  when  sh  and  th  were  frequently 


But  Imogen  is  your  own :  Do  your  best  wills, 
And  make  me  bless'd  to  obey ! — I  am  brought  hithei 
Among  the  Italian  gentry,  and  to  fight 
Against  my  lady's  kingdom :  Tis  enough 
That,  Britain,  I  have  kilPd  thy  mistress;  peace! 
I'll  give  no  wound  to  thee.  Therefore,  good  heavens 
Hear  patiently  my  purpose :  I'll  disrobe  me 
Of  these  Italian  weeds,  and  suit  myself 
As  does  a  Briton  peasant:  so  I'll  fight 
Against  the  part  I  come  with;  so  I'll  die 
For  thee,  O  Imogen,  even  for  whom  my  life 
Is,  every  breath,  a  death:  and  thus,  unknown, 
Pitied  nor  hated,  to  the  face  of  peril 
Myself  I'll  dedicate.     Let  me  make  men  know 
More  valour  in  me,  than  my  habits  show. 
Gods  put  the  strength  o'the  Leonati  in  me ! 
To  shame  the  guise  o'the  world,  I  will  begin 
The  fashion,  less  without,  and  more  within.    [Exi 

SCENE  II.     The  same. 

Enter  at  one  side,  Lucius,  Iachimo,  and  the  R 
man  Army ;  at  the  other  side,  the  British  Arm\ 
Leonatus  Posthumus  following  it,  like 
poor  Soldier.  They  march  over,  and  go  01 
Alarums.  Then  enter  again  in  skirmish,  Iach 
mo  and  Posthumus  :  he  vanquisheth  and  d\ 
armeth  Iachimo,  and  then  leaves  him. 

Iach.  The  heaviness  and  guilt  within  my  bosoi 
Takes  off  my  manhood:  I  have  belied  a  lady, 
The  princess  of  this  country,  and  the  air  on't 
Revengingly  enfeebles  me;  Or  could  this  carl1, 

1  Carl  or  churl  (ceoril,  Sax.),  is  a  clown  or  countryman,  e 
is  used  by  our  old  writers  in  opposition  to  a  gentleman.  Pa 
grave,  in  bis  Eclaircissement  de  la  Langae  Francoise,  1530,  < 
plains  the  words  carle,  chorle,  churh,  by  vilain,  vilain  lourdier  ;  t 

SC.  II.  CYMBKLIlfK.  119 

A  very  drudge  of  natare's,  have  sabdu'd  ore, 

Is  ^profession?  Knighthoods  aad  honours,  borne 

As  I  wear  nae,  are  titles  bat  of  scorn. 

If  that  thy  geatry,  Britain,  go  before 

This  loot,  as  he  exceeds  oar  lords,  the  odds 

Is,  that  we  scarce  are  aiea,  aad  you  are  gods.  [£rif. 

The  Battle  continues;  the  Britons  fy;  Cymbb- 
line  is  take*:  then  enter  to  his  rescue,  Bela* 
rius,  Guiderius,  and  Arvirag us. 

BeL  Stand,  stand!  We  hare  the  advantage  of 
the  ground; 
The  lane  is  guarded :  nothing  routs  us,  but 
The  villany  of  our  fears. 

Gut.  Arv.  Stand,  stand,  and  fight ! 

Enter  Posthumus,  aad  seconds  the  Britons :  They 
rescue  Cymbeline,.  and  exeunt.  Then,  enter 
Lucius,  Iachimo,  and  Imogen. 

Luc.  Away,  boy,  from  the  troops,  and  save  thyself : 
For  friends  kill  friends,  and  the  disorder's  such 
As  war  were  hood-wink'd. 

lack.  Tis  their  fresh  supplies. 

Luc,  It  is  a  day  turn'd  strangely :  or  betimes 
Let's  reinforce,  or  fly.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.    Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Enter  Posthumus  and  a  British  Lord. 

Lord.  Cam'st  thou  from  where  they  made  the  stand  ? 
Post.  I  did  r 

Though  you,  it  seems,  come  from  the  fliers. 

churh/shnesse  by  vilainie,  rusticitt.    The  thought  seems  to  hate 
been  imitated  in  Philaster : — 

'  The  gods  take  part  against  me;  coild  this  boor 

Have  held  me.  thus  else  V 


Lord.  I  did. 

Post.  No  blame  be  to  you,  sir ;  for  all  was  lost, 
But  that  the  heavens  fought :  The  king  himself 
Of  his  wings  destitute  *,  the  army  broken, 
'  And  but  the  backs  of  Britons  seen,  all  flying 
Through  a  strait  lane ;  the  enemy  full-hearted, 
Lolling  the  tongue  with  slaughtering,  haying  work 
More  plentiful  than  tools  to  do't,  struck  down 
Some  mortally,  some  slightly  touch'd,  some  falling 
Merely  through  fear ;  that  the  strait  pass  was  damm'd 
With  dead  med,  hurt  behind,  and  cowards  living 
To  die  with  lengthen'd  shame. 

Lord.  Where  was  this  lane? 

Post.   Close  by  the  battle,  ditch'd,  and  wall'd 
with  turf; 
Which  gave  advantage  to  an  ancient  soldier, — 
An  honest  one,  I  warrant;*  who  deserv'd 
So  long  a  breeding,  as  his  white  beard  came  to, 
In  doing  this  for  his  country ; — athwart  the  lane, 
He,  with  two  striplings  (lads  more  like  to  run 
The  country  base2,  then  to  commit  such  slaughter; 
With  faces  fit  for  masks,  or  rather  fairer 
Than  those  for  preservation  cas'd,  or  shame  3), 
Made  good  the  passage ;  cry'd  to  those  that  fled, 
Our  Britain's  hearts  die  flying,  not  our  men: 
To  darkness  fleet  j  souk  that  fly  backwards!  Stand! 
Or  we  are  Romans,  and  wilt  give  you  that 
Like  beasts,  which  you  shun  beastly ;  and  may  save, 

1  The  stopping  of  the  Roman  army  by  three  persons  is  an  allu- 
sion to  the  story  of  the  Hays,  as  related  by  Holinshed  in  bis 
History  of  Scotland,  p.  155;  upon  which  Milton  once  intended 
to  have  formed  a  drama.  Shakspeare  was  evidently  acquainted 
with  it : — .'  Haie  beholding  the  king,  with  the  most  part  of  the 
nobles  fighting  With  great  valiancie  in  the  middle-ward,  now 
destitute  of  the  wings,'  &c. 

2  A  country  game  called  prison  bars,  vulgarly  prison-base. 
See  vol.  i.  p.  108,  note  9. 

^  Shame  for  modesty,  or  shamefacedness. 


But  to  look  back  in  frown :  stand,  stand. — These  three, 

Three  thousand  confident,  in  act  as  many 

(For  three  performers  are  the  file,  when  all 

The  rest  do  nothing),  with  this  word,  stand,  stand, 

Accommodated  by  the  place,  more  charming, 

With  their  own  nobleness  (which  could  have  turn'd 

A  distaff  to  a  lance),  gilded  pale  looks, 

Part,  shame,  part,  spirit  renew'd ;  that  some,  turn'd 

But  by  example  (O,  a  sin  in  war,  , 
Damn'd  in  the  first  beginners!)  'gan  to  look 
The  way  that  they  did,  and  to  grin  like  lions 
Upon  the  pikes  o'the  hunters..    Then  began 
A  stop  i'the  chaser,  a  retire;  anon, 
A  rout,  confusion  thick :  Forthwith  they  fly 
Chickens,  the  way  which  they  stoop'd  eagles;  slaves, 
The  strides  they  victors  made :  and  now  our  cowards 
(Like  fragments  in  hard  voyages),  became 
The  life  o'  the  need ;  having  found  the  back-door  open 
Of  the  unguarded  hearts,  Heavens,  how  they  wound  f 
Some,  slain  before;  some,  dying;,  some,  their  friends 
O'erborne  i'the  former  wave:  ten,  ch,as'd  by  one, 
Are  now  each  one  the  slaughter-man  of  twenty  : 
Those,  that  would  die  or  ere  resist,  are  grown 
The  mortal  bugs4  o'the  field. 

Lord.  This  was  strange  chance : 

A  narrow  lane !  an  old  man,  and  two  boys ! 

Post.  Nay,  do  not  wonder  at  it :  You  are  made 
Rather  to  wonder  at  the  things  you  hear, 
Than  to  work  any.     Will  you  rhyme  upon't, 
And  vent  it  for  a  mockery  ?  Here  is  one : 
Two  boys,  an  old  man  twice  a  boy,  a  lane, 
Preserv'd  the  Britons,  was  the  Romans'  bane. 

4  i.  e.  terrors,  bugbears.    See  King  Henry  VI.  Part  ill.  Act  v. 

'  For  Warwiok  was  a  bug  that  fenr'd  us  all.' 

VOL.  IX.  M 

122  CYMBELINE.  ACf  V. 

Lord.  Nay,  be  not  angry,  sir. 

Past.  'Lack,  to  what  end? 

Who  dares  not  stand  his  foe,  I'll  be  his  friend: 
For  if  he'll  do,  as  he  is  made  to  do, 
I  know,  he'll  quickly  fly  my  friendship  too. 
You  have  put  me  into  rhyme. 

Lord.  Farewell,  you  are'  angry.  [Exit. 

Pott.    Still  going?— This  is  a  lord!    O  noble 
misery ! 
To  be  i'the  field,  and  ask,  what  news,  of  me! 
To-day,  how  many  would  have  given  their  honours 
To  have  stftr'd  their  carcasses?  took  heel  to  do't, 
And  yet  died  too?  I,  in  mine  own  woe  charm'd5, 
Could  not  find  death,  where  I  did  hear  him  groan 
Nor  feel  him,where  he  struck :  Being  an  ugly  monster 
Tis  strange,  he  hides  him  in  fresh  cups,  soft  beds, 
Sweet  words;  or  hath  more  ministers  than  we 
That  draw  his  knives  i'the  war. — Well,  I  will  fin( 

For  being  now  a  favourer  to  the  Roman, 
No  more  a  Briton,  I  have  resum'd  again 
The  part  I  came  in :  Fight  I  will  no  more, 
But  yield  me  to  the  veriest  hind,  that  shall 
Once  touch  my  shoulder.     Great  the  slaughter  is 
Here  made  by  the  Roman ;  great  the  answer6  be 
Britons  must  take ;  For  me,  my  ransome's  death ; 
On  either  side  I  come  to  spend  my  breath ; 
Which  neither  here  I'll  keep,  nor  bear  again, 
But  end  it  by  some  means  for  Imogen. 

Enter  Two  British  Captains,  and  Soldiers. 

1  Cap.  Great  Jupiter  be  prais'd !  Lucius  is  taker 
'Tis  thought,  the  old  man  and  his  sons  were  angel 

5  Alluding  to  the  common  superstition  of  charms  being  po 
erfttl  enough  to  keep  men  unhurt  in  battle.  See  vol.  iv.  p.  32 
note  6. 

6  i.  e.  retaliation.     As  in  a  former  scene,  p.  115,  line  1 :— * 
'  That  which  we've  done,  w\io*fc  answer  would  be  death/ 

BC.  III.  CYMBEL1NE.  123 

2  Cap.  There  was  a  fourth  man,  in  a  silly  habit7, 
That  gave  the  affront8  with  them. 

1  Cap.  So  'tis  reported : 
But  none  of  them  oan  be  found. — Stand !  who  is 

Post.  A  Roman; 
.  f    Who  had  not  now  been  drooping  here,  if  seconds 
Had  answer'd  him. 

2  Cap.  Lay  hands  on  him ;  a  dog ! 
A  leg  of  Rome  shall  not  return  to  tell 
What  crows  have  peck'd  them  here.    He  brags  his 

As  if  he  were  of  note :  bring  him  to  the  king. 

Enter  Cymbeline,  attended:  Belarius,  Gui- 
derius,  Arviragus,  Pisanio,  and  Roman 
Captives.  The  Captains  present  Post h u  m  u  s  to 
Cymbeline,  who  delivers  him  over  to  a  Gaoler: 
after  which,  all  go  out9. 

SCENE  IV.     A  Prison. 

Enter  Posthumus,  and  Two  Gaolers. 

1  Gaol.  You  shall  not  now  be  stolen,  you  have 

locks  upon  you 1 ; 
So  graze,  as  you  find  pasture. 

2  Gaol.         Ay,  or  a  stomach.  [Exeunt  Gaolers. 

7  Silly  is  simple  or  rustick.  Thus  in  the  novel  of  Boccaccio, 
oo  which  this  plaj  is  formed :— '  The  servant,  who  had  no  great 
good  will  to  kill  her,  very  easily  grew  pitifull,  took  off  her  upper 
garment,  and  gave  her  a  poore  ragged  doublet,  a  silly  chappe- 

*  i.  e.  the  encounter.     See  vol.  iv.  p.  100,  note  5. 

9  This  stage  direction  for  '  inexplicable  dumb  show'  is  pro- 
bably an  interpolation  by  the  players.  Shakspeare  has  expressed 
his  contempt  for  such  mummery  in  Hamlet. 

1  The  wit  of  the  Gaoler  alludes  to  the  custom  of  putting  a 
lock  on  a  horse's  leg  when  he  is  tamed  out  to  pasture. 

124  CYMBEL1NE.  ACT  V. 

Post.  Most  welcome,  bondage !  for  thou  art  a  way, 
I  think,  to  liberty :  Yet  am  I  better 
Than  one  that's  sick  o'  the  gout :  since  he  had  rather 
Groan  so  in  perpetuity,  than  be  cur'd 
By  the  sure  physician,  death ;  who  is  the  key 
To  unbar  these  locks.     My  conscience!  thou  art 

More  than  my  shanks,  and  wrists :  You  good  gods, 

give  me 
The  penitent  instrument,  to  pick  that  bolt, 
Then,  free  for  ever!  Is't  enough,  I  am  sorry? 
So  children  temporal  fathers  do  appease ; 
Gods  are  more  full  of  mercy.     Must  I  repent?  . 
I  cannot  do  it  better  than  in  gyves, 
Desir'd,  more  than  constraint :  to  satisfy, 
If  of  my  freedom  'tis  the  main  part,  take 
No  stricter  render  of  me,  than  my  all2. 
I  know,  you  are  more  clement  than  vile  men, 
Who  of  their  broken  debtors  take  a  third, 
A  sixth,  a  tenth,  letting  them  thrive  again 
On  their  abatement ;  that's  not  my  desire : 
For  Imogen's  dear  life,  take  mine ;  and  though 
Tis  not  so  dear,  yet  'tis  a  life;  you  coin'd  it: 
Tween  man  and  man,  they  weigh  not  every  stamp; 
Though  light,  take  pieces  for  the  figure's  sake : 
You  rather  mine,  being  yours :  and  so,  great  powers, 
If  you  will  take  this  audit,  take  this  life, 

2  This  passage  is  very  obscure,  and  I  mast  say  with  Malom 
that  I  think  it  is  so  rendered  either  by  the  omission  of  a  line 
or  some  other  corruption  of  the  text.  I  have  no  faith  in  Ma 
lone's  explanation :  that  which  Steevens  offers  is  not  mach  mon 
satisfactory ;  bat  I  have  nothing  better  to  offer.  '  Posthumu 
questions  whether  contrition  be  sufficient  atonement  for  guilt 
Then,  to  satisfy  the  offended  gods,  he  desires  them  to  take  n 
more  than  his  present  all,  that  is,  his  life,  if  it  is  the  main  pari 
the  chief  point,  or  principal  condition  of  his  freedom,  i.  e.  of  hi 
freedom  from  future  punishment,' 

SC.  IV,  CYMBEL1NE.  125 

And  cancel  these  cold  bonds3.     O  Imogen ! 

ill  speak  to  thee  in  silence.  [He  sleeps, 

Solemn  Musick4.  Enter,  as  an  Apparition,  Sici- 
uus  Leonatus,  Father  to  Posthumus,  an 
old  Man,  attired  like  a  Warrior ;  leading  in  his 
hand  an  ancient  Matron,  his  Wife,  and  Mother 
to  Posthu mu s,  with  Mustek  before  them.  Then, 
after  other  Musick,  follow  the  Two  young  Leonati, 
Brothers  to  Posthumus,  with  wounds,  as  they 
died  in  the  Wars.  They  circle  Posthumus 
round,  as  he  lies  sleeping. 

Sici.  No  more,  thou  thunder  master,  show 
Thy  spite  on  mortal  flies : 
With  Mars  fall  out,  with  Juno  chide, 
That  thy  adulteries 

Rates  and  revenges. 
Hath  my  poor  boy  done  aught  but  well, 

Whose  face  I  never  saw  ? 
[  died,  whilst  in  the  womb  he  stay'd 
Attending  Nature's  law. 

3  So  in  Macbeth : — 

'  Cancel  and  tear  to  pieces  that  great  bond 
That  keeps  me  pale/ 

'here  is  an  equivoque  between  the  legal  instrument  and  bonds 
f  steel ;  a  little  out  of  its  place  in  a  passage  of  pathetic  excla- 

4  This  Scene  is  supposed  not  to  be  Shakspeare's,  but  foisted 
i  by  the  players  for  mere  show.  The  great  poet,  who  has  con- 
noted his  fifth  Act  with  such  matchless  skill,  could  never  have 
esigned  the  vision  to  be  twice  described  by  Posthumus,  had 
lis  contemptible  nonsense  been  previously  delivered  on  the 
tage.  It  appears  that  the  players  indulged  themselves  some- 
mes  in  unwarrantable  liberties  of  the  same  kind.  Nashe,  in 
is  feenten  Stnffe,  1599,  assures  us  that  in  a  play  of  his,  called 
le  Isle  of  Dogs,  four  acts,  without  his  consent,  or  the  least 
uess  of  his  drift  or  scope,  were  supplied  by  the  players.  See 
le  Prolegomena  to  Malone's  Shakspeare,  vol.  ii. j  article  Shak- 
yeare,  Ford,  and  Jonson. 

M  2 


Whose  father  then  (as  men  report, 

Thou  orphans'  father  art), 
Thou  should'st  have  been,  and  shielded  him 
From  this  earthrvexing  smart. 
Moth,  Lucina  lent  not  me  her  aid, 
But  took  me  in  my  throes ; 
That  from  me  was'Posthumus  ript, 
Came  crying  'mongst  his  foes, 
A  thing  of  pity ! 
Sici.  Great  nature,  like  his  ancestry, 
Moulded  the  stuff  so  fair, 
That  he  deserv'd  the  praise  o'the  world, 
As  great  Sicilius'  heir. 

1  Bro.  When  once  he  was  mature  for  man, 

In  Britain  where  was  he 
That  could  stand  up  his  parallel ; 

Or  fruitful  object  be 
In  eye  of  Imogen,  that  best 

Could  deem  his  dignity  ? 
Moth.  With  marriage  wherefore  was  he  mo* 

To  be  exil'd  and  thrown 
From  Leonati'  seat,  and  cast 

From  her  his  dearest  one, 
Sweet  Imogen  ? 
Sici.  Why  did  you  suffer  Iachimo, 

Slight  thing  of  Italy, 
To  taint  his  nobler  heart  and  brain 

With  needless  jealousy : 
And  to  become  the  geek5  and  scorn 

O'the  other's  villany? 

2  Bro.  For  this,  from  stiller  seats  we  came 

Our  parents,  and  us  twain, 
That,  striking  in  our  country's  cause, 

Fell  bravely,  and  were  slain ; 
Our  fealty,  and  Tenantius'  right, 

With  honour  to  maintain.  - 

fj       SC.  IV.  CYMBELINE.  127 

1  Bro.  Like,  hardiment  Posthumus  hath 
To  Cy  mbeline  perform'd : 
Then  Jupiter,  thou  king  of  gods, 

Why  hast  thou  thus  adjourn'd 
The  graces  for  his  merits  due; 
Being  all  to  dolours  turn'd  ? 
Sici.  Thy  crystal  window  ope ;  look  out ; 
No  longer  exercise, 
Upon  a  valiant  race,  thy  harsh 
And  potent  injuries : 
Moth.  Since,  Jupiter,  our  son  is  good, 

Take  off  his  miseries. 
Sici,  Peep  through  thy  marble  mansion ;  help ! 
Or  we  poor  ghosts  will  cry 
To  the  shining  synod  of  the  rest, 
Against  thy  deity. 
2  Bro.  Help,  Jupiter;  or  we  appeal, 
And  from  thy  justice  fly. 

Jupiter  descends  in  Thunder  and  Lightning,  sit- 
ting upon  an  Eagle:  he  throws  a  Thunder-bolt. 
The  Ghosts  fall  on  their  knees. 

Jup.  No  more,  you  petty  spirits  of  region  low, 

Offend  our  hearing;  hush ! — How  dare  you, ghosts, 
Accuse  the  thunderer,  whose  bolt,  you  know, 

Sky-planted,  batters  all  rebelling  coasts  ? 
Poor  shadows  of  Elysium,  hence ;  and  rest 

Upon  your  never  withering  banks  of  flowers : 
fie  not  with  mortal  accidents  opprest ; 

No  care  of  yours  it  is,  you  know,  'tis  ours. 
Whom  best  I  love,  I  cross;  to  make  my  gift, 

The  more  delay 'd,  delighted6.     Be  content; 
Your  low-laid  son  our  god-head  will  uplift: 

His  comforts  thrive,  his  trials  well  are  spent. 

6  Delighted  for  delightful,  or  causing  delight.    See  vol.  ii.  p.  54, 
note  22. 

128  C^MBELINE.  ACT  V. 

Our  Jovial  star  reign'd  at  his  birth,  and  in 

Our  temple  was  he  married. — Rise,  and  fade  !— 
He  shall  be  lord  of  lady  Imogen, 

And  happier  much  by  his  affliction  made. 
This  tablet  lay  upon  his  breast ;  wherein 

Our  pleasure  his  full  fortune  doth  confine ; 
And  so,  away :  no  further  with  your  din 

Express  impatience,  lest  you  stir  up  mine. — 

Mount,  eagle,  to  my  .palace  crystaline.  [Ascewk. 

Sici.  He  came  in  thunder;  his  celestial  breath 
Was  sulphurous  to  smell :  the  holy  eagle 
Stoop'd,  as  to  foot  usT:  his  ascension  is 
More  sweet  than  our  bless'd  fields;  his  royal  bird 
Prunes  the  immortal  wing,  and  cloys8  his  beak, 
As  when  his  god  is  pleas'd. 

All.  Thanks,  Jupiter ! 

Sici.  The  marble  pavement  closes,  he  is  enter'd 
His  radiant  roof: — Away !  and,  to  be  blest, 
Let  us  with  care  perform  his  great  behest. 

[Ghosts  vanish. 

Post.  [  Waking.]  Sleep,  thou  hast  been  a  grand- 
sire,  and  begot 
A  father  to  me :  and  thou  hast  created 
A  mother  and  two  brothers :  But  (O  scorn !) 
Gone !  they  went  hence  so  soon  as  they  were  born, 
And  so  I  am  awake. — Poor  wretches  that  depend 
On  greatness*  favour,  dream  as  I  have  done ; 
Wake,  and  find  nothing. — But,  alas,  I  swerve : 
Many  dream  not  to  find,  neither  deserve, 
And  yet  are  steep'd  in  favours ;  so  am  I, 
That  have  this  golden  chance,  and  know  not  why. 

7  i.  e.  to  grasp  us  in  his  pounces. 

'  And  till  they  foot  and  clutch  their  prey.' 


8  In  ancient  language  the  cleys  or  ekes  of  a  bird  or  beast  are 
the  same  with  claws  in  modern  speech.  To  claw  their  beaks  is 
an  accustomed  action  with  hawks  and  eagles. 

SC.  IV.  CYMBELINE.  129 

What  fairies  haunt  this  ground?  A  book?  0,rare  one ! 
Be  not,  as  is  our  f angled9  world,  a  garment 
Nobler  than  that  it  covers :  let  thy  effects 
So  follow,  to  be  most  unlike  our  courtiers. 
As  good  as  promise. 

[Reads.]  When  as  a  lion's  whelp  shall,  to  himself 
unknown,  without  seeking  find,  and  be  embraced 
by  a  piece  of  tender  air;  and  when  from  a  stately 
cedar  shall  be  lopped  branches,  which,  being  dead 
many  years,  shall  after  revive,  be  jointed  to  the 
old  stock,  and  freshly  grow ;  then  shall  Posthumus 
end  his  miseries,  Britain  be  fortunate,  and  flourish 
in  peace  and  plenty. 

Tig  still  a  dream ;  or  else  such  stuff  as  madmen 
Tongue,  and  brain  not:  either  both,  or  nothing: 
Or  senseless  speaking,  or  a  speaking  such 
As  sense  cannot  untie.     Be  what  it  is, 
The  action  of  my  life  is  like  it,  which 
111  keep,  if  but  for  sympathy. 

Re-enter  Gaolers. 

Gaol.  Come,  sir,  are  you  ready  for  death  ? 

Post.  Over-roasted  rather :  ready  long  ago. 

Gaol.  Hanging  is  the  word,  sir;  if  you  be  ready 
for  that,  you  are  well  cooked. 

Post.  So,  if  I  prove  a  good  repast  to  the  spec- 
tators, the  dish  pays  the  shot. 

Gaol.  A  heavy  reckoning  for  you,  sir :  But  the 
comfort  is,  you  shall  be  called  to  no  more  pay- 
ments, fear  no  more  tavern  bills;  which  are  often 
the  sadness  of  parting,  as  the  procuring  of  mirth : 
you  come  in  faint  for  want  of  meat,  depart  reeling 
with  too  much  drink ;  sorry  that  you  have  paid  too 

9  i.  $.  trifling.     Hence  new-fangled,  still  Id  use  far  new  toys  or 

130  CYMBEL1NE.  ACT  V. 

much,  and  sorry  that  you  are  paid10  too  much; 
purse  and  brain  both  empty :  the  brain  the  heavier 
for  being  too  light,  the  purse  too  light,  being  drawn 
of  heaviness :  O !  of  this  contradiction  you  shall 
now  be  quit. — O  the  charity  of  a  penny  cord !  it 
sums  up  thousands  in  a  trice:  you  have  no  true 
debitor  and  creditor  but  it ;  of  what's  past,  is,  and 
to  come,  the  discharge : — Your  neck,  sir,  is  pen, 
book,  and  counters ;  so  the  acquittance  follows. 

Post.  I  am  merrier  to  die,  than  thou  art  to  live. 

Gaol.  Indeed,  sir,  he  that  sleeps  feels  not  the 
tooth-ach:  But  a  man  that  were  to  sleep  your 
sleep,  and  a  hangmaa  to  help  him  to  bed,  I  think, 
he  would  change  places  with  his  officer:  for,  look 
you,  sir,  you  know  not  which  way  you  shall  go. 

Post.  Yes,  indeed,  do  I,  fellow. 

Gaol.  Your  death  has  eyes  in's  head  then;  I 
have  not  seen  him  so  pictured :  you  must  either  be 
directed  by  some  that  take  upon  them  to  know;  or 
take  upon  yourself  that,  which  I  am  sure  you  do 
not  know;  or  jump11  the  after-inquiry  on  your  own 
peril:  and  how  you  shall  speed  in  your  journey's 
end,  I  think  you'll  never  return  to  tell  one. 

Post.  I  tell  thee,  fellow,  there  are  none  want 
eyes  to  direct  them  the  way  I  am  going,  but  such 
as  wink,  and  will  not  use  them. 

Gaol.  What  an  infinite  mock  is  this,  that  a  man 
should  have  the  best  use  of  eyes,  to  see  the  way 
of  blindness!  I  am  sure,  hanging's  the  way  of 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Knock  off  his  manacles ;  bring  your  pri- 
soner to  the  king. 

*°  Paid  here  means  subdued  or  overcome  by  the  liquor. 
11  i.  e.  hazard.    See  vol.  iv.  p.  234,  pote  2. 

C.  IV.  CYMBELINE*  131 

Post.  Thou  bringest  good  news;— I  am  called 

me  made  free. 

Gaol.  I'll  be  hanged  then. 

Post.  Thou  shalt  be  then  freer  than  a  gaoler ;  no 

Its  for  the  dead. 

[Exeunt  Posthumus  and  Messenger. 
Gaol.  Unless  a  man  would  marry  a  gallows,  and 
^et  young  gibbets,  I  never  saw  oney  so  prone 12. 
it,  on  my  conscience,  there  are  verier  knaves 
lire  to  live,  for  all  he  be  a  Roman :  and  there  be 
ne  of  them  too,  that  die  against  their  wills ;  so 
mid  I,  if  I  were  one.  I  would  we  were  all  of 
?  mind,  and  one  mind  good;  O,  there  were  deso- 
ion  of  gaolers,  and  gallowses !  I  speak  against 
present  profit;  but  my  wish  hath  a  preferment 
■.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V1.     Cymbeline's  Tent 

ter  Cymbeline,  Belarius,  Guiderius,  Ar* 
tragus,  Pisanio,  Lords,  Officers,  and  Atten- 

Cym.  Stand  by  my  side,  you  whom  the  gods 

have  made 
eservers  of  my  throne.    Woe  is  my  heart, 

1  Prone  here  signifies  ready,  prompt.  As  in  Measure  for 
isure,  Act  i.  Sc.  3,  p.  15  : — 

' in  her  youth 

There  is  a  prone  and  speechless  dialect, 

Such  as  moves  men.' 
is  also  in  Lacan's  Pharsalia,  translated  by  Sir  Arthur  Gorges, 
ri.: — 

f"       ' Thessalian  fierie  steeds, 

For  use  of  war  so  prone  and  fit.' 
1  in  Wilfride  Holme's  poem,  entitled  The  Fall  and  Evil  Sue 
»  of  Rebellion,  &c.  1537  :— 

With  bombard  and  basilisk,  with  men  prone  and  vigorous/ 
•  In  the  scene  before  us,  all  the  surviving  characters  are 
ambled ;  and  at  the  expense  of  whatever  incongruity  the  for- 
r  events  may  have  been  produced,  perhaps  little  c&&\>«  &w 


That  the  poor  soldier,  that  so  richly  fought, 
Whose  rags  sham'd  gilded  arms,  whose  naked  breast 
Stepp'd  before  targe  of  proof,  cannot  be  found: 
He  shall  be  happy  that  can  find  him,  if 
Our  grace  can  make  him  so. 

Bel.  I  never  saw 

Such  noble  fury  in  so  poor  a  thing; 
Such  precious  deeds  in  one  that  promis'd  nought 
But  beggary  and  poor  looks. 

Cym.  No  tidings  of  him  ? 

Pis.  He  hath  been  search'd  among  the  dead  and 
But  no  trace  of  him. 

Cym.  To  my  grief,  I  am 

The  heir  of  his  reward;  which  I  will  add 
To  you,  the  liver,  heart,  and  brain  of  Britain, 

[To  Belarius,  Guiderius,  and  Arv. 
By  whom,  I  grant,  she  lives;  Tis  now  the  time 
To  ask  of  whence  you  are : — report  it. 

Bel.  Sir, 

In  Cambria  are  we  born,  and  gentlemen : 
Further  to  boast,  were  neither  true  nor  modest, 
Unless  I  add,  we  are  honest. 

Cym.  Bow  your  knees : 

Arise,  my  knights  o'  the  battle  2 :  I  create  you 
Companions  to  our  person,  and  will  fit  you 
"With  dignities  becoming  your  estates. 

Enter  Cornelius  and  Ladies. 
There's  business  in  these  faces  3. — Why  so  sadly 

covered  on  this  occasion  to  offend  the  most  scrupulous  advocate 
for  regularity:  and  as  little  is  found  wanting  to  satisfy  the 
spectator  by  a  catastrophe  which  is  intricate  without  confusion, 
and  not  more  rich  in  ornament  than  nature.' — Sieevens. 

?  Thus  in  Stowe's  Chronicle,  p.  164,  edit.  1615  :— '  Philip  of 
France  made  Arthur  Plantagenet  Knight  of  the  Fields.' 

8  So  in  Macbeth : — 

'  The  business  of  Ibis  man  looks  out  of  him.' 

S{*.  V.  CYtoBELINtf.  l3Sf 

ireet  you  out  victory?  you  look  like  Romans,  ' 
ind  not  o9  the  court  of  Britain. 

Cor.  Hail,  great  king ! 

'o  Sour  your  happiness,  I  must  report 
[lie  queen  is  dead. 

Cym.  Whom  worse  than  a  physician 

Youtd  this  report  become  ?  But  I  consider, 
fy  medicine  life  may  be  prolong'd,  yet  death 
TAX  seize  the  doctor  too  *.— How  ended  she  1 

Cor.  With  horror,  madly  dying,  like  her  life ; 
Vhich,  being  cruel  to  the  world,  concluded 
lost  cruel  to  herself.     What  she  confesVd, 
will  report,  so  please  you :  These  her  women 
Jan  trip  me,  if  I  err :  who,  with  wet  cheeks, 
Fere  present  when  she  finish'd. 

Cym.  lYythee,  say. 

Cor.  First,  she  confess'd  she  never  lo  v'd  you ;  only 
iffected  greatness  got  by  you,  not  you: 
larried  your  royalty,  was  wife  to  your  place; 
ibhorr'd  your  person. 

Cym.  She  alone  knew  this: 

md,  but  she  spoke  it  dying,  I  would  not 
Relieve  her  lips  in  opening  it.     Proceed. 

Cor.  Your  daughter,  whom  she  bore  in  hand5  to 
Pith  such  integrity,  she  did  confess 
Fas  ad  a  scorpion  to  her  sight;  whose  life, 
tut  that  her  flight  prevented  it,  she  had 
a'en  off  by  poison. 

Cym.  O  most  delicate  fiend ! 

Fho  is't  cart  read  a  woman? — Is  there  more? 

4  Tbis  observation  bas  already  occurred  in  the  Funeral  Song, 

'  The  sceptre,  learning,  physick,  must 

All  follow  this,  and  come  to  dust.' 
*  '  To  bear  in  band'  is  '  to  delude  by  false  appearances.'    See 
)1.  y.  p.  264,  note  0. 

VOL.  IX.  N 


Cor.  More,  sir,  and  worse.     She  did  confess, 
she  had 
For  you  a  mortal  mineral;  which,  being  took, 
Should  by  the  minute  feed  on  life,  and,  ling'ring, 
By  inches  waste  you :  In  which  time  she  purpos'd, 
By  watching,  weeping,  tendance,  kissing,  to 
O'ercome  you  with  her  show :  yes,  and  in  time 
(When  she  had  fitted  you  with  her  craft),  to  work 
Her  son  into  the  adoption  of  the  crown. 
But  failing  of  her  end  by  his  strange  absence, 
Grew  shameless  desperate;  open'd,  in  despite 
Of  heaven  and  men,  her  purposes ;  repented 
The  evils  she  hatch'd  were  not  effected;  so, 
Despairing,  died. 

Cym.  Heard  you  all  this,  her  women? 

Lady.  We  did,  so  please  your  highness. 

Cym.  Mine  eyes 

Were  not  in  fault,  for  she  was  beautiful ; 
Mine  ears,  that  heard  her  flattery ;  nor  my  heart, 
That  thought  her  like  her  seeming;    it  had  been 

To  have  mistrusted  her:  yet,  O  my  daughter! 
That  it  was  folly  in  me,  thou  may'st  say, 
And  prove  it  in  thy  feeling.     Heaven  mend  all ! 

Enter  Lucius,  Iachimo,  the  Soothsayer,  and 
other  Roman  Prisoners,  guarded;  Posthumus 
behind,  and  Imogen. 

Thou  com'st  not,  Caius,  now  for  tribute;  that 
The  Britons  have  raz'd  out,  though  with  the  loss 
Of  many  a  bold  one ;  whose  kinsmen  haye  made  suit, 
That  their  good  souls  may  be  appeas'd  with  slaughter 
Of  you  their  captives,  which  ourself  have  granted; 
So,  think  of  your  estate. 

Luc.  Consider,  sir,  the  chance  of  war :  the  day 
Was  yours  by  accident;  had  it  gone  with  us, 

SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  135 

We  should  not,  when  the  blood  was  cool,  have 

Our  prisoners  with  the  sword.     But  since  the  gods 
Will  have  it  thus,  that  nothing;  but  our  lives 
May  be  call'd  ransome,  let  it  come :  sufficeth, 
A  Roman  with  a  Roman's  heart  can  suffer: 
Augustus  lives  to  think  on't :  And  so  much 
For  my  peculiar  care.     This  one  thing  only 
I  will  entreat;  My  boy,  a  Briton  born, 
Let  him  be  ransom'd :  never  master  had 
A  page  so  kind,  so  duteous,  diligent, 
So  tender  over  his  occasions,  true, 
So  feat6,  so  nurselike:  let  his  virtue  join 
With  my  request,  which,  I'll  make  bold,  your  high- 
Cannot  deny;  he  hath  done  no  Briton  harm, 
Though  he  have  serv'd  a  Roman:  save  him,  sir, 
4nd  spare  no  blood  beside. 

Cym.  I  have  surely  seen  him : 

His  favour7  is  familiar  to  me.— 
Boy,  thou  hast  look'd  thyself  into  my  grace, 
And  art  mine  own. — I  know  not  why,  nor  wherefore, 
To  say,  live,  boy8:  ne'er  thank  thy  master;  live : 
And  ask  of  Cymbeline  what  boon  thou  wilt, 
Fitting  my  bounty,  and  thy  state,  I'll  give  it ; 
Yea,  though  thou  do  demand  a  prisoner, 
The  noblest  ta'en. 

Imo.  I  humbly  thank  your  highness. 

Luc.  I  do  not  bid  thee  beg  my  life,  good  lad ; 
And  yet,  I  know,  thou  wilt. 

Imo.  No,  no :  alack, 

There's  other  work  in  hand :  I  see  a  thing 
Bitter  to  me  as  death :  your  life,  good  master, 
Must  shuffle  for  itself. 

6  Feat  is  ready,  dexterous.  7  Countenance. 

8  '  I  know  not  what  should  induce  me  to  say,  lire,  boy.'   The 
word  not  was  inserted  by  Rowe. 

190  PYM9EUPE.  ACT  V. 

.    Jjicr  The  boy  disdains  me, . 

He  leaves  me,  scorns  me :  Briefly  die  their  joys, 
That  place  them  on  the  truth  of  girls  and  boys.— 
Why  stands  he  so  perplex'd? 

Cym.  What  would'st  thou,  boy 

I  love  thee  more  and  more;  think  more  and  more 
What's,  best  to  ask.    Rnow'st  him  thou  look'st  on 

Wilt  have  him  live?  Is  he  thy  kin?  thy  friend? 

Imo.  He  is  a  Roman ;  no  more  kin  to  me, 
Than  I  to  your  highness;  who,  being  born  yoi 

Am  something  nearer. 
,    Cym.  Wherefore  ey'st  him  90? 

Imo.  I'll  tell  you,  sir,  in  private,  if  you  please 
To  give  me  hearing. 

Cym.  Ay,  with  all  my  heart, 

And  lend  my  best  attention.     What's  thy  name? 

Imo.  Fidele,  sir. 

Cym.  Thou  art  my  good  youth,  my  pag 

I'll  be  thy  master:  Walk  with  me;  speak  freely. 

[Cymbeline  and  Imogen  converse  apai 

Bel.  Is  not  this  boy  reviv'd  from  death? 

Arv.  One  sand  anoth 

Not  more  resembles:  That  sweet  rosy  lad, 
Who  died,  and  was  Fidele: — What  think  you? 

Gui.  The  same  dead  thing  alive. 

Bel.  Peace,  peace!  see  further;  he  eyes  us  np 
Creatures  may  be  alike :  were't  he,  I  am  sure 
He  would  have  spoke  to  us. 

Gui.  But  we  saw  him  dead. 

Bel.  Be  silent;  let's  see  further. 

Pis.  It  is  my  mistress:  [Ask 

Since  she  is  living,  let  the  time  run  on, 
To  good,  or  bad. 

[CymbeLine  and  Imogen,  eomeforwar 

SC.  V.  CYMBEUNE.  137 

Cym.  Come,  stand  thou  by  our  side ; 

Make  thy  demand  aloud. — Sir,  [To  Iach.]  step 

you  forth ; 
Give  answer  to  this  boy,  and  do  it  freely ; 
Or,  by  our  greatness,  and  the  grace  of  it, 
Which  is  our  honour,  bitter  torture  shall 
Winnow  the  truth  from  falsehood.-— On,  speak  to  him. 
lmo.  My  boon  is,  that  this  gentleman  may  render 
Of  whom  he  had  this  ring. 
Post.  What's  that  to  him  ? 

Cym.  That  diamond  upon  your  finger,  say, 
How  came  it  yours*? 

Iach.  Thou'lt  torture  me  to  leave  unspoken  that 
Which,  to  be  spoke,  would  torture  thee. 
Cym.  How!  me? 

Iach.  I  am  glad  to  be  constrained  to  utter  that  which 
Torments  me  to  conceal.     By  villany 
I  got  this  ring ;  'twas  Leonatus'  jewel : 
Whom  thou  didst  banish;  and  (which  more  may 

grieve  thee, 
As  it  doth  me),  a  nobler  sir  ne'er  liv'd 
Twixt  sky  and  ground.     Wilt  thou  hear  more,  my 
Cym.  All  that  belongs  to  this. 
Iach.  That  paragon,  thy  daughter, — 

For  whom  my  heart  drops  blood,  and  my  false  spirits 
Quail9  to  remember, — Give  me  leave;  I  faint. 
Cym.  My  daughter!  what  of  her?  Renew  thy 
I  had  rather  thou  should'st  live  while  nature  will, 
Than  die  ere  I  hear  more:  strive  man,  and  speak 

Iach.  Upon  a  time  (unhappy  was  the  clock 
That  struck  the  hour !)  it  was  in  Rome  (accurs  d 

9  To  quail  is  to  faint,  or  sink  into  dejection.     See  vol.  vi 
p.  307,  note  5. 

N  2 

9,38  CYMBBLIN3.  ACT  V. 

The  mansion  where !)  'twas  at  a  feast,  (O  'would 
Our  viands  had  been  poison'd !  or,  at  least, 
Those  which  I  heav'd  to  head !)  the  good  Posthumus, 
(What  should  I  say?  he  was  too  good,  to  be 
Where  ill  men  were ;  and  was  the  best  of  all> 
Amongst  the  rar'st  of  good  ones),  sitting  sadly, 
Hearing  us  praise  our  loves  of  Italy 
For  beauty  that  made  barren  the  swelTd  boast 
Of  him  that  best  could  speak :  for  feature10,  laming 
The  shrine  of  Venus*  or  straight-pight  Minerva,. 
Postures  beyond  brief  nature;  for  condition, 
A  shop  of  all  the  qualities  that  man. 
Loves  woman  for;  besides,  that  hook  of  wiving, 
Fairness  which  strikes  the  eye: — - — 

Cym.  I  stand  on  fire*. 

Come  to  the  matter. 

lack.  All  too  soon  I  shall, 

Unless  thou  would'st  grieve  quickly. — This  Pos- 
(Most  like  a  noble  lord  in  love,  and  one 
That  had  a  royal  lover),  took  his  hint; 
And,  not  dispraising  whom,  we  prais'd  (therein. 
He  was.  as  calm  as  virtue),  he  began . 
His  mistress  picture;   which  by  his  tongue  being 

t  l0  Feature  is  here  used  for  proportion.  See  vol.  i.  p.  125, 
note  4 ;  and  Sc.  1,  note  7,  p.  7,  ante : — 

« tbr  feature  laming 

The  shrine  of  Venus  or  straight-pight  Minerva, 

Postures  beyond  brief  nature.' 

i.  e.  the  ancient  statues  of  Venus  and  Minerva,  which  exceeded 
in  beauty  of  exact  proportion  any  living  bodies,  the  work  of 
brief,  i.  e.  of  hasty  and  unelaborate  nature.  So  in  Antony  and 
Cleopatra : — 

*  O'er-picturing  that  Venus,  where  we  see 
'  The  fancy  out-work  nature*.' 

fPight  h  set,  compact :  as  in  the  phrase,  '  a  quarry  and  tocll- 
pight  man/ 

3C.  V.  jCYMREUNE.  139 

\nd  then  a  inind  put  in't,  either  our  brags 
Were  crack'd  of  kitchen  trulls,  or  his  description 
Prov'd  us  unspeaking  sots. 
Cym.  Nay,  nay,  to4  the  purpose* 

loch.  Your  daughter's  chastity — there  it  begins. 
Be  spake  of  her  as  u  Dian  had  hot  dreams, 
And  she  alone  were  cold :  Whereat,  I,  wretch ! 
Made  scruple  of  his  praise ;  and  wager'd  with  him 
Pieces  of  gold,  'gainst  this  which  then  he  wore 
Upon  his  honour'd  finger,  to  attain 
In  suit  the  pla.ce  of  his  bed,  and  win  this  ring 
By  hers  and  mine  adultery :  he,  true  knight, 
No  lesser  of  her  honour  confident 
rhan  £  did  truly  find  her,  stakes  this  ring; 
And  would  so,  had  it  been  a  carbuncle 
Qf  Phoebus'  wheel ;  and  might  so  safely,  had  it 
Been  all  the  worth  of  his  car12.     Away  to  Britain 
Post  I  in  this  design :  We|l  may  you,  sir, 
Remember  me  at  court,  where  I  was  taught 
3f  your  chaste  daughter  the  wide  difference 
Twixt  amorous  and  villanous.  Being  thus  quench'd 
3f  hope,  not  longing,  mine  Italian  brain 
Gan  in  your  duller  Britain  operate 
Most  vilely;  for  my  vantage,  excellent; 
\nd,  to  be  brief,  my  practice  so  prevail'd, 
That  I  return'd  with  similar  proof  enough 
To  make  the  noble  Leonatus  mad, 
By  wounding  his  belief  in  her  renown 
With  tokens  thus,  and  thus ;  averring  notes 13 
3f  chamber-hanging,  pictures,  this  her  bracelet, 
O,  cunning,  how  I!)  nay,  some  marks 

"  As  for  as  if.     So  in  The  Winter's  Tale  :— 

'  — —  he  utters  them  as  he  had  eaten  ballads.' 
13  '  He  had  deserved  it,  were  it  carbuncled 

Like  Phoebus'  car/  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 

13  i.e.  such  marks  of  the  chamber  and  pictures,  as  averred  or 
onfirmed  my  report.^ 


Of  secret  on  her  person,  that  he  could  not 
But.  think  her  bond  of  chastity  quite  crack'd, 
I  having  ta'en  the  forfeit. '.   Whereupon, — 

Methinks,  I  see  him  now, 

.   Pott.  Ay,  so  thou  dost, 

[Coming  forward. 
Italian  fiend ! — Ah  me,  most  credulous  fool, 
Egregious  murderer,  thief,  any  thing 
That's  due  to  all  the  villains  past,  in  being, 
To  come ! — O,  give  me  cord,  or  knife,  or  poison, 
Some  upright  justicer14!  Thou,  king,  send  out 
For  torturers  ingenious :  it  is  I 
That  all  the  abhorred  things  o'the  earth  amend, 
By  being  worse  than  they.     I  am  Posthumus, 
That  kill'd  thy  daughter: — villain  like,. I  lie; 
That  caus'd  a  lesser  villain  than  myself, 
A  sacrilegious  thief,  to  do't : — the  temple 
Of  virtue  was  she;  yea,  and  she  herself15. 
Spit,  and  throw  stones,  cast  mire  upon  me,  set 
The  dogs  o'the  street  to  bay  me:  every  villain 
Be  call'd  Posthumus  Leonat us ;  and 
Be  villany  less  than  'twas ! — O  Imogen ! 
My  queen,  my  life*  my  wife !  O  Imogen, 
Imogen,  Imogen ! 
Imo.  Peace,  my  lord;  hear,  hear— - 

Post.  Shall's  have  a  play  of  this  ?  Thou  scornful 
There  lie  thy  part.  [Striking  her;  she  falls. 

Pis.  O,  gentlemen,  help,  help, 

Mine,  and  your  mistress :— O,  my  Lord  Posthumus! 
You  ne'er  kill'd  Imogen  till  now :— -Help,  help ! — 
Mine  honour'd  lady ! 

14  Justicer  was  anciently  used  instead  of  justice.  Shakspeare 
has  the  word  thrice  in  King  Lear.  And  Warner,  in  his  Albion's 
England,  1602,  b.  x.  ch.  45  :— 

'  Precelling  his  progenitors,  a  justicer  upright.' 

19  '  Not  only  the  temple  of  virtue,  but  virtue  herself.' 

SCV*.  .CYMflBIilNB.  |4t 

Cym.    .  .  Ppes  the  world  go  round? 

.  Post.  How  comes  these  staggers16  on  me?    . 

Pis.  Wake,  my  mistress? 

Cym.  If  this  be  so,  the  gods  do  mean  to  strike  me 
To  death  with  mortal  joy. 

Pis.  How  fares  my  mistress? 

Imo.  Q,  get  thee  from  my  sight; 
Thou  gav'st  me  poison:  dangerous  fellow,  hence! 
preathe  not  where  princes  are. 

Cym.  The  tune  of  Imogen.! 

Pis.  Lady, 
The  gods  throw  stones  of  sulphur  on  me,  if 
That  box  I  gave  you  was  not  thought  by  me         , 
A  precious  thing;  I  had  it  from  the  queen.  . 

Cym.  New  matter  still? 

Into.  It  poison'd  me. 

Cor.  O  gods  f— ^ 

I  left  out  one  thing  which  the  queen  confess'd,  . 
Which  must  approve  thee  honest :  If  Pisanio 
Have,  said  she,  given  his  mistress  that  confectioo , 
Which  I  gave  him  for  a  cordial,  she  is  serv'd 
As  J  would  serve  a  rat. 

Cym.  What's  this,  Cornelius? 

Cor.  The  queen,  sir,  very  oft  importun'd  me 
To  temper17  poisons  for  her;  still  pretending 
The  satisfaction  of  her  knowledge,  only 
In  killing  creatures  vile,  as  cats  and  dogs 
Of  no  esteem :  I,  dreading  that  her  purpose 
Was  of  more  danger,  did  compound  for  her 
A  certain  stuff,  which,  being  ta'en,  would  cease 
The  present  power  of  life;  but,  in  short  time, 
All  offices  of  nature  should  again 
Do  their  due  functions. — Have  you  ta'en  of  it? 

16  i.  e.  this  wild  and  delirious  perturbation.  It  is  still  com* 
mon  to  say  '  it  stagger' d  me/  when  we  have  been  moved  by  any 
sadden  emotion  of  surprise.     See  vol.  iii.  p.  262,  note  22. 

17  Mix,  compound. 


Imo.  Most  like  I  did,  for  I  was  dead. 

Bel.  My  boys, 

There  was  our  error. 

Gui.  This  is  sure,  Fidele. 

Imo.  Why  did  you  throw  your  wedded  lady  from 
you  ? 
Think,  that  you  are  upon  a  rock;  and  now 
Throw  me  again18.  [Embracing  him. 

Post.  Hang  there  like  fruit,  my  soul, 

Till  the  tree  die ! 

Cym.  .  How  now,  my  flesh,  my  child? 

What,  mak'st  thou  me  a  dullard  in  this  act? 
Wilt  thou  not  speak  to  me? 

Imo.  Your  blessing,  sir, 


Bel.  Though  you  did  love  this  youth,I  blame  ye  not; 
You  had  a  motive  for't.  [To  Gui.  and  Arv. 

Cym.  My  tears  that  fail, 

Prove  holy  water  on  thee !  Imogen, 
Thy  mother's  dead. 

Imo.  I  am  sorry  for't,  my  lord. 

Cym.  O,  she  was  naught;  and  'long  of  her  it  was, 
That  we  meet  here  so  strangely :  But  her  son 
Is  gone,  we  know  not  how,  nor  where. 

18  Imogen  comes  up  to  Posthumus  as  soon  as  she  knows  that  the 
error  is  cleared  op ;  and,  hanging  fondly  on  him,  says,  not  as  up- 
braiding him,  but  with  kindness  and  good  humour, '  How  could 
you  treat  your  wife  thus  V  in  that  endearing  tone  which  most 
readers,  who  are  fathers  and  husbands,  will  understand  who  will 
add  poor  to  wife.  She  then  adds,  Now  you  know  who  I  am, 
suppose  we  were  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  and  throw  me  from 
you ;  meaning,  in  the  same  endearing  irony,  to  say,  I  am  sure  it 
is  as  impossible  for  you  to  be  intentionally  unkind  to  me,  as  it  is 
for  you  to  kjill  me.  Perhaps  some  very  wise  persons  may  smile  at 
part  of  this  note ;  but  however  much  black-letter  books  maybe 
necessary  to  elucidate  some  parts  of  Shakspeare,  there  are  others 
which  require  some  acquaintance  with  those  familiar  pages  of 
the  book  of  Nature; 

*  Which  learning  may  not  understand, 

And  wisdom  may  disdain  to  hear.'  Pye. 

SC.  V.  *  CYMBELINEt  14S 

Pis.  My  lord, 

Now  fear  is  from  me,  I'll  speak  troth.  Lord  Cloten, 
Upon  my  lady's  missing,  came  to  me 
With  his  sword  drawn;  foam'd  at  the  mouth,  and 

If  I  discovered  not  which  way  she  was  gone, 
It  was  my  instant  death:  By  accident, 
I  had  a  feigned  letter  of  my  master's 
Then  in  my  pocket;  which  directed  him 
To  seek  her  on  the  mountains  near  to  Milford ; 
Where,  in  a  frenzy,  in  my  master's  garments, 
Which  he  inforc'd  from  me,  away  he  posts 
With  unchaste  purpose,  and  with  oath  to  violate 
My  lady's  honour :  what  became  of  him, 
I  further  know  not. 

Ghii.  Let  me  end  the  story : 

I  slew  him  there. 

Cym.  Marry,  the  gods  forefend ! 

I  would  not  thy  good  deeds  should  from  my  lips 
Pluck  a  hard  sentence :  pr'ythee,  valiant  youth, 
Deny't  again. 

Gui.  I  have  spoke  it,  and  I  did  it. 

Cym.  He  was  a  prince. 

Gui.  A  most  uncivil  one:  The  wrongs  he  did  me 
>Fere  nothing  princelike ;  for  he  did  provoke  me 
iyith  language  that  would  make  me  spurn  the  sea, 
fit  could  roar  so  to  me :  I  cut  off's  head; 
^nd  am  right  glad,  he  is  not  standing  here 
?o  tell  this  tale  of  mine. 

Cym.  I  am  sorry  for  thee : ' 

?y  thine  own  tongue  thou  art  cbndemn'd,  and  must 
fadure  our  law :  Thou  art  dead. 

Imo.  That  headless  man 

thought  had  been  my  lord. 

Cym.  Bind  the  offender, 

knd  take  him  from  our  presence. 

144  CYMBBLItfE.  ACT  v3 

Bel.  Stay,  sir  king: 

This  man  is  better  than  the  man  he  slew, 
As  well  descended  as  thyself;  and  hath 
More  of  thee  merited,  than  a  band  of  Clotens 
Had  ever  scar  for. — Let  his  arms  alone, ; 

[To  the  Guard. 
They  were  not  born  for  bondage. 

Cym.  Why,  old  soldier* 

Wilt  thou  undo  the  worth  thou  art  unpaid  for, 
By  tasting  of  our  wrath 19?  How  of  descent 
As  good  as  we? 

Arv.  In  that  he  spake  too  far. 

Cym.  And  thou  shalt  die  for't. 

Bel.  We  will  die  all  three: 

But  I  will  prove,  that  two  of  us  are  as  good 
As  I  have  given  out  him.— My  sons,  I  must, 
For  mine  own  part,  unfold  a  dangerous  speech, 
Though,  haply,  well  for  you* 

Arv.  Your  danger  is 


Gut.  And  our  good  his. 

Bel,  Have  at  it  then. — 

By  leave ; — Thou  hadst,  great  king,  a  subject,  who 
Was  call'd  Belarius. 

Cym.  What  of  him?  he  \s 

A  banish'd  traitor. 

Bel.  He  it  is,  that  hath 

Assum'd  this  age*9:  indeed,  a  banish'd  man"; 
I  know  not  how,  a  traitor.  • 

Cym.  Take  him  hence ; 

The  whole  world  shall  not  save  him. 

19  The  consequence  is  taken  for  the  whole  action  ;  by  lasting 
is  by  forcing  us  to  make  thee  to  taste. 

30  As  there  is  no  reason  to  imagine  that  Belarius  bad  assumed 
the  appearance  of  being -older  than  he  really  was,  it  must  have  a 
reference  to  the  different  appearance  which  he  now  makes  in 
comparison  with  that  when  Cymbeline  last  saw  btm. 

St.  V.  CYMBEUNE.  144 

BeL  Not  too  hot: 

First  pay  me  for  the  nursing  of  thy  sons ; 
And  let  it  be  confiscate  all,  so  soon 
As  I  hare  receiv'd  it. 

Cym.  Nursing  of  my  sons  ? 

BeL  I  am  too  blunt  and  saucy :  Here's  my  knee ; 
Ere  I^urise,  I  will  prefer  my  sons; 
Then,  spare  not  the  old  father.     Mighty  sir. 
These  two  young  gentlemen,  that  call  me  father, 
And  think  they  are  my  sons,  are  none  of  mine ; 
They  are  the  issue  of  your  loins,  my  liege, 
And  blood  of  your  begetting. 

Gym.  How!  my  issue? 

BeL  So  sure  as  you  your  father's.  I,  old  Morgan, 
Am  that  Belarius  whom  you  sometime  banish'd : 
Your  pleasure  was  my  mere  offence21,  my  punish- 
Itself,  and  all  my  treason ;  that  I  suffer'd, 
Was  all  the  harm  I  did.     These  gentle  princes 
(For  such,  and  so  they  are)  these  twenty  years 
Have  I  train'd  up :  those  arts  they  have,  as  I 
Could  put  into  them;  my  breeding  was,  sir,  as 
Your  highness  knows.    Their  nurse,  Euriphile, 
Whom  for  the  theft  1  wedded,  stole  these  children 
Upon  my  banishment:  I  mov'd  her  to't; 
Having  receiv'd  the  punishment  before, 
For  that  which  I  did  then :  Beaten  for  loyalty 
Excited. me  to  treason :  Their  dear  loss, 
The  more  of  you  'twas  felt,  the  more  it  shap'd 
Unto  my  end  of  stealing  them.     But,  gracious  sir, 
Here  are  your  sons  again;  and  I  must  lose 
Two  of  the  sweet'st  companions  in  the  world: — 

91  The  old  copy  reads  '  neere  offence ;'  the  emendation  is  by 
Mr.  Tyrwhitt.  Belarius  means  to  say  '  My  crime,  my  punish- 
ment, and  all  the  treason  that  I  committed,  originated  in,  and 
were  founded  on,  your  .caprice  pnly.' 

VOL.  IX.  O 


The  benediction  of  these  covering  heavens 

Fall  on  their  beads  like  dew!  for  they  are  worthy 

To  inlay  heaven  with  stars **. 

Cym.  Thou  weep'st,  and  speak'st23. 

The  service,  that  you  three  have  done,  is  more 
Unlike  than  this  thou  telTst :  I  lost  my  children ; 
If  these  be  they,  I  know  not  how  to  wish 
A  pair  of  worthier  sons. 

Bel.  Be  pleas'd  a  while.—1 

This  gentleman,  whom  I  call  Polydore, 
Most  worthy  prince,  as  yours,  is  true  Guiderius; 
This  gentleman,  my  Cadwal,  Arviragus, 
Your  younger  princely  son ;  he,  sir,  was  lapp'd 
In  a  most  curious  mantle,  wrought  by  the  hand 
Of  his  queen  mother,  which,  for  more  probation, 
I  can  with  ease  produce. 

Cym.  Guiderius  had 

Upon  bis  neck  a  mole,  a  sanguine  star : 
It  was  a  mark  of  wonder. 

Bel.  This  is  he ; 

Who  hath  upon  him  still  that  natural  stamp; 
It  was  wise  nature's  end  in  the  donation, 
To  be  his  evidence  now. 

Cym.  O,  what  am  I 

A  mother  to  the  birth  of  three?  Ne'er  mother 
Rejoic'd  deliverance  more : — Bless'd  may  you  be, 
That  after  this  strange  starting  from  your  orbg, 
You1  may  reign  in  them  now ! — O  Imogen, 
Thou  hast  lost  by  this  a  kingdom. 

Imo.  No,  my  lord ; 

22        '  Take  him  and  cut  him  into  little  stars, 

And  he  will  make  the  face  of  heaven  so  fine/  &c. 

Romeo  and  Juliet. 

33  '  Thy  tears  give  testimony  to  the  sincerity  of  thy  relation ; 

and  I  hare  the  less  reason  to  be  incredulous,  because  the  actions 

which  yon  have  done  within  my  knowledge  are  more  incredible 

than  the  story  which  you  relate.'  The  king  reasons  very  justly. 


SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  14t 

I  have  got  two  worlds  by't. — O  my  gentle  brother, 
Have  we  thus  met?  O  never  say  hereafter, 
But  I  am  truest  speaker :  you  calPd  me  brother. 
When  I  was  but  your  sister;  I  you  brothers, 
When  you  were  so  indeed. 

Cym.  ,     Did  you  e'er  meet? 

Arv.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Gui.  And  at  first  meeting  lov'd ; 

Continued  so,  until  we  thought  he  died. 

Cor.  By  the  queen's  dram  she  swallow'd. 

Cym.  O  rare  instinct  I 

If  hen  shall  I  hear  all  through?  This  fierce24  abridg- 
Hath  to  it  circumstantial  branches,  which 
Distinction  should  be  rich  in25. — Where?  how  liv'd 

And  when  came  you  to  serve  our  Roman  captive? 
How  parted  with  your  brothers  ?  how  first  met  them  ? 
Why  fled  you  from  the  court?  and  whither?  These, 
And  your  three  motives26. to  the  battle,  with 
I  know  not  how  much  more,  should  be  demanded ; 
And  all  the  other  by-dependancies, 
From  chance  to  chance ;  but  nor  the  time,  nor  place, 
Will  serve  our  long  intergatories  27.     See, 
Posthumus  anchors  upon  Imogen; 
And  she,  like  harmless  lightning,  throws  her  eye 

**  Fierce  is  vehement,  rapid. 

25  i.  e.  whioh  ought  to  be  rendered  distinct  by  an  ample  narra- 

*  '  Your  three  motives'  means '  the  motives  of  you  three.'  So 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  *  both  our  remedies '  means  '  the  remedy 
for  us  both.' 

97  Intergatories  was  frequently  used  for  interrogatories,  and 
consequently  as  a  word  of  only  five  syllables.  See  vol.  iji.  p.  306, 
note  17.  •  Thus  in  Novella,  by  Brome,  Act  ii.  Sc.  1 : — 

' Then  you  must  answer 

To  these  intergatories* 
In  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  near  the   end,  it  is  also  thus 

'  And  charge  as  there  upon  Mttergatories* 


On  him,  her  brothers,  rae,  her  master;  hitting 
Each  object  with  a  joy ;  the  counterchange 
Is  severally  in  all.     Let's  quit  this  ground, 
And  smoke  the  temple  with  our  sacrifices. — 
Thou  art  my  brother ;  So  we'U  hold  thee  ever. 

[  To  Belarius. 

Imo.  You  are  my  father  too ;  and  did  relieve  me, 
To  see  this  gracious  season. 

Cym.  All  o'erjoy'd 

Save  these  in  bonds;  let  them,  be  joyful  too, 
For  they  shall  taste  our  comfort. 

Imo.  My  good  master, 

I  will  yet  do  you  service. 

Luc.  Happy  be  you ! 

Cym.  The  forlorn  soldier,  that  so  nobly  fought, 
He  would  have  well  becom'd  this  place,  and  grac'd 
The  thankings  of  a  king. 

Post.  I  am,  sir, 

The  soldier  that  did  company  these  three 
In  poor  beseeming ;  'twas  a  fitment  for 
The  purpose  I  then  folio  w'd ;— That  I  was  he, 
Speak,  Iachimo ;  I  had  you  down,  and  might 
Have  made  you  finish. 

lack.  I  am  down  again:  [Kiieeling. 

But  now  my  heavy  conscience  sinks  my  knee, 
As  then  your  force  did.  Take  that  life,  'beseech  you. 
Which  I  so  often  owe :  but,  your  ring  first ; 
And  here  the  bracelet  of  the  truest  princess, 
That  ever  swore  her  faith. 

Post.  Kneel  not  to  me ; 

The  power  that  I  have  on  you,  is  to  spare  you; 
The  malice  towards  you,  to  forgive  you :  Live, 
And  deal  with  others  better. 

Cym.  Nobly  doom'd: 

We'll  learn  our  freeness  of  a  son-in-law ; 
Pardon's  the  word  to  all. 

Arv.  You  holp  us,  sir, 

5C.  V.  CYMBBLINE.  140 

s  you  did  mean  indeed  to  be  our  brother; 

>y*d  are  we,  that  you  are. 

Post.  Your  servant,  princes. — Good  my  lord  of 

ill  forth  your  soothsayer :  As  I  slept,  methought, 
eat  Jupiter,  upon  his  eagle  back, 
)pear'd  to  me,  with  other  spritely  shows28 
mine  own  kindred :  when  I  wak'd,  I  found 
is  label  on  my  bosom ;  whose  containing 
so  from  sense  in  hardness,  that  I  can 
ike  no  collection  29  of  it ;  let  him  show 
s  skill  in  the  construction. 

Luc.  Philarmonus, 

Sooth.  Here,  my  good  lord. 
Luc.  Read,  and  declare  the  meaning. 

Sooth.  [Reads.]  When  as  a  lion's  whelp  shall,  to 
tself  unknown,  without  seeking  find,  and  he  em- 
iced  by  a  piece  of  tender  air;  and  when  from  a 
tely  cedar  shall  be  lopped  brandies,  which,  being 
id  many  years  shall  after  revive,  be  jointed  to  the 
!  stock,  and  freshly  grow;  then  shall  Posthumus 
I  his  miseries,  Britain  be  fortunate,  and  flourish  in 
ice  and  plenty. 

ou,  Leonatus,  art  the  lion's  whelp ; 
e  fit  and  apt  construction  of  thy  name, 
tng  Leo-natus,  doth  import  so  much : 

9  Spritely  shows  are  groups  of  sprites,  ghostly  appearances. 
9  A  collection  is  a  corollary,  a  consequence  deduced  from 
mises.    So  in  Davies's  poem  on  The  Immortality  of  the 

*  When  she  from  sundry  arts  one  skill  doth  draw ; 

Gathering  from  divers  sights  one  act  of  war ; 
From  many  cases  like  one  rule  of  law : 

These  her  collections,  not  the  senses  are.'  * 
the  Queen  in  Hamlet  says : — 

' Her  speech  is  nothing, 

Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 

The  hearers  to  collection.' 
ose  containing  means  the  contents  of  which. 



The  piece  of  tender,  air,  thy  virtuous  daughter, 

[To  Cymbeline..  j 
Which  we  call  mollis  aer ;  and  mollis  aer  \ 

We  term  it  mulier:  which  mulier  I  divine.  I 

Is  this  most  constant  wife :  who,  even  now,  i 

Answering  the  letter  of  the  oracle, 
Unknown  to  you,  unsought,  were  clipp'd  about 
With  this  most  tender  air. 

Cym.  This  hath  some  seeming. 

Sooth.  The  lofty  cedar,  royal  Cymbeline,. 
Personates  thee :  and  thy  lopp'd  branches  point 
Thy  two  sons  forth:  who,  by  Belarius  stolen,. 
For  many  years  thought  dead,  are  now  reviv'd, 
To  the  majestic  cedar  join'd ;  whose,  issue 
Promises  Britain  peace  and  plenty. 

Cym.  Well, 

My  peace  we  will  begin30: — And,  Caius  Lucius, 
Although  the  victor,  we  submit  to  Caesar, 
And  to  the  Roman  empire ;  promising 
To  pay  our  wonted  tribute,  from  the  which 
We  were  dissuaded  by  our  wicked  queen; 
Whom  heavens,  injustice  (both  on  her  and  hers), 
Have  laid  most  heavy  hand  31. 

Sooth.  The  fingers  of  the  powers  above  do  tune 
The  harmony  of  this  peace.    The  vision 
Which  I  made  known  to  Lucius,  ere  the  stroke 
Of  this  yet  scarce-cold  battle,  at  this  instant 

90  It  should  apparently  be,  '  By  peace  we  will  begin/  The 
Soothsayer  says,  thai  the  label  promised  to  Britain  'peace  and 
plenty.'  To  which  Cymbeline  replies,  '  We  will  begin  with 
peace,  to  fulfil  the  prophecy/ 

31  i.  e.  have  laid  most  heavy  hand  on.  Many  such  elliptical 
passages  are  found  in  Shakspeare.  Thus  in  The  Rape  of  La- 
crece : — 

'  Only  he  hath  an  eye  to  gaze  on  beauty, 

And  dotes  on  whom  he. looks  [on]  gainst  law  and  duty/ 

So  in  The  Winter's  Tale  :— 

.' The  queen  is  spotless  .  ,< 

In  that  tckickyou.  accuse  to  ^ofV 

SC.  V.  CYMBELINE.  151: 

8  full  accomplish^ :  For  the  Roman  eagle, 
torn  south  to  west  on  wing  soaring  aloft, 
•essen'd  herself,  and  in  the  beams  o'the  sun 
o  vanished  :  which  foreshowed  our  princely  eagle, 
'he  imperial  Caesar,  should  again  unite 
[is  favour  with  the  radiant  Cymbeline, 
Phich  shines  here  in  the  west. 
Cym.  Laud  we  the  gods; 

Lnd  let  our  crooked  smokes  climb  to  their  nostrils 
rom  our  bless'd  altars !  Publish  we  this  peace, 
o  all  our  subjects.     Set  we  forward:  Let 
,  Roman  and  a  British  ensign  wave 
riendly  together :  so  through  Lud's  town  march  : 
ind  in  the  temple  of  great  Jupiter 
»ur  peace  we'll  ratify ;  seal  it  with  feasts. — 
et  on  there  : — Never  was  a  war  did  cease, 
Ire  bloody  hands  were  wash'd,  with  such  a  peace. 


his  pi  a  j  has  many  just  sentiments,  some  natural  dialogues,  and 
Mne  pleasing  scenes,  but  they  are  obtained  at  tbe  expense  of 
inch  incongruity.  To  remark  the  folly  of  tbe  fiction,  the  ab- 
lrdity  of  the  conduct,  the  confusion  of  the  names  and  manners 
f  different  times,  and  tjje  impossibility  of  the  events  in  any 
rstem  of  life,  were  to  waste  criticism  upon  unresisting  imbe- 
ility,  upon  fa  alts  too  evident  for  detection,  and  too  gross  for 
ggravation  *.  Joh  nson. 

*  Johnson's  remark  on  the  gross  incongruity  of  names  and 
anners  in  this  play  is  just,  but  it  was  the  common  error  of  the 
je ;  in  The  Wife  for  a  Month,  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  we 
ive  Frederick  and  Alphonso  among  a  host  of  Greek  names,  not 
mention  the  firing  of  a  pistol  by  Demetrius  Poliocortes  in  The 
amorous  Lieutenant.     Pye. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  the  extreme  injustice  of  the 
ifounded  severity  of  Johnson's  animadversions  upon  this  ex- 
lisite  drama.  The  antidote  will  be  found  in  the  reader's  appeal 
his  own  feelings  after  reiterated  perusal.  It  is  with  satisfao- 
>n  I  refer  to  the  more  just  and  discriminative  opinion  of  a  foreign 
itic,  to  whom  every  lover  of  Shakspeare  is  deeply  indebted, 
ted  in  the  preliminary  remarks.  S.  W,  S, 






To  fair  Fidele's  grassy  tomb. 

Soft  maids  and  village  hinds  shall  bring 
Each  opening  sweet,  of  earliest  bloom, 

And  rifle  all  the  breathing  spring. 

No  wailing  ghost  shall  dare  appear 
To  vex  with  shrieks  this  quiet  grove; 

But  shepherd  lads  assemble  here, 
And  melting  virgins  own  their  love. 

No  withered  witch  shall  here  be  seen, 
No  goblins  lead  their  nightly  crew: 

The  female  fays  shall  haunt  the  green, 
And  dress  thy  grave  with  pearly  dew. 

The  redbreast  oft  at  evening  hours 
■  Shall  kindly  lend  his  little  aid, 
With  hoary  moss,  and  gather* d flowers, 
To  deck  the  ground  where  thou  art  laid. 

When  howling  winds,  and  beating  rain, 
In  tempests  shake  the  sylvan  cell; 

Or  midst  the  chase  on  every  plain, 
The  tender  thought  on  thee  shall  dwell. 

Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore; 

For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed; 
Belov'd  till  life  could  charm  no  more; 

And  mourn 'd  till  pity's  self  be  dead. 



Situ*  &tUmmtM0+ 


UN.  what  principle  the  editors  of  the  first  complete  edition  of 
Shakspeare's  works  admitted  this  play  into  their  volume  cannot 
Bow  be  ascertained.  The  most  probable  reason  that  can  be 
assigned  is,  that  he  wrote  a  few  lines  in  it,  or  gave  some  assist- 
•nee  to  the  author  in  revising  it,  or  in  some  way  or  other  aided 
ia  bringing  it  forward  on  the  stage.  The  tradition  mentioned 
by  Ravenscroft,  in  the  time  of  King  James  II.,  warrants  ns  in 
making  one  or  other  of  these  suppositions.  '  I  have  been  told 
(says  he,  in  his  preface  to  an  alteration  of  this  play,  published 
in  1687),  by  some  anciently  conversant  with  the  stage,  that  it 
was  not  originally  his,  but  brought  by  a  private  author  to  be 
toted,  and  he  only  gave  some  master  touches  to  one  or  two  of 
tie  principal  parts/ 

'  A  booke,  entitled  A  Noble  Roman  Historic  of  Titus  Andro- 
gens,' was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  by  JohaDanter,  Feb.  6, 
1593-4.     This  was  undoubtedly  the  play,  as  it  was  printed  in 
that  year  (according  to  Langbaine,.  who  alone  appears  to  have 
teen  the  first  edition),  and  acted  by  the  servants  of  the  Earls  of 
Pembroke,  Derby,  and  Sussex.    It  is  observable  that  in  the 
entry  no  author's  name,  is  mentioned,  and  that  the  play  was  ori- 
ginally performed  by  the  same  company  of  comedians  who  exhi- 
bited the  old  drama,  entitled  The  Contention  of  the  Houses  of 
Vorke  and  Lancaster,  The  old  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  and  Marlowe's 
King  Edward  II.;  by  whom  not  one  of  Shakspeare's  plays  is 
aaid  to  have  been  performed. 

From  Ben  Jonson's  Induction  to  Bartholomew  Fair,  1614,  we 
learn  that  Andronipus. had  been  .exhibited  twenly-five.  or  thirty 


jean  before ;  that  is,  according  to  the  lowest  computation,  in 
1589;  or,  taking  a  middle  period,  which  is  perhaps  more  just, 
in  1587. 

'  To  enter  into  a  long  disquisition  to  prove  this  piece  not  to 
have  been  written  bj  Shakspeare  would  be  an  idle  waste  of 
time.    To  those  who  are  not  conversant  .with  his  writings,  if 
particular  passages  were  examined,  more  words  would  be  neces- 
sary than  the  subject  is  worth ;  those  who  are  well  acquainted 
with  his  works  cannot  entertain  a  doubt  on  the  question.  I  will, 
however,  mention  one  mode  by  which  it  may  be  easily  ascer- 
tained.   Let  the  reader  only  peruse  a  few  lines*  of  Appius  and 
Virginia,  Tancred  and  Gismund,  The  Battle  of  Alcazar,  Jero- 
njmo,  Selimus  Emperor  of  the  Turks,  The  Wounds  of  Civil 
War,  The  Wars  of  Cyrus,  Locrine,  Arden  of  Feversham,  King 
Edward  I.,  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  Solyman  and  Perseda,  King 
Leir,  The  old  King  John,  or  any  other  of  the  pieces  that  were 
exhibited  before  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  and  he  will  at  once 
perceive  that  Titus  Andronicus  was  coined  in  the  same  mint. 

'  The  testimony  of  Meres  [who  attributes  it  to  Shakspeare  in 
his  Palladia  Tamja,  or  the  Seoond  Part  of  Wits  Common  Wealth, 
1598],  remains  to  be  considered.  His  enumerating  this  among 
Shakspeare'*  plays  may  be  accounted  for  in  the  same  way  in 
which  we  may  account  for  its  being  printed  by  his  fellow  come- 
dians in  the  first  folio  edition  of  his  works.  Meres  was,  in  1598, 
when  his  book  first  appeared,  intimately  connected  with  Draj- 
ton,  and.  probably  acquainted  with  some  of  the  dramatic  poets 
of  the  time,  from  some  or  other  of  whom  he  might  have  heard 
that  Shakspeare  interested  himself  about  this  tragedy,  or  had 
written  a  few  lines  for  the  author.  The  internal  evidence  fur- 
nished by  the  piece  itself,  and  proving  it  not  to  have  been  the 
production  of  Shakspeare,  greatly  outweighs  any  single  testi- 
mony on  the  other  side.  Meres  might  have  been  misinformed, 
or  inconsiderately  have  given  credit  to  the  rumour  of  the  day. 
In  short,  the  high  antiquity  of  the  piece,  its  entry  on  the  Sta- 
tioners' books,  and  being  afterwards  printed  without  the  name 
of  Shakspeare,  its  being  performed  by  the  servants  of  Lord 
Pembroke,  &c;  the  stately  march  of  the  versification,  the  whole 
colour  of  the  composition,  its  resemblance  to  several  of  our 
most  ancient  dramas,  the  dissimilitude  of  the  style  from  our 


•amor's  undoubted  plays,  and  the  tradition  mentioned  by  Ra- 
Teoseroft  when  some  of  his  contemporaries  had  not  long  been 
dead  (for  Lowin  and  Taylor,  two  of  his  fellow  comedians,  were 
alire  a  few  years  before  the  Restoration,  and  Sir  Wm*  Davenant 
did  not  die  till  April,  1668) ;  all  these  circumstances  combined, 
prove  with  irresistible  force  that  the  play  of  Titos  Andronicns 
has  been  erroneously  ascribed  to  SbakspeareV-— Maloke. 

'  Mr.  Malone,  in  the  preceding  note,  has  expressed  his  opi- 
nion that  Shakspeare  may  have  written  a  few  lines  in  this  play, 
or  given  some  assistance  to  the  author  in  rerising  it    Upon  no 
other  ground  than  this  has  it  any  claim  to  a  place  among  our 
poet's  dramas :  Those  passages  in  which  he  supposed  the  hand 
of  Shakspeare  may  be  traced,  he  marked  with  inverted  commas. 
This  system  of  seizing  upon  every  line  possessed  of  merit,  as 
belonging  of  right  to  our  great  dramatist,  is  scarcely  doing  jus- 
tice to  his  contemporaries ;  and  resembles  one  of  the  argument* 
which  Theobald  has  used  in  his  preface  to  The  Double  False* 
hood:—"  My  partiality  for  Shakspeare  makes  me  wish  that 
every  thing  which  is  good  or  pleasing  in  our  tongue  had  been 
owing  to  his  pen."    Many  of  the  writers  of  that  day  were  men 
of  high  poetioal  talent ;  and  many  individual  speeches  are  found 
in  plays,  which,  as  plays,  are  of  no  value,  which  would  not  have 
been  in  any  way  unworthy  of  Shakspeare  himself;  of  whom, 
Dr.  Johnson  has  observed,  that  "  his  real  power  is  not  shown  in 
the  splendour  of  particular  passages,  but  by  the  progress  of  the 
fable  and  the  tenour  of  his  dialogue ;  and  that  he  that  tries  to 
recommend  him  by  select  quotations  will  succeed  Jike  the  pe- 
dant in  Hierocles,  who,  when  he  offered  his  house  to  sale, 
carried  a  brick  in  his  pocket  as  a  specimen.'*     Dr.  Farmer  has 
ascribed  Titus  Andronicns  to  Kyd,  and  placed  it  on  a  level  with 
Locrine ;  but  it  appears  to  be  much  more  in  the  style  of  Mar- 
lowe.   His  fondness  for  accumulating  horrors  upon  Other  occa- 
sions will  account  for  the  sanguinary  character  of  this  play  J 
and  it  would  not,  I  think,  be  difficult  to  show  by  extracts  from 
his  other  performances,  that  there  is  not  a  line  in  it  which  he 
was  not  fully  capable  of  writing.' — Boswell. 

'  The  author,  whoever  he  was,  might  have  borrowed  the  story, 
&c.  from  an  old  ballad  which  is  entered  in,  the  books  of  the  Stat 
tioners'  Company  immediately  after,  the  play  to  John  Danter, 


Feb.  0,  159$:  and  again  entered  to  Tbo.  Pavyer,  April  t9; 
1602.  The  reader,  will  find  it  in  Dr.  Percy's  Reliques  of  Aft* 
cient  English  Poetry,  vol.  i.  Painter,  in  his  Palace  of  Pleasure, 
torn.  ii.  speaks  of  the  story  of  Titos  as  well  known,  and  parti- 
cularly mentions  the  cruelty  of  Tamora.  And  there  is  an  allu- 
sion to  it  in  A  Knack  to  Know  a  Knave,  1594. 

'  I  have  given  the  reader  a  specimen  (in  the  notes)  of  the 
changes  made  in  this  play  by  Ravenscroft;  and  may  add,  that 
when  the  Empress  stabs  her  child,  he  has  supplied  the  Moor 
with  the  following  lines :—  ' 

"  She  has  outdone  me,  ev'n  in  mine  own  art, 
Outdone  me  in  murder,  kill'd  her  own  child ; 
Give  it  me,  I'll  eat  it." 

'It  rarely  happens  that  a  dramatic  piece  is  altered  with  the 
same  spirit  that  it  was  written;  butTitns  Andronicus  has  xm- 
doubtedly  fallen  into  the  hands  of  one  whose  feelings  and  ima- 
gination were  congenial  with  those  of  the  author. 

'  It  was  evidently  the  work  of  one  who  was  acquainted  with 
Greek  and  Roman  literature.  It  is  likewise  deficient  in  such 
internal  marks  as  distinguish  the  tragedies  of  Shakspeare  from 
those  of  other  writers ;  I  mean  that  it  presents  no  struggles  to 
introduce  the  vein  of  humour  so  constantly  interwoven  with  the 
business  of  his  serious  dramas.  It  can  neither  boast  of  his 
striking  excellencies,  nor  of  his  acknowledged  defects ;  for  if 
offers  not  a  single  interesting  situation,  a  natural  character,  or 
a  string  of  quibbles,  from  first  to  last.  That  Shakspeare  should 
have  written  without  commanding  our  attention,  moving  oar 
passions,  or  sporting  with  words,  appears  to  me  as  improbable 
as  that  he  should  have  studiously  avoided  dissyllable  and  trisyl- 
lable terminations  in  this  play  and  in  no  other. 

'  Let  it  be  likewise  remembered  that  this  piece  was  not  pub- 
lished with  the  name  of  Shakspeare  till  after  his  death*  The 
quartos  [of  1600]  and  1611  are  anonymous. 

'Could  the  use  of  particular  terms,  employed  in  no  other  of 
his  pieces,  be  admitted  as  an  argument  that  he  was  not  its' 
author,  more  than  one  of  these,  might  be  found ;  among'  which 
is  pa&ament  for  robe,  a  Latinism,  which  I  have  not  met  with 
elsewhere  in  any  English  writer,  whether  ancient  or  modern) 


gh  it  most  have  originated  from  the  mint  of  a  scholar.  I 
add,  that  Titus  Andronicus  will  be  found  on  examination  to 
tin  a  greater  number  of  classical  allusions,  &c.  than  are 
tered  over  all  the  rest  of  the  performances  qn  which  the 
of  Shakspeare  is  indubitably  fixed. — Not  to  write  any  more 
t  and  about  this  suspected  thing,  let  me  observe  that  the 
er  of  a  few  passages  in  it  has,  perhaps,  misled  the  judgment 
lose  who  ought  to  hare  known  that  both  sentiment  and  do- 
ption  are  more  easily  produced  than  the  interesting  fabrick 
tragedy.  Without  these  advantages  many  plays  have  suo- 
led;  and  many" have  failed,  in  which  they  have  been  dealt 
it  with  lavish  profusion.  It  does  not  follow  that  he  who 
carve  a  frieze  with  minuteness,  elegance,  and  ease,  has  a. 
seption  equal  to  the  extent,  propriety,  and  grandeur  of  a 

Whatever  were  the  motives  of  Heming  and  Condell  for  ad- 
ing  this  tragedy  among  those  of  Shakspeare,  all  it  has  gained 
iieir  favour  is,  to  be  delivered  down  to  posterity. with  re* 
ted  remarks  of  contempt — a  Thersites  babbling  among  heroes* 
introduced  only  to  be  derided.' — Steevens. 

OL.  IX. 


Persons  represented. 

Saturninub,  Son  to  the  late  Emperor  of  Rome,  and  aft 

wards  declared  Emperor  hitnsclf. 
Bassianus,  Brother  to  Saturninus ;  in  love  with  Lavinia. 
Titus  Andronicus,  a  noble  Roman,  General  against  the  Got 
Marcus  Andronicus,  Tribune  of  the  People;  and  Brotha 

Lucius,      "n 

Martius,    >Son8to  Titu8  Andronicus. 

Mutius,      J 

Young  Lucius,  a  Boy,  Son  to  Lucius. 

Pubuus,  Son  to  Marcus  the  Tribune, 

JEbulius,  a  noble  Roman. 

Alarbus,       *) 

Chiron,  >  Sons  to  Tamora. 

Demetrius,   j 

Aaron,  a  Moor,  beloved  by  Tamora. 

A  Captain,  Tribune,  Messenger,  and  Clown ;  Romans. 

Goths,  and  Romans. 

Tamora,  Queen  of  the  Goths. 
Lavinia,  Daughter  to  Titus  Andronicus. 
A  Nurse,  and  a  Black  Child. 

Kinsmen  of  Titus,  Senators,  Tribunes,  Officers,  Soldi* 

and  Attendants. 

SCENE — Rome ;  and  the  Country  near  it. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.    Rome.    Before  the  Capitol. 

The  Tomb  of  the  Andranici  appearing;  the  Tri-t 
bones  and  Senators  aloft,  as  in  the  Senate.  Enter, 
fefotc,  Saturninus  and  his  Followers,  on  one 
side;  and  Bassianus  and  his  Followers  on  the 
other;  with  Drum  and  Colours. 


Noble  patricians,  patrons  of  my  right, 
Defend  the  justice  of  my  cause  with  arms; 
And»  countrymen,  my  loving  followers, 
iMead  my  successive  title  *  with  your  swords : 
I  am  his  first-born  son,  that  was  the  last 
That  ware  the  imperial  diadem  of  Rome ; 
Then  let  my  father's  honours  live  in  me, 
Nor  wrong  mine  age2  with  this  indignity* 
Bos.  Romans, — friends,  followers,  favourers  of 
my  right, — 
If  ever  Bassianus,  Caesar's  son, 
Were  gracious  in  the  eyes  »of  royal  Rome, 
Keep  then  this  passage  to  the  Capitol ; 

1  i.  e.  my  title  to  the  succession.  '  The  empire  being  elective 
and  not  successive,  the  emperors  in  being  made  profit  of  their  own 
times/ — Raleigh, 

r  Statnrninns  means  bis  seniority  in  point  of  age.  In  a  sub- 
sequent passage  Tamora -speaks  of  him  as  a  very  yoong  man. 


And  suffer  not  dishonour  to  approach 

The  imperial  seat,  to  virtue  consecrate, 

To  justice,  continence,  and  nobility : 

■But  let  desert  in  pure  election  shine ; 

And,  Romans,  fight  for  freedom  in,  your  choice 

Enter  Marcus  Andronicus  aloft,  with  tl 


Mar.   Princes  that  strive  by  factions,  and 
Ambitiously  for  rule  and  empery, — 
Know,  that  the  people  of  Rome,  for  whom  we  st 
.  A  special  party,  have,  by  common  voice, 
In  election  for  the  Roman  empery, 
Chosen  Andronicus,  surnamed  Pius, 
For  many  good  and  great  deserts  to  Rome ; 
A  nobler  man,  a  braver  warrior, 
Lives  not  this  day  within  the  city  walls : 
He  by  the  senate  is  accited  3  home, 
From  weary  wars  against  the  barbarous  Goths; 
That,  with  his  sons,  a  terror  to  our  foes, 
Hath  yok'd  a  nation  strong,  train'd  up  in  arms. 
Ten  years  are  spent,  since  first  he  undertook 
This  cause  of  Rome,  and  chastised  with  arms 
O  ur  enemies'  pride :  Five  times  he  hath  returh'c 
Bleeding  to  Rome,  bearing  his  valiant  sons 
In  coffins  from  the  field; 
And  now- at  last,  laden  with  honour's  spoils, 
Returns  the  good  Andronicus  to  Rome, 
Renowned  Titus,  flourishing  in  arms. 
Let  us  entreat, — By  honour  of  his  name, 
Whom,  worthily,  you  would  have  now  succeed 
And  in  the  Capitol  and  senate's  right, 
Whom  you  pretend  to  honour  and  adore, — 
'  That  you  withdraw  you,  and  abate  your  strengt 

.     3  Summoned. 


ismiss  your  followers,  and,  as  suitors  should, 

lead  your  deserts  in  peace  and  humbleness. 

Sat.  How  fair  the  tribune  speaks  to  calm  my 

thoughts ! 
Bas.  Marcus  Andronicus,  so  1  do  affy 
thy  uprightness  and  integrity, 
ad  so  I  love  and  honour  thee  and  thine, 
ly  nobler  brother  Titus,  and  his  sons, 
ad  her  to  whonf  my  thoughts  are  humbled  all, 
racious  Lavinia,  Rome's  rich  ornament, 
lat  I  will  here  dismiss  my  loving  friends ; 
ad  to  my  fortunes,  and  the  people's  favour, 
>mmit  my  cause  in  balance  to  be  weigh'd. 

[Exeunt  the  Followers  o/*Bassianus. 
Sat.  Friends,  that  have  been  thus  forward  in  my 

thank  you  all,  and  here  dismiss  you  all ; 
nd  to  the  love  and  favour  of  my  country 
>mmit  myself,  my  person,  and  the  cause. 

[Exeunt  the  Followers  ©/* Saturn inus. 
)me,  be  as  just  and  gracious  unto  me, 
1 1  am  confident  and  kind  to  thee.— 
>en  the  gates,  and  let  me  in. 
Bas.  Tribunes !  and  me,  a  poor  competitor. 
[Sat.  and  Bas.  go  into  the  Capitol,  and  exeunt 
with  Senators,  Marcus,  fyc. 

SCENE  II.     The  same. 

Enter  a  Captain,  and  Others. 

Cap.  Romans,  make  way;  The  good  Andronicus, 
itron  of  virtue,  Rome's  best  champion, 
ccessful  in  the  battles  that  he  fights, 
ith  honour  and  with  fortune  is  return'd, 
3m  where  he  circumscribed  with  his  sword, 
id  brought  to  yoke,  the  enemies  of  Rome. 

p  $ 

102  TJTU3  A* DRONICUS.  ACT  I. 


Flourish  of  Trumpet*,  fyc.  Enter  Mutius  an 
Marti  us;  after  tliem  Two  Men  bearing  a  Cojjt 
covered  with  black;  then  Quintus  and  Lucius 
After  them,  Titus  Andronicus;  and  the 
Tamora,  with  Alarbus,  Chiron,  Deme 
Tftius,  Aaron,  and  other  Goths,  prisoners 
Soldiers  and  People  following.  The  Bearers  se 
down  the  Coffin,  and  Titus  speaks. 

Tit.   Hail,  Rome,  victorious  in  thy  mournin 
Lo,  as  the  bark  that  hath  discharg'd  her  fraught, 
Returns  with  precious  lading  to  the  bay,. 
From  whence  at  first  she  weigh'd  her  anchorage, 
Cometh  Andronicus,  bound  with  laurel  boughs, 
To  re-salute  his  country  with  his  tears ; 
Tears  of  true  joy  for  his  return  to  Rome. — 
Thou  great  defender  of  this  Capitol1, 
Stand  gracious  to  the  rights  that  we  intend! — 
Romans,  of  five  and  twenty  valiant  sons, 
Half  of  the  number  that  king  Priam  had, 
Behold  the  poor  remains  alive,  and. dead ! 
These,  that  survive,  let  Rome  reward  with  love; 
These,  that  I  bring  unto  their  latest  home, 
With  burial  amongst  their  ancestors : 
Here  Gotbs  have  given  me  leave  to  sheath  my  sword 
Titus,  unkind,  and  careless  of  thine  own, 
Why  suffer'st  thou  thy  sons,  unburied  yet, 
To  hover  on  the  dreadful  shore  of  Styx? — 
Make  way  to  lay  them  by  their  brethren. 

[  The  Tomb  is  operm 
There  greet  in  silence,  as  the  dead  are  wont, 
And  sleep  in  peace,  slain  in  your  country's  wars! 
O  sacred  receptacle  of  my  joys, 
Sweet  cell  of  virtue  and.  nobility, . 

1  Jupiter,  to  whom  the  -Capitol  was  -sacred.   ■  - 


How  many  .sons  of  mine,  hast  thou  in  store, 
That  thou  wilt  never  render  to  me  more? 

Luc.  Give  us  the  proudest  prisoner  of  the  Goths, 
That  we  may  hew  his  limbs,  and,  on  a  pile, 
Ad  manes  fratrum  sacrifice  his  flesh, 
Before  this  earthly  2  prison  of  their  bones ; 
That  so  the  shadows  be  not  unappeas'd, 
Nor  we  disturb'd  with  prodigies  on  earth3. 

Tit.  I  give  him  you ;  the  noblest  that  survives, 
The  eldest  son  of  this  distressed  queen. 

Tarn.   Stay,  Roman  brethren; — Gracious  con- 
Victorious  Titus,  rue  the  tears  I  shed, 
A.  mother's  tears  in  passion4  for  her  son : 
ind,  if  thy  sons  were  ever  dear  to  thee, 
),  think  my  son  to  be  as  dear  to  me.  . 
>ufficeth  not,  that  we  are  brought  to  Rome, . 
To  beautify  thy  triumphs,  and  return, 
Captive  to  thee,  and  to  thy  Roman  yoke; 
Jut  must  my  sons  be  slaughter'd  in  the  streets, 
7or  valiant  doings  in  their  country's  cause  ? 
) !  if  to  fight  for  lung  and  commonweal 
Were  piety  in  thine,  it  is  in  these. 
Lndronicus-,  stain  not  thy  tomb  with  blood: 
rVilt  thou  draw  near  the  nature  of  the  gods? 
)raw  near  them  then  in  being  merciful : 
iweet  mercy  is  nobility's  true  badge; 
Chrice-noble  Titus,  spare  my  first-born  son. 

Tit.  Patient5  yourself,  madam,  and  pardon  me. 
rhese  are  their  brethren,  whom  you  Goths  beheld 

2  Earthy.   Ed.  1600. 

3  It  was  supposed  that  the  ghosts  of  unbnried  people  appear- 
>d  to  solicit  the  rites  of  funeral. 

4  i.  e.  in  grief. 

5  This  verb  is  used  by  other  old  dramatic  writers.    Thus  ilk 
Irden  of  Feversham,  1592 : — 

'  Patent  yourself,  we  .cannot  help  it  now  J 



Alive,  and  dead;  and  for  their  brethren  slain, 

Religiously  they  ask  a  sacrifice : 

To  this  your  son  is  mark'd;  and  die  he  must, 

To  appease  their  groaning  shadows  that  are  gone,     i 

Luc.  Away  with  him  I  and  make  a  fire  straight; 
And  with  our  swords,  upon  a  pile  of  wood, 
Let's  hew  his  limbs,  till  they  be  clean  consum'd. 
[Exeunt  Lucius,  Quintus,  Martius,  and 
Mutius,  with  Alarbus. 

Tarn.  Q  cruel,  irreligious  piety! 

Chi.  Was  ever  Scy thia  half  so  barbarous  ? 

Bern.  Oppose  not  Scythia  to  ambitious  Rome. 
Alarbus  goes  to  rest;  and  we  survive 
To  tremble  under  Titus'  threatening  look. 
Then,  madam,  stand  resolv'd;  but  hope  withal, 
The  selfsame  gods,  that  arm'd  the  queen  of  Troy 
With  opportunity  of  sharp  revenge 
Upon  the  Thracian  tyrant  in  his  tent6, 
May  favour  Tamora,  the  queen  of  Goths 
(When  Goths  were  Goths,  and  Tamora  was  queen), 
To  quit  the  bloody  wrongs  upon  her  foes. 

Re-enter  Lucius,  Quintus,  Martius,  and 
Mutius,  with  their  swords  bloody. 

Luc.  See,  lord  and  father,  hpw  we  have  .performed 
Our  Roman  rites :  Alarbus'  limbs  are  lopp'd, 
And  entrails  feed  the  sacrificing  fire, 
Whose  smoke,  like  incense,  doth  perfume  the  sky. 

6  Theobald  says  tbat  we  should  read,  '  in  her  tent;*  i.e.  in 
the  tent  where  she  and  the  other  Trojan  women  were  kept;  for 
thither  Hecuba  by  a  wile  had  decoyed  Polymnestor,  in  order 
to  perpetrate  her  revenge.  Steevens  objects  to  Theobald's 
conclusion,  that  the  writer  gleaned  this  circumstance  from  the 
Hecuba  of  Euripides,  and  says, '  he  may  have  been  misled  by 
the  passage  in  Ovid — "  vadit  ad  artificem;"  and  therefore  took 
it  for  granted  she  found  him  in  his  tent.*  Yet  on  another  occa- 
sion he  observes,  that  the  writer  has  a  plain  allusion  to  the  Ajax 
of  Sophocles,  of  which  no  translation  was  extant  in  the  time  of 


Gtemaineth  nought,  but  ten  inter  .our  brethren, 
Ind  with  loud  'larums  welcome  them  to  Rome. 

Tit*  Let  it  be  so,  and  let  Audroaicus 
Hake  this  his  latest  farewell  to  their  souls. 

[  Trumpet  $  sounded,  and  the  Coffins  laid  in 
the  Tomb. 
n  peace  and  honour  rest  you  here,  my  sons; 
tome's  readiest  champions,  repose  you  here  in  rest, 
ecure  from  worldly  chances  and  mishaps  ! 
lere  lurks  no  treason,  here  no  envy  swells, 
Fere  grow  no  damned  grudges ;  here  are  no  storms, 
To  noise,  but. silence  and  eternal  sleep: 

Enter  Lavinia. 

a  peace  and  honour  rest  you  here,  my  sons ! 

Lav.  In  peace  and  honour  live  Lord  Titus  long ; 
[y  noble  lord  and  father,  live  in  fame ! 
.o !  at  this  tomb  my  tributary  tears 
render,  for  my  brethren's  obsequies ; 
ind  at  thy  feet  I  kneel  with  tears  of  joy 
hed  on  the  earth,  for  thy  return  to  Rome : 
►,  bless  me  here  with  thy  victorious  hand, 
Phose  fortunes  Rome's  best  citizens  applaud. 

Tit.  Kind  Rome,  thou  hast  thus  lovingly  reserv'd 
he  cordial  of  mine  age  to  glad  my  heart ! — 
avinia,  live ;  outlive  thy  father's  days, 
ind  fame's  eternal  date,  for  virtue's  praise? ! 

Enter  Marcus  Andronicus,  Saturninus, 
Bassianus,  and  Others. 

Mar.  Long  live  Lord  Titus,*  my  beloved  brother, 
racious  triumpher  in  the  eyes  of  Rome  ! 
Tit.  Thanks,  gentle  tribune,  noble  brother  Marcus. 

7  To  '  outlive  an  eternal  date'  is,  though  not  philosophical, 
i  poetical  sense.  He  wishes  that  her  life  maj  be  longer  than 
s,  and  her  praise  longer  than  fame. 


Mar.  And  welcome,  nephews,  from  successful 

You  that  survive,  and  you  that  sleep  in  fame.  fa 

Fair  lords,  your  fortunes  are  alike  in  all, 
That  in  your  country's  service  drew  your  swords: 
But  safer  triumph  is  this  funeral  pomp,  la 

That  hath  aspir'd  to  Solon's  happiness8,  £ 

And  triumphs  over  chance,  in  honour's  bed. —  i 

Titus  Andronicus,  the  people  of  Rome, 
Whose  friend  in  justice  thou  hast  ever  been, 
Send  thee  by  me,  their  tribune,  and  their  trust, 
This  palliament9  of  white  and  spotless  hue ; 
And  name  thee  in  election  for  the  empire, 
With  these  our  late  deceased  emperor's  sons : 
Be  candidatus  then,  and  put  it  on, 
And  help  to  set  a  head  on  headless  Rome. 

Tit.  A  better  head  her  glorious  body  fits, 
Than  his,  that  shakes  for  age  and  feebleness : 
What?  should  I  don10  this  robe,  and  trouble  you? 
Be  chosen  with  proclamations  to-day ; 
To-morrow,  yield  up  rule,  resign  my  life, 
And  set  abroad  new  business  for  you  all  ? 
Rome,  I  have  been  thy  soldier  forty  years, 
And  buried  one  and  twenty  valiant  sons, 
Knighted  in  field,  slain  manfully  in  arms, 
In  right  and  service  of  their  noble  country : 
Give  me  a  staff  of  honour  for  mine  age, 
But  not  a  sceptre  to  control  the  world : 
Upright  he  held  it,  lords,  that  held  it  last. 

Mar.  Titus,  thou  shalt  obtain  and  ask  the  empery  u. 

Sat.  Proud  and  ambitious  tribune,  canst  thou 
tell  ?— 

8  The  maxim  alluded  to  is,  that  no  man  can  be  pronounced 
happy  before  his  death. 

9  A  robe.  l0  i.  e.  do  on,  put  it  on. 
11  Steevens  remarks  that  *  here  is  rather  too  much  of  the 

flffttpov  TrpoYtpov.' 


it.  Patience,  Prince  Saturnine. 
it.  Romans,  do  me  right ; — 

icians,  draw  your  swords,  and  sheath  them  not 
Saturninus  be  Rome's  emperor:-*— 
ronicus,  'would  thou  wert  shipp'd  toJiell, 
tier  than  rob  me  of  the  people's  hearts. 
uc.  Proud  Saturnine,  interrupter  of  the  good 
t  noble-minded  Titus  means  to  thee ! 
it.  Content  thee,  prince ;  I  will  restore  to  thee 
people's  hearts,  and  wean  them  from  themselves* 
las.  Andronicus,  I  do  not  flatter  thee, 
honour  thee,  and  will  do  till  I  die; 
faction  if  thou  strengthen  with  thy  friends, 
ill  most  thankful  be :  and  thanks,  to  men 
loble  minds,  is  honourable  meed. 
nit.  People  of  Rome,  and  people's  tribunes  here, 
»k  your  voices,  and  your  suffrages ; 
II  you  bestow  them  friendly  on  Andronicus  ? 
Vrib.  To  gratify  the  good  Andronicus, 
1  gratulate  his  safe  return  to  Rome, 
i  people  will  accept  whom  he  admits. 
Vit.  Tribunes,  I  thank  you :  and  this  suit  I  make, 
it  you  create  your  emperor's  eldest  son, 
d  Saturnine;  whose  virtues  will,  I  hope, 
fleet  on  Rome,  as  Titan's  rays  on  earth, 
d  ripen  justice  in  this  commonweal : 
ai  if  you  will  elect  by  my  advice, 
>wn  him,  and  say,-— Long  live  our  emperor! 
War.  With  voices  and  applause  of  every  sort, 
tricians,  and  plebeians,  we  create 
•d  Saturninus,  Rome's  great  emperor; 
d  say, — Long  live  our  emperor  Saturnine! 

[A  bong  Flourisk* 
Sat.  Titus  Andronicus,  for  thy  favours  done 
us  in  our  election  this  day,  i 

ive  thee  thanks  in  part  of  thy  deserts, 



And  will  with  deeds  requite  thy  gentleness:  • 

And,  for  an  onset,  Titus,  to  advance 

Thy  .name,  and  honourable  family, 

Lavinia  will  I  make  my  emperess, 

Rome's  royal  mistress,  mistress  of  my  heart, 

And  in  the  sacred  Pantheon  her  espouse : 

Tell  me,  Andronicus,  doth  this  motion  please  thee? 

Tit.  It  doth,  my  worthy  lord;  and,  in  this  match, 
I  hold  me  highly  honour'd  of  your  grace : 
And  here,  in  sight  of  Rome,  to  Saturnine,— 
King  and  jcommander  of  our  commonweal, 
The  wide  world's  emperor, — -do  I  consecrate 
My  sword,  my  chariot,  and  my  prisoners  v 
Presents  well  worthy  Rome's  imperial  lord : 
Receive  them  then,  the  tribute  that  I  owe, 
Mine  honour's  ensigns  humbled  at  thy  feet. 

Sat,  Thanks,  noble  Titus,  father  of  my  life! 
How  proud  T  am  of  thee,  and  of  thy  gifts, 
Rome  shall  record;  and,  when  I  do  forget 
The  least  of  .these  unspeakable  deserts, 
Romans,  forget  your  fealty  to  me. 

Tit.  Now,  madam,  are  you  prisoner  to  an  em- 
peror ;  .[To  T  AMOR  A. 
To  him,  that  for  your  honour  and  your  state, 
Will  usei  you  nobly,  and  your  followers. 

Sat.  A  goodly  lady,  trust  me;  of  the  hue 
That  I  would  choose,  were  I  to  choose  anew>— «■ 
Clear  up,  fair  queen,  that  cloudy  countenance ; 
Though  chance  of  war  hath  wrought  this  change  of 

Thou  com'st  not  to  be  made  a  scorn  in  Rome: 
Princely  shall  be  thy  usage  every  way. 
Rest  on  my  word,  and  let  not  discontent 
Daunt  all  your  hopes:  Madam,  he  comforts  you, 
Can  make  you  greater  than  the  queen  of  Goths.-*- 
Lavinia,  you  are  not  displeas'd  with  this  ? 

He.  It.  TITUS  ANDSON1CU9.  189 

Lav.  Not  I,  my  lord18;  sitli  true  nobility 
Warrants  these  words  Id  princely  courtesy. 

Sat.  Thanks,  sweet  Lavinia. — Romans,  let  us  go : 
Lansomeless  here  we  set  our  prisoners  free : 
'reclaim  our  honours,  lords,  with  trump  and  drum. 

Bat.  Lord  Titus,  by  your  leave,  this  maid  is  mine. 
[Seizing  Lavinia. 

Til.  How, sir?  Are  you  in  earnest  then,  my  lord? 

Bas.  Ay,  noble  Titus;  and  resolv'd  withal, 
'o  do  myself  this  reason  and  this  right. 

[The  Emperor  courts  Tamoha  in  dumb  show. 

Mar.  Suum  caique  is  our  Roman  justice : 
liis  prince  in  justice  seizeth  but  his  own. 

hue.  And  that  he  will,  and  shall,  if  Lucius  live. 

Tit.  Traitors,  avaunt!   Where  is  the  emperor's 

"reason,  my  lord;  Lavinia  is  surpris'd. 
Sat.  Surpris'd  I  By  whom  ? 
Bas.  By  him  that  justly  may 

tear  his '  betroth' d  from  all  the  world  away. 

[Exeunt  Marcus  and  Bassi  anus,  with 
Mut.  Brothers,  help  to  convey  her  hence  away, 
ind  with  my  sword  III  keep  this  door  safe. 

[Exeunt  Lucius,  Quintus,  and  Martius. 
Tit.  Follow,  my  lord,  and  I'll  soon  bring  her  back. 
Mut.  My  lord,  you  pass  not  here. 

"  '  II  wu  a  pitj  to  part  ■  couple  who  seem  to  h»«e  correa- 
ooded  in  disposition  ao  exactly  aa  Satarninua  and  Laiinia. 
aluminas,  who  has  jost  promised  to  espouse  her,  already  wishea 
e  were  lo  choose  again;  and  she  who waa engaged  to  Baaaianua 
whom  ahe  afterward  marries)  expresses  no  reluctance  when 
tr  father  giiea  her  lo  Satnrninni.  Her  snbseqnent  raillery  to 
'amors  i*  of  so  coarse  a  nature,  that  if  her  tongue  had  been  all 
be  wu  condemned  to  lose,  perhaps  the  author  (whoever  he 
'»)  might  hare  escaped  censure  on  the  score  of  poetic  justice.' 

VOL.  IX.  Q 


Tit.  What,  villain  boy ! 

Barr'st  me  my  way  in  Rome?        [Tit.  kills  Mut. 

Mut.  Help,  Lucius,  help. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

Luc.  My  lord,  you  are  unjust:  and,  more  than  so, 
In  wrongful  quarrel  you  have  slain  your  son. 

Tit.  Nor  thou,  nor  he,  are  any  sons  of  mine : 
My  sons  would  never  so  dishonour  me : 
Traitor,  restore  Lavinia  to  the  emperor. 

Luc.  Dead,  if  you  will :  but  not  to  be  his  wife, 
That  is  another's  lawful  promised  love.  [Exit. 

Sat.  No,  Titus,  no ;  the  emperor  needs  her  not, 
Nor  her,  nor  thee,  nor  any  of  the  stock : 
I'll  trust,  by  leisure,  him  that  mocks  me  once; 
Thee  never,  nor  thy  traitorous  haughty  sons, 
Confederates  all  thus  to  dishonour  me. 
Was  there  none  else  in  Rome  to  make  a  stale13  of, 
But  Saturnine?  Full  well,  Andronicus, 
Agree  these  deeds  with  that  proud  brag  of  thine, 
That  said'st,  I  begg'd  the  empire  at  thy  hands. 

Tit.  O  monstrous !  what  reproachful  words  are 
these  ? 

Sat.  But  go  thy  ways;  go,  give  that  changing 
To  him  that  flourish'd  for  her  with  his  sword : 
A  valiant  son-in-law  thou  shalt  enjoy ; 
One  fit  to  bandy  with  thy  lawless  sons, 
To  ruffle 14  in  the  commonwealth  of  Rome. 

Tit.  These  words  are  razors  to  my  wounded  heart. 

13  A  stale  here  signifies  a  stalking-horse.  To  make  a  stale  of 
any  one  seems  to  have  meant '  to  make  them  an  object  of  mock- 
ery.'    This  is  the  meaning  of  Katharine  in  The  Taming  of  the 

Shrew,  when  she  says  to  her  father,  * is  it  your  will  to  make 

a  stale  of  me  amongst  these  mates?'  I  will  request  the  reader  to 
correct  my  note  on  that  passage,  vol.  iii.  p.  356,  accordingly* 

14  To  ruffle  was  to  be  tumultuous  and  turbulent.  Thus  Baret  :— 
'A  trouble  or  ruffling  in  the  common-^eale:  proceUa.' 


'at.    And  therefore,  lovely  Tamora,  queen  of 

Goths, — 
t,  like  the  stately  Phcebe  'mongst  her  nymphs, 
»t  overshine  the  gallant'st  dames  of  Rome, — 
lou  be  pleas'd  with  this  my  sudden  choice, 
lold,  I  choose  thee,  Tamora,  for  my  bride, 
1  will  create  thee  emperess  of  Rome, 
ak,  queen  of  Goths,  dost  thou  applaud  my  choice? 
1  here  I  swear  by  all  the  Roman  gods, — 
i  priest  and  holy  water  are  so  near, 
1  tapers  burn  so  bright,  and  every  thing 
eadiness  for  Hymeneus  stand, — 
ill  not  resalute  the  streets  of  Rome, 
climb  my  palace,  till  from  forth  this  place 
ad  espous'd  my  bride  along  with  me. 
nam.  And  here,  in  sight  of  heaven,  to  Rome  I 

aturnine  advance  the  queen  of  Goths, 
will  a  handmaid  be  to  his  desires, 
oving  nurse,  a  mother  to  his  youth. 
'at.  Ascend,  fair  queen,  Pantheon : — Lords,  ac- 
ir  noble  emperor,  and  his  lovely  bride, 
t  by  the  heavens  for  prince  Saturnine, 
ose  wisdom  hath  her  fortune  conquered : 
re  shall  we  consummate  our  spousal  rites. 
[Exeunt  Saturninus,  and  his  Followers;  Ta- 
mora, and  her  Sons;  Aaron  and  Goths. 
Tt£.  I  am  not  bid 15  to  wait  upon  this  bride ; — 
is,  when  wert  thou  wont  to  walk  alone, 
honourd  thus,  and  challenged  of  wrongs? 

Re-enter  Marcus,  Lucius,  Quintus,  and 



far.  O,  Titus,  see,  O,  see,  what  thou  hast  done  I 
i  bad  quarrel  slain  a  virtuous  son. 

15  i.  e.  invited. 



Tit.  No,  foolish  tribune,  no;  no  son  of  mine,— 
Nor  thou,  nor  these  confederates  in  the  deed 
That  hath  dishonour'd  all  our  family ; 
Unworthy  brother,  and  unworthy  sons ! 

Luc.  But  let  us  give  him  burial,  as  becomes; 
Give  Mutius  burial  with  our  brethren. 

Tit.  Traitors,  away !  he  rests  not  in  this  tomb. 
This  monument  five  hundred  years  hath  stood, 
Which  I  have  sumptuously  re-edified : 
Here  none  but  soldiers,  and  Rome's  servitors, 
Repose  in  fame ;  none  basely  slain  in  brawls  :— 
Bury  him  where  you  can,  he  comes  not  here. 

Mar.  My  lord,  this  is  impiety  in  you : 
My  nephew  Mutius7  deeds  do  plead  for  him ; 
He  must  be  buried  with  his  brethren. 
-   Quin.  Mart.  And  shall,  or  him  we  will  accom- 

Tit.  And  shall?  What  villain  was  it  spoke  that 

Quin.  He  that  would  vouch't  in  any  place  but  here. 

Tit.  What,  would  you  bury  him  in  my  despite? 

Mar.  No,  noble  Titus ;  but  entreat  of  thee 
To  pardon  Mutius,  and  to  bury  him. 

Tit.  Marcus,  even  thou  hast  struck  upon  my  crest, 
And,  with  these  boys,  mine   honour    thou   hast 

wounded : 
My  foes  I  do  repute  you  every  one ; 
So  trouble  me  no  more,  but  get  you  gone. 

Mart.  He  is  not  with  himself16 :  let  us  withdraw. 

Quin.  Not  I,  till  Mutius'  bones  be  buried. 

[Marcus  and  the  Sons  of  Titus  kneel 

Mar.  Brother,  for  in  that  name  doth  nature  plead. 

Quin.  Father,  and  in  that  name  doth  nature  speak. 

Tit.  Speak  thou  no  more,  if  all  the  rest  will  speed. 

Mar.  Renowned  Titus,  more  than  half  my  soul, — 

10  '  He  is  not  with  himself.    This  is  much  the  same  sort  of 
phrase  as  he  is  beside  him  self y  a  genuine  English  idiom. 


Luc.  Dear  father,  soul  and  substance  of  us  all, — 
Mar.  Suffer  thy  brother  Marcus  to  inter 
lis  noble  nephew  here  in  virtue's  nest, 
'hat  died  in  honour  and  Lavinia's  cause. 
'hou  art  a  Roman,  be  not  barbarous, 
'he  Greeks,  upon  advice,  did  bury  Ajax 
"hat  slew  himself;  and  wise  Laertes'  son 
)id  graciously  plead  for  his  funerals 17. 
<et  not  young  Mutius  then,  that  was  thy  joy, 
k  barr'd  his  entrance  here. 
Tit.  Rise,  Marcus,  rise : — 

lie  dismal'st  day  is  this,  that  e'er  I  saw, 
o  be  dishonour'd  by  my  sons  in  Rome ! — 
Fell,  bury  him,  and  bury  me  the  next. 

[Mutius  is  put  into  the  Tomb. 
Luc.  There  lie  thy  bones,  sweet  Mutius,  with 

thy  friends, 
ill  we  with  trophies  do  adorn  thy  tomb ! — 
AIL  No  man  shed  tears  for  noble  Mutius ; 
[e  lives  in  fame  that  died  in  virtue's  cause 18. 
Mar.    My  lord, — to  step  out  of  these  dreary 

dumps, — 
ow  comes  it,  that  the  subtle  queen  of  Goths 
of  a  sudden  thus  advanc'd  in  Rome  ? 
Tit.  I  know  not,  Marcus  ;  but,  I  know,  it  is ; 
hether  by  device,  or  no,  the  heavens  can  tell : 

17  '  This  passage  alone  would  sufficiently  convince  me  that 
pJay  before  as  was  the  work  of  one  who  was  conversant 
h  the  Greek  tragedies  in  their  original  language.  We  have 
e  a  plain  allusion  to  the  Ajax  of  Sophocles,  of  which  no 
nslation  was  extant  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare.  In  that  piece 
amemnon  consents  at  last  to  allow  Ajax  the  rites  of  sepul- 
e,  and  Ulysses  rs  the  pleader  whose  arguments  prevail  in 
onr  of  his  remains/ — Steevens. 

8  This  is  evidently  a  translation  of  the  distich  of  Ennius : — 
'  Nemo  me  lacrumeis  decoret :  nee  funera  fletu 
Fascit  quur?  volito  vivu'  per  ora  virum.' 




Is  she  not  then  beholden  to  the  man 

That  brought  her  for  this  high  good  turn  so  far? 

Yes,  and  will  nobly  him  remunerate. 

Flourish.  Re-enter,  at  one  side,  Saturjunus, 
attended;  Tamora,  Chiron,  Demetrius,  and 
Aaron:  at  the  other,  Bassianus,  Lavinia, 
and  Others. 

Sat.  So,  Bassianus,  you  have  play'd  your  prize19; 
God  give  you  joy,  sir,  of  your  gallant  bride. 

Bas.  And  you  of  yours,  my  lord:  I  say  no  more, 
Nor  wish  no  less ;  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 

Sat.  Traitor,  if  Rome  have  law,  or  we  have  power, 
Thou  and  thy  faction  shall  repent  this  rape. 

Bas.  Rape,  call  you  it,  my  lord,  to  seize  my  own, 
My  true  betrothed  love,  and  now  my  wife? 
But  let  the  laws  of  Rome  determine  all; 
Mean  while  I  am  possessed  of  that  is  mine. 

Sat.  Tis  good,  sir:  You  are  very  short  with  us; 
But,  if  we  live,  we'll  be  as  sharp  with  you. 

Bas.  My  lord,  what  I  have  done,  as  best  I  may, 
Answer  I  must,  and  shall  do  with  my  life. 
Only  thus  much  I  give  your  grace  to  know, 
By  all  the  duties  that  I  owe  to  Rome, 
This  noble  gentleman,  Lord  Titus  here, 
Is  in  opinion,  and  in  honour,  wrong'd ; 
That,  in  the  rescue  of  Lavinia, 
With  his  own  hand  did  slay  his  youngest  son, 
In  zeal  to  you,  and  highly  mov'd  to  wrath 
To  be  control'd  in  that  he  frankly  gave : 
Receive  him  then  to  favour,  Saturnine ; 
That  hath  express'd  himself,  in  all  his  deeds, 
A  father,  and  a  friend,  to  thee,  and  Rome. 

Tit.  Prince  Bassianus,  leave  to  plead  my  deeds; 
'Tis  thou,  and  those,  that  have  dishonour'd  me : 

19  To  play  a  prize  was  a  technical  term  in  the  ancient  fencing 
schools.    See  vol.  i.  p.  195,  note  1h. 

SC.  II. 



Rome  and  the  righteous  heavens  be  my  judge, 
How  I  have  lov'd  and  honour'd  Saturnine! 

Tarn.  My  worthy  lord,  if  ever  Tamora 
Were  gracious  in  those  princely  eyes  of  thine. 
Then  hear  me  speak  indifferently  for  all; 
And  at  my  suit,  sweet,  pardon  what  is  past. 

Sat.  What !  madam !  be  dishonoured  openly, 
And  basely  put  it  up  without  revenge  ? 

Tarn.  Not  so,  my  lord ;  The  gods  of  Rome  for ef end, 
1  should  be  author  to  dishonour  you ! 
But,  on  mine  honour,  dare  I  undertake 
For  good  Lord  Titus'  innocence  in  all, 
Whose  fury,  not  dissembled,  speaks  hfe  griefs  : 
Then,  at  my  suit,  look  graciously  on  him ; 
Lose  not  so  noble  a  friend  on  vain  suppose, 
Nor  with  sour  looks  afflict  his  gentle  heart. 
My  lord,  be  rul'd  by  me,  be  won  at  last, 
Dissemble  all  your  griefs  and  discontents : ") 
You  are  but  newly  planted  in  your  throne ; 
Lest  then  the  people,  and  patricians  too, 
Upon  a  just  survey,  take  Titus'  part, 
And  so  supplant  us  for  ingratitude 
(Which  Rome  reputes  to  be  a  heinous  sin), 
Yield  at  entreats,  and  then  let  me  alone : 
I'll  find  a  day  to  massacre  them  all,  V  Aside, 

And  raze  their  faction,  and  their  family, 
The  cruel  father,  and  his  traitorous  sons, 
To  whom  I  sued  for  my  dear  son's  life ; 
And  make  them  know,  what  'tis  to  let  a 

Kneel  in  the  streets,  and  beg  for  grace  in 

Come,  come,  sweet  emperor, — come,  Andronicus, 
Take,  up  this  good  old  man,  and  cheer  the  heart 
That  dies  in  tempest  of  thy  angry  frown. 
,   Sat.  Rise,  Titus, rise;  my  empress  hathprevaiVd. 



Tit.  I  thank  your  majesty,  4and  her,  my  lord: 
These  words,  these  looks,  infuse  new  life  in  me. 

Tarn.  Titus,  I  am  incorporate  in  Rome, 
A  Roman  now  adopted  happily, 
And  must  advise  the  emperor  for  his  good. 
This  day  all  quarrels  die,  Andronicus; — 
And  let  it  be  mine  honour,  good  my  lord, 
That  I  have  reconcil'd  your  friends  and  you. — 
For  you,  Prince  Bassianus,  I  haye  pass'd 
My  word  and  promise  to  the  emperor, 
That  you  will  be  more  mild  and  tractable. — 
And  fear  not,  lords, — and  you,  Lavinia ; 
By  my  advice,  all  humbled  on  your  knees, 
You  shall  ask  pardon  of  his  majesty. 

Luc. We  do;  and  vow  to  heaven,and  to  his  highness, 
That,  what  we  did,  was  mildly,  as  we  might, 
Tendering  our  sister's  honour,  and  our  own* 

Mar.  That  on  mine  honour  here  I  do  protest 

Sat.  Away,  and  talk  not;  trouble  us  no  more. — 

Tarn.  Nay,  nay,  sweet  emperor,  we  must  all  be 
friends  : 
The  tribune  and  his  nephews  kneel  for  grace; 
I  will  not  be  denied.     Sweet  heart,  look  back. 

Sat.  Marcus,  for  thy  sake,  and  thy  brother's  here, 
And  at  my  lovely  Tamora's  entreats, 
I  do  remit  these  young  men's  heinous  faults. 
Stand  up. 

Lavinia,  though  you  left  me  like  a  churl, 
I  found  a  friend ;  and  sure  as  death  I  swore, 
I  would  not  part  a  bachelor  from  the  priest. 
Come,  if  the  emperor's  court  can  feast  two  brides, 
You  are  my  guest,  Laviuia,  and  your  friends : 
This  day  shall  be  a  love-day,  Tamora. 

Tit.  To-morrow,  an  it  please  your  majesty, 
To  hunt  the  panther  and  the  hart  with  me, 
With  horn  and  hound,  we'll  give  your  grace  ban  jour. 

Sat.  Be  it  so,  Titus,  &u<i ^axafewj  \ofc.  {Exeunt. 


ACT  II1. 

SCENE  I.    Rome.     Before  the  Palace. 
Enter  Aaron. 


Aar.  Now  climbeth  Tamora  Olympus'  top, 
Safe  out  of  fortune's  shot :  and  sits  aloft, 
Secure  of  thunder's  crack,  or  lightning's  flash ; 
Advanc'd  above  pale  envy's  threat'ning  reach. 
As  when  the  golden  sun  salutes  the  morn, 
And,  having  gilt  the  ocean  with  his  beams^ 
jallops  the  zodiack  in  his  glistering  coach, 
ind  overlooks  the  highest-peering  hills ; 

>o  Tamora. 

Jpon  her  wit  doth  earthly  honour  wait, 
tad  virtue  stoops  and  trembles  at  her  frown, 
lien,  Aaron,  arm  thy  heart,  and  fit  thy  thoughts  * 
o  mount  aloft  with  thy  imperial  mistress, 
Lnd  mount  her  pitch ;  whom  thou  in  triumph  long 
last  prisoner  held,  fetter'd  in  amorous  chains ; 
Lnd  faster  bound  to  Aaron's  charming  eyes, 
*han  is  Prometheus  tied  to  Caucasus. 
Lway  with  slavish  weeds,  and  servile  thoughts ! 
will  be  bright,  and  shine  in  pearl  and  gold, 
o  wait  upon  this  new-made  emperess. 

0  wait,  said  I  ?  to  wanton  with  this  queen, 
'his  goddess,  this  Semiramis ;— this  nymph, 
"his  siren,  that  will  charm  Rome's- Saturnine, 
Lnd  see  his  shipwreck,  and  his  commonweal's. 
Jolloa !  what  storm  is  this  ? 

1  Id  the  quarto  of  1600  the  stage  direction  is  '  Sound  trum- 
ets,  manet  Moore.*  In  the  qnarto  of  1611  the  direction  is 
Manet  Aaron,'  and  he  is  before  made  to  enter  with  Tamora, 
hough  he  says  nothing.  This  scene  ought  to  continue  the  first 
ct. — Johnson. 


Enter  Chiron  and  Demetrius,  braving. 

Dem.  Chiron,  thy  years  want  wit,  thy  wit  wants 
And  manners,  to  intrude  where  I  am  grac'd : 
And  may,  for  aught  thou  know'st,  affected  be. 

Chi.  Demetrius,  thou  dost  overween  in  all : 
And  so  in  this  to  bear  me  down  with  braves. 
'Tis  not  the  difference  of  a  year,  or  two, 
Makes  me  less  gracious,  thee  more  fortunate : 
I  am  as  able,  and  as  fit,  as  thou, 
To  serve,  and  to  deserve  my  mistress'  grace ; 
And  that  my  sword  upon  thee  shall  approve, 
And  plead  my  passions  for  Lavinia's  love. 

Aar.  Clubs,  dubs2!  these  lovers  will  not  keep 
the  peace. 

Dem.  Why,  boy,  although  our  mother,  unadvis'd, 
Gave  you  a  dancing-rapier3  by  your  side, 
Are  you  so  desperate  grown,  to  threat  your  friends? 
Go  to ;  have  your  lath  glued  within  your  sheath, 
Till  you  know  better  how  to  handle  it. 

Chi.  Meanwhile,  sir,  with  the  little  skill  I  have, 
Full  well  shalt  thou  perceive  how  much  I  dare. 

Dem.  Ay,  boy,  grow  ye  so  brave  ?    [  They  draw. 

Aar.  Why,  how  now,  lords? 

So  near  the  emperor's  palace  dare  you  draw, 
And  maintain  such  a  quarrel  openly  ? 
Full  well  I  wot  the  ground  of  all  this  grudge ; 

3  This  was  the  usual  outcry  for  assistance,  when  any  riot  in 
the  street  happened.     See  vol.  i.  p.  201,  note  4. 

3  It  appears  that  a  light  kind  of  sword,  more' for  show  than 
use,  was  worn  by  gentlemen,  even  when  dancing,  in  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth.     So  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  :— 

' no  sword  worn 

But  one  to  dance  with.' 
And  Greene  in  his  Quip  for  an  Upstart  Courtier : — '  One  of  them 
carrying  his  cutting  sword  of  choller,  the  other  his  dancing- 
rapier  of  delight/ 



I  would  not  for  a  million  of  gold, 

The  cause  were  known  to  them  it  most  concerns : 

Nor  would  your  noble  mother,  for  much  more, 

Be  so  dishonoured  in  the  court  of  Rome. 

Por  shame,  put  up. 

Dem.  Not  I :  till  I  have  sheathed 

My  rapier  in  his  bosom,  and,  withall, 
Thrust  these  reproachful  speeches  down  his  throat, 
That  he  hath  breath'd  in  my  dishonour  here. 

Chi.  For  that  I  am  prepaid  and  full  resoled, — 
Foul  spoken  coward !  that  thunder'stwith  thy  tongue4, 
And  with  thy  weapon  nothing  dar'st  perform. 

Aar.  Away,  I  say. — 
Now  by  the  gods,  that  warlike  Goths  adore, 
This  petty  brabble  will  undo  us  all. — 
ffhy,  lords, — and  think  you  not  how  dangerous 
t  is  to  jut  upon  a  prince's  right  ? 
^hat,  is  Lavinia  then  become  so  loose, 
)r  Bassianus  so  degenerate, 
"hat  for  her  love  such  quarrels  may  be  broach'd, 
Without  controlment,  justice,  or  revenge? 
Toung  lords,  beware ! — an  should  the  empress  know 
'his  discord's  ground,  the  musick  would  notplease. 

Chi.  I  care  not,  I,  knew  she  and  all  the  world; 
love  Lavinia  more  than  all  the  world. 

Dem.  Youngling,  learn  thou  to  make  some  meaner 
choice : 
•aviniajs  thine  elder  brother's  hope. 

Aar.  Why,  are  ye  mad  ?  or  know  ye  not,  in  Rome 
low  furious  and  impatient  they  be, 
Lnd  cannot  brook  competitors  in  love  ? 
tell  you,  lords,  you  do  but  plot  your  deaths 
iy  this  device. 

4  This  phrase  appears  to  have  been  adopted  from  Virgil, 
Sneidxi.  383:— 

'  Proinde  (ajuz  tloquio,  solitum  tibi— ' 


Chi.  Aaron,  a  thousand  deaths 

Would  I  propose,  to  achieve  her  whom  I  love5. 

Aar.  To  achieve  her ! — How  ? 

Bern.  Why  mak'st  thou  it  so  strange? 

She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  woo'd ; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won  6 ; 
She  is  Lavinia,  therefore  must  be  lov'd. 
What,  man !  more  water  glideth  by  the  mill7 
Than  wots  the  miller  of;  and  easy  it  is 
Of  a  cut  loaf  to  steal  a  shive,  we  know : 
Though  Bassianus  be  the  emperor's  brother, 
Better  than  he  have  yet  worn  Vulcan's  badge. 

Aar.  Ay,  and  as  good  as  Saturninus  may. 


Bern.  Then  why  should  he  despair,  that  knows 
,   to  court  it 
With  words,  fair  looks,  and  liberality  ? 
What,  hast  thou  not  full  often  struck  a  doe, 
And  borne  her  cleanly  by  the  keeper's  nose8? 

5  Chiron  appears  to  mean,  '  that,  had  he  a  thousand  lives,  such 
was  his  love  for  Lavinia,  he  would  propose  to  venture  them  all 
to  achieve  her.'     Thus  in  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew : — 

'  Tranio,  I  burn,  I  burn,  I  pine,  I  perish,  Tranio, 
If  I  achieve  not  this  young  modest  girl.' 

6  These  two  lines  occur,  with  very  little  variation,  in  the  First 
Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  :— 

'  She's  beautiful,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd ; 

She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won.' 
This  circumstance  has  given  rise  to  a  conjecture  that  the  author 
of  the  present  play  was  also  the  writer  of  the  original  King 
Henry  VI,  Ritson  says  that  he  i  should  take  Kyd  to  have  been 
the  author  of  Titus  Andronicus,  because  he  seems  to  delight  ift 
murders  and  scraps  of  Latin,  though  it  must  be  confessed  that  ia 
the  first  of  those  good  qualities  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta  may 
fairly  dispute  precedence  with  the  Spanish  Tragedy.' 

7  There  is  a  Scottish  proverb,  '  Mickle  water  goes  by  the 
miller  when  he  sleeps.'  Non  omnem  molitor  quae  fluit  undavidet. 
The  subsequent  line  is  also  a  northern  proverb, '  It  is  safe  taking 
ft  shive  of  a  cut  loaf.' 

*  Mr,  Holt  is  willing  to  infer  that  Tifcu  Andronicus  was  one 



Aar.  Why  then,  it  seems,  some  certain  snatch, 

or  so, 
Would  serve  your  turns. 
Chi.  Ay,  so  the  turn  were  serv'd. 

Dem.  Aaron,  thou  hast  hit  it. 
Aar.  'Would,  you  had  hit  it  too ; 

Then  should  not  we  he  tir'd  with  this  ado. 
Why,  hark  ye,  hark  ye, — And  are  you  such  fools, 
To  square  9  for  this  ?  Would  it  offend  you  then 
That  both  should  speed? 
Chi.  I'faith,  not  me. 

Bern.  -Nor  me, 

Sol  were  one. 
Aar,  For  shame,  be  friends ;  and  join  for  that 
you  jar. 
Tis  policy  and  stratagem  must  do 
That  you  affect;  and  so  must  you  resolve; 
That  what  you  cannot,  as  you  would,  achieve, 
You  must  perforce  accomplish  as  you  may. 
Take  this  of  me,  Lucrece  was  not  more  chaste 
Than  this  Lavinia,  Bassianus'  love. 
A  speedier  course  than  lingering  languishment 
Must  we  pursue,  and  I  have  found  the  path. 
My  lords,  .a  solemn  hunting  is  in  hand ; 
There  will  the  lovely  Roman  ladies  troop : 
The  forest  walks  are  wide  and  spacious ; 
And  many  unfrequented  plots  there  are, 
Fitted  by  kind 10  for  rape  and  villany : 
Single  you  thither  then  this  dainty  doe, 
And  strike  her  home  by  force,  if  not  by  words : 
This  way,  or  not  at  all,  stand  you  in  hope. 

of  Shakspeare's  early  performances,  because  the  stratagem*  of 
the  profession  traditionally  given  to  his  yonth  seems  here  to  have 
been  fresh  io  the  writer's  mind.  Bat  when  we  consider  how 
common  allusions  to  sports  of  the  field  are  in  all  the  writers  of 
that  age,  there  seems  to  he  no  real  ground  for  the  conclusion. 
9  Quarrel.  10  By  nature. 

VOL.  IX.  B 


Come,  come,  our  empress,  with  her  sacred11  wit, 
To  villany  and  vengeance  consecrate, 
Will  we  acquaint  with  all  that  we  intend ; 
And  she  shall  file  our  engines  with  advice12, 
That  will  not  suffer  you  to  square  yourselves, 
But  to  your  wishes'  height  advance  you  both. 
The  emperor's  court  is  like  the  house  of  fame, 
The  palace  full  of  tongues,  of  eyes,  of  ears : 
The  woods  are  ruthless,  dreadful,  deaf,  and  dull; 
There  speak,  and  strike,  brave  boys,  and  take  your 

turns : 
There  serve  your  lust,  shadow'd  from  heaven's  eye, 
And  revel  in  Lavinia's  treasury. 

Chi.  Thy  counsel,  lad,  smells  of  no  cowardice. 

Dem.  Sit  fas  aut  nefas,  till  I  find  the  stream 
To  cool  this  heat,  a  charm  to  calm  these  fits, 
Per  Styga,  per  manes  vehor 13.  [Exeunt 


A  Forest  near  Rome.     A  Lodge  seen  at  a  distance. 
Horns,  and  cry  of  Hounds  heard. 

Enter  Titus  Andronicus,  with  Hunters,  fyc. 
Marcus,  Lucius,  Quintus,  and  Martius. 

Tit.  The  hunt  is  up,  the  morn  is  bright  and  gray, 
The  fields  are  fragrant,  and  the  woods  are  green : 
Uncouple  here,  and  let  us  make  a  bay, 
And  wake  the  emperor  and  his  lovely  bride, 
And  rouse  the  prince;  and  ring  a  hunter's  peal, 

11  Sacred  here  signifies  accursed;  a  Latinism. 

u  The  allusion  is  to  the  operation  of  the  file,  which,  by  giving 
smoothness,  facilitates  the  motion  of  the  parts  of  an  engine  or 
piece  of  machinery. 

13  These  scraps  of  Latin  are  taken,  though  not  exactly,  from 
some  of  Seneca's  tragedies. 

1  '  The  division  of  this  play  into  acts,  which  was  first  made  in 
the  folio  of  1623,  is  improper.  Tbete  is  here  an  interval  of  action, 
and  here  the  second  act  ou§\x\.  to  tane  fce^au,'-^- Johnson. 


That  all  the  court  may  echo  with  the  noise. 
Sons,  let  it  be  your  charge,  as  it  is  ours,  . 
To  tend  the  emperor's  person  carefully : 
I  have  been  troubled  in  my  sleep  this  night, 
But  dawning  day  new  comfort  hath  inspir'd. 

Horns  wind  a  Peal.  Enter  Saturninus,  Tamo- 
ra,  Bassianus,  Lavinia,  Chiron,  Deme- 
trius, and  Attendants. 

Tit,  Many  good  morrows  to  your  majesty;  — 
Madam,  to  you  as  many  and  as  good ! — 
I  promised  your  grace  a  hunter's  peal. 

Sat.  And  you  have  rung  it  lustily,  my  lords, 
Somewhat  too  early  for  new  married  ladies. 

Bos.  Lavinia,  how  say  you? 

Lav.  I  say,  no ; 

I  have  been  broad  awake  two  hours  and  more. 

Sat.  Come  on  then,  horse  and  chariots  let  us  have, 
And  to  our  sport : — Madam,  now  shall  ye  see 
Our  Roman  hunting.  [  !To  Tamora. 

Mar.  I  have  dogs,  my  lord, 

Will  rouse  the  proudest  panther  in  the  chase, 
And  climb  the  highest  promontory  top. 

Tit .  And  I  have  horse  will  follow  where  the  game 
Makes  way,  and  run  like  swallows  o'er  the  plain. 

Bern.  Chiron,  we  hunt  not,  we,  with  horse  nor 
But  hope  to  pluck  a  dainty  doe  to  ground. 


SCENE  III.     A  desert  Part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  A  A  RON,  with  a  Bag  of  Gold. 

Aar.  He,  that  had  wit,  would  think  that  I  had  none, 
To  bury  so  much  gold  under  a  tree, 
And  never  after  to  inherit1  it. 

1  i.  e.  possess.    See  vol.  i.  p.  152,  note  9. 



Let  him,  that  thinks  of  me  so  abjectly. 
Know,  that  this  gold  must  coin  a  stratagem; 
Which,  cunningly  effected,  will  beget 
A  very  excellent  piece  of  villany ; 
And  so  repose,  sweet  gold},  for  their  unrest, 

[Hides  the  Gold. 
That  have  their  alms  out  of  the  empress'  chest8. 

Enter  Tamora. 

Tarn.  My  lovely  Aaron,  wherefore  look'st  thou 

When  every  thing  doth  make  a  gleeful  boast? 
The  birds  chant  melody  on  every  bush; 
The  snake  lies  rolled  in  the  cheerful  sun ; 
The  green  leaves  quiver  with  the  cooling  wind, 
And  make  a  chequer'd  shadow  on  the  ground : 
Under  their  sweet  shade,  Aaron,  let  us  sit, 
And — whilst  the  babbling  echo  mocks  the  hounds, 
Replying  shrilly  to  the  well  tun'd  horns, 
As  if  a  double  hunt  were  heard  at  once, — 
Let  us  sit  down,  and  mark  their  yelling  noise : 
And — after  conflict,  such  as  was  suppos'd 
The  wandering  prince  and  Dido  once  enjoy 'd, 
When  with  a  happy  storm  they  were  surpris'd, 
And  curtain'd  with  a  counsel-keeping  cave, — 
We  may,  each  wreathed  in  the  other's  arms, 
Our  pastimes  done,  possess  a  golden  slumber ; 
Whiles  hounds,  and  horns,  and  sweet  melodious 

Be  unto  us,  as  is  a  nurse's  song 
Of  lullaby,  to  bring  her  babe  asleep. 

9  This  is  obscure.     It  seems  to  mean  only,  that  they  who  are 
to  come  at  this  gold  of  the  empress  are  to  suffer  by  it. 


3  Malone  remarks  that  there  is  much  poetical  beauty  in  this 
speech  of  Tamora ;  he  thinks  it  the  only  part  of  the  play  wbicb 
resembles  the  style  of  Staka^**™. 


Aar.  Madam,  though  Venus  govern  your  desires, 
Saturn  is  dominator  over  mine : 
What  signifies  my  deadly  standing  eye, 
My  silence,  and  my  cloudy  melancholy  ? 
My  fleece  of  woolly  hair  that  now  uncurls, 
Even  as  an  adder,  when  she  doth  unroll 
To  do  some  fatal  execution  ? 
No,  madam,  these  are  no  venereal  signs; 
Vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  death  in  my  hand, 
Blood  and  revenge  are  hammering  in  my  head. 
Hark,  Tamora, — the  empress  of  my  soul, 
Which  never  hopes  more  heaven  than  rests  in  thee, 
This  is  the  day  of  doom  for  Bassianus ; 
His  Philomel4  must  lose  her  tongue  to-day: 
Thy  sons  make  pillage  of  her  chastity, 
And  wash  their  hands  in  Bassianus"  blood. 
Seest  thou  this  letter  ?  take  it  up,  I  pray  thee, 
•And  give  the  king  this  fatal-plotted  scroll: — 
Now  question  me  no  mor£,  we  are  espied ; 
Here  comes  a  parcel5  of  our  hopeful  booty, 
Which  dreads  not  yet  their  lives'  destruction. 

Tarn.  Ah,  my  sweet  Moor,  sweeter  to  me  than 

Aar.  No  more,  great  empress,  Bassianus  comes : 
Be  cross  with  him ;  and  I'll  go  fetch  thy  sons 
To  back  thy  quarrels,  whatsoe'er  they  be.      [Exit. 

Enter  Bassianus  and  Lavinia. 

Bos.  Who  have  we  here  ?  Rome's  royal  emperess, 
Unfurnish'd  of  her  well  beseeming  troop  ? 
Or  is  it  Dian,  habited  like  her ; 
Who  hath  abandoned  her  holy  groves, 
To  see  the  general  hunting  in  this  forest? 

Tarn.  Saucy  controller  of  our  private  steps ! 

4  See  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  book  vi.  *  i.  e.  a  part. 



Had  I  the  power,  that,  some  say,  Dian  had, 
Thy  temples  should  be  planted  presently 
With  horns,  as  was  Actaeon's ;  and  the  hounds 
Should  drive  upon  thy  new  transformed  limbs, 
Unmannerly  intruder  as  thou  art ! 

Lav.  Under  your  patience,  gentle  emperess, 
Tis  thought  you  have  a  goodly  gift  in  horning; 
And  to  be  doubted,  that  your  Moor  and  you 
Are  singled  forth  to  try  experiments  : 
Jove  shield  your  husband  from  his  hounds  to-day ! 
Tis  pity,  they  should  take  him  for  a  stag. 

Ba&,  Believe  me,  queen,  your  swarth  Cimmerian0 
Doth  make  your  honour  of  his  body's  hue, 
Spotted,  detested,  and  abominable. 
Why  are  you  sequestered  from  all  your  train  ? 
Dismounted  from  your  snow-white  goodly  steed, 
And , wander'd  hither  to  an  obscure  plot, 
Accompanied  but  with  a  barbarous  Moor, 
If  foul  desire  had  not  conducted  you  ? 

Lav. ,  And,  being  intercepted  in  your  sport, 
Great  reason  that  my  noble  lord  be  rated 
For  sauciness. — I  pray  you,  let  us  hence, 
And  let  her  'joy  her  raven-colour'd  love ; 
This  valley  fits  the  purpose  passing  well. 

Bos,  The  king,  my  brother,  shall  have  note  of  this. 

Lav.  Ay,  for  these  slips  have  made  him  noted  long7 : 
Good  king !  to  be  so  mightily  abus'd ! 

Tarn.  Why  have  I  patience  to  endure  all  this? 

Enter  Chiron  and  Demetrius. 

Dem.  How  now,  dear  sovereign,  and  our  gracious 
Why  doth  your  highness  look  so  pale  and  wan  ? 

6  Swarth  is  dusky.    The  Moor  is  called  Cimmerian,,  from  the 
affinity  of  blackness  to  darkness. 

7  He  had  jet  been  married  bat  one  night.    The  true  reading 
may  be  '  made  tar,'  i.  e.  Tamor*. 


Tarn.  Have  I  not  reason,  think  you,  to  look  pale  ? 
These  two  have  'tic'd  me  hither  to  this  place, 
A  barren  detested  vale,  you  see,  it  is : 
The  trees,  though  summer,  yet  forlorn  and  lean, 
O'ercome  with  moss,  and  baleful  mistletoe. 
Here  never  shines  the  sun8,  here  nothing  breeds, 
Unless  the  nightly  owl,  or  fatal  raven. 
And,  when  they  show'd  me  this  abhorred  pit, 
They  told  me,  here,  at  dead  time  of  the  night, 
A  thousand  fiends,  a  thousand  hissing  snakes, 
Ten  thousand  swelling  toads,  as  many  urchins9, 
Would  make  such  fearful  and  confused  cries, 
As  any  mortal  body,  hearing  it, 
Should  straight  fall  mad,  or  else  die  suddenly10. 
No  sooner  had  they  told  this  hellish  tale, 
But  straight  they  told  me,  they  would  bind  me  here 
Unto  the  body  of  a  dismal  yew ; 
And  leave  me  to  this  miserable  death. 
And  then  they  call'd  me,  foul  adulteress, 
Lascivious  Goth,  and  all  the  bitterest  terms 
That  ever  ear  did  hear  to  such  effect. 
And,  had  you  not  by  wondrous  fortune  come, 
This  vengeance  on  me  had  they  executed : 
Revenge  it,  as  you  love  your  mother's  life, 
Or  be  ye  not  henceforth  call'd  my  children. 
Dem.  This  is  a  witness  that  I  am  thy  son. 

[Stabs  Bassianus. 

8  Rowe  seems  to  have  thought  on  this  passage  in  his  Jane 
Shore : — 

*  This  is  the  house  where  the  sun  never  dawns, 
The  bird  of  night  sits  screaming  o'er  its  roof, 
Grim  spectres  sweep  along  the  horrid  gloom, 
And  nought  is  heard  but  wailings  and  lamentings.' 

9  Hedgehogs. 

10  This  is  said  in  fabulous  physiology  of  those  that  hear  the 
jroan  of  the  mandrake  when  torn  up.  The  same  thought,  and 
tlmost  the  same  expression^  occur  in  Romeo  and  Juliet. 


Chi.  And  this  for  me,  struck  home  to  show  my 
strength.  [Stabbing  him  likewue. 

Lav.  Ay  come,  Semiramis11, — nay,  barbarous 
Tamora ! 
For  no  name  fits  thy  nature  but  thy  own ! 

Tarn.  Give  me  thy  poniard ;  you  shall  know,  my 
.  boys, 
Your  mother's  hand  shall  right  your  mother's  wrong. 

Dem.  Stay,  madam,  here  is  more  belongs  to  her; 
First,  thrash  the  corn,  then  after  burn  the  straw : 
This  minion  stood  upon  her  chastity, 
Upon  her  nuptial  vow,  her  loyalty, 
And  with  that  painted  hope 1 2  braves  your  mightiness : 
And  shall  she  carry  this  unto  her  grave  ? 

Chi.  An  if  she  do,  I  would  I  were  an  eunuch. 
Drag  hence  her  husband  to  some  secret  hole, 
And  make  his  dead  trunk  pillow  to  our  lust. 

Tarn.  But  when  you  have  the  honey  you  desire, 
Let  not  this  wasp  outlive,  us  both  to  sting. 

Chi.  I  warrant  you,  madam;  we  will  make  that 
sure. — 
Come,  mistress,  now  perforce,  we  will  enjoy 
That  nice-preserved  honesty  of  yours. 

Lav.  O  Tamora !  thou  bear'st  a  woman's  face, — 

Tarn.  I  will  not  hear  her  speak ;  away  with  her. 

Lav.  Sweet  lords,  entreat  her  hear  me  but  a  word. 

Dem.  Listen,  fair  madam :  Let  it  be  your  glory 
To  see  her  tears :  but  be  your  heart  to  them, 
As  unrelenting  flint  to  drops  of  rain. 

11  The  propriety  of  this  address  will  be  best  understood  by 
consulting  Pliny's  Nat.  Hist.  ch.  42.  The  incontinence  of  Semi- 
ramis has  been  already  alluded  to  in  the  Induction  to  The 
Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Sc.  ii. 

12  Painted  hope  is  only  specious  hope,  or  ground  of  confidence 
more  plausible  than  solid.  Steevens  thought  that  the  word  hope 
was  interpolated,  the  sense  being  complete  and  the  line  more 
harmonious  without  it. 


Lav.  When  did  the  tiger's  young  ones  teach  the 
0,  do  not  learn  her  wrath ;  she  taught  it  thee : 
The  milk,  thou  suck'dst  from  her,  did  turn  to  marble; 
Even  at  thy  teat  thou  hadst  thy  tyranny. — 
Yet  every  mother  breeds  not  sons  alike; 
Bo  thou  entreat  her  shew  a  woman  pity. 

[To  Chiron. 
Chi.  What!  would'st  thou  have  me  prove  myself 

a  bastard  ? 
Lav.  Tis  true;  the  raven  doth  not  hatch  a  lark: 
Yet  I  have  heard  (O  could  I  find  it  now !) 
The  lion  mov'd  with  pity,  did  endure 
To  have  his  princely  paws  par'd  all  away. 
Some  say  that  ravens  foster  forlorn  children, 
The  whilst  their  own  birds  famish  in  their  nests : 
0,  be  to  me,  though  thy  hard  heart  say  no, 
Nothing  so  kind,  but  something  pitiful ! 
Tarn.  I  know  not  what  it  means ;  away  with  her. 
Lav.  O,  let  me  teach  thee :  for  my  father's  sake, 
That  gave  thee  life,  when  well  he  might  have  slain 

Be  not  obdurate,  open  thy  deaf  ears. 

Tarn.  Had  thou  in  person  ne'er  offended  me, 
Even  for  his  sake  am  I  pitiless : — 
Remember,  boys,  I  pour'd  forth  tears  in  vain, 
To  save  your  brother  from  the  sacrifice ; 
But  fierce  Andronicus  would  not  relent. 
Therefore  away  with  her,  and  use  her  as  you  will ; 
The  worse  to  her,  the  better  lov'd  of  me. 

Lav.  O  Tamora,  be  call'd  a  gentle  queen, 
And  with  thine  own  hands  kill  me  in  this  place : 
For  'tis  not  life,  that  I  have  begg'd  so  long; 
Poor  I  was  slain,  when  Bassianus  died. 

Tarn.  What  begg'st  thou  then;  fond  woman,  let 
me  go. 



Lav.  Tis  present  death  I  beg;  and  one  thing  more, 
That  womanhood  denies  my  tongue  to  tell : 
O,  keep  me  from  their  worse  than  killing  last, 
And  tumble  me  into  some  loathsome  pit ; 
Where  never  man's  eye  may  behold  my  body : 
Do  this,  and  be  a  charitable  murderer. 

Tarn.  So  should  I  rob  my  sweet  sons  of  their  fee : 
No,  let  them  satisfy  their  lust  on  thee. 

Bern.  Away,  for  thou  hast  staid  us  here  too  long. 
Lav.  No  grace  ?  no  womanhood  ?    Ah,  beastly 
creature ! 
The  blot  and  enemy  to  our  general  name ! 

Confusion  fall 

Chi.  Nay,  then  I'll  stop  your  mouth: — Bring 
thou  her  husband : 

[Dragging  off  Lavinia. 
This  is  the  hole  where  Aaron  bid  us  hide  him. 

Tarn.  Farewell,  my  sons ;  see  that  you  make  her 
Ne'er  let  my  heart  know  merry  cheer  indeed, 
Till  all  the  Andronici  be  made  away. 
Now  will  I  hence  to  seek  my  lovely  Moor, 
,  And  let  my  spleenful  sons  this  trull  deflower.  [Exit. 

SCENE  IV.     The  same. 

Enter  Aaron,  with  Quintus  and  Martius. 

Aar.  Come  on,  my  lords ;  the  better  foot  before : 
Straight  will  I  bring  you  to  the  loathsome  pit, 
Where  1  espy'd  the  panther  fast  asleep. 

Quin.  My  sight  is  very  dull,  whate'er  it  bodes. 
Mart.  And  mine,  I  promise  you ;  wer't  not  for 
Well  could  I  leave  our  sport  to  sleep  awhile. 

[MARTius/a/&  into  the  Pit. 


Quin.  What,  art  thou  fallen?  What  subtle  hole  is 
Vhose  mouth  is  cover'd  with  rude-growing  briars ; 
Jpon  whose  leaves  are  drops  of  new-shed  blood, 
Vs  fresh  as  morning's  dew  distill'd  on  flowers  ? 
1  very  fatal  place  it  seems  to  me : — 
Speak,  brother,  hast  thou  hurt  thee  with  the  fall  ? 

Mart.  O,  brother,  with  the  dismall'st  object  hurt 
[hat  ever  eye,  with  sight,  made  heart  lament. 

Aar.  [Aside.]  Now  will  I  fetch  the  king  to  find 
them  here : 
'hat  he  thereby  may  give  a  likely  guess, 
low  these  were  they  that  made  away  his  brother. 

[Exit  Aaron. 

Mart.  Why  dost  not  comfort  me,  and  help  me  out 
'rom  this  unhaltow'd  and  blood-stained  hole  ? 

Quin.  I  am  surprised  with  an  uncouth  fear : 
L  chilling  sweat  o'erruns  my  trembling  joints ; 
fy  heart  suspects  more  than  mine  eye  can  see. 

Mart.  To  prove  thou  hast  a  true  divining  heart, 
Laron  and  thou  look  down  into  this  den, 
Lnd  see  a  fearful  sight  of  blood  and  death. 

Quin.  Aaron  is  gone ;  and  my  compassionate  heart 
rill  not  permit  mine  eyes  once  to  behold 
lie  thing,  whereat  it  trembles  by  surmise : 
>,  tell  me  how  it  is;  for  ne'er  till  now 
Vsls  I  a  child,  to  fear  I  know  not  what. 

Mart.  Lord  Bassianus  lies  embrewed  here, 
ill  on  a  heap  like  to  a  slaughter'd  lamb, 
n  this  detested,  dark,  blood-drinking  pit. 

Quin.  If  it  be  dark,  how  dost  thou  know  'tis  he? 

Mart.  Upon  his  bloody  finger  he  doth  wear 
i  precious  ring,  that  lightens  all  the  hole1, 

1  Old  naturalists  assert  that  there  is  a  gem  called  a  car- 
uncle, which  emits  not  reflected  bat  native  light.  Bo  vie  be- 
eved  in  the  reality  of  its  existence.     It  is  often  alluded  to  uv 

102  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.        •     ACT  II. 

Which,  like  a  taper  in  some  monument,  ( 

Doth  shine  upon  the  dead  man's  earthy  cheeks,        F- 
And  shows  the  ragged  entrails  of  this  pit :  ^ 

So  pale  did  shine  the  moon  on  Pyramus, 
When  he  by  night  lay  bath'd  in  maiden  blood. 

0  brother,  help  me  with  thy  fainting  hand, — 
If  fear  hath  made  thee  faint,  as  me  it  hath, — 
Out  of  this  fell  devouring  receptacle, 
As  hateful  as  Cocytus'  misty  mouth. 

Quin.  Reach  me  thy  hand,  that  I  may  help  thee  out; 
Or,  wanting  strength  to  do  thee  so  much  good, 

1  may  be  pluck'd  into  the  swallowing  womb 
Of  this  deep  pit,  poor  Bassianus'  grave. 
I  have  no  strength  to  pluck  thee  to  the  brink. 

Mar.  Nor  I  no  strength  to  chmb  without  thy  help. 

Qmit.Thy  hand  once  more;  I  will  not  loose  again, 
Till  thou  art  here  aloft,  or  I  below: 
Thou  canst  not  come  to  me,  I  come  to  thee. 

[Falls  in. 

Enter  Saturninus  and  Aaron. 

Sat.  Along  with  me : — I'll  see  what  hole  is  here. 
And  what  he  is,  that  now  is  leap'd  into  it. 
Say,  who  art  thou,  that  lately  didst  descend 
Into  this  gaping  hollow  of  the  earth? 

Mart.  The  unhappy  son  of  old  Andronicus ; 
Brought  hither  in  a  most  unlucky  hour, 
To  find  thy  brother  Bassianus  dead. 

ancient  fable.  Thus  in  The  Gesta  Romanoram : — '  He  farther 
beheld  and  saw  a  carbuncle  that  lighted  all  the  house.7  And 
Drayton  in  The  Muse's  Elysium : — 

'  Is  that  admired  mighty  stone, 

The  carbuncle  that's  named ; 

Which  from  it  such  a  flaming  light 

And  radiancy  ejecteth, 

That  in  the  very  darkest  night 

The  eye  to  it  directeth. 


Sat.  My  brother  dead?  I  know,  thou  dost  bat  jest: 
le  and  his  lady  both  are  at  the  lodge, 
Tpon  the  north  side  of  this  pleasant  chase ; 
Tis  not  an  hour  since  I  left  him  there. 

Mart.  We  know  not  where  you 'left  him  all  alive, 
3ut,  out  alas !  here  have  we  found  him  dead. 

Otter  Tamora,  with  Attendants;  Titus  An- 
dronicus,  and  Lucius. 

7am.  Where  is  my  lord,  the  king? 

Sat.  Here,  Tamora ;  though  griev'd  with  killing 

Tarn.  Where  is  thy  brother  Bassianus? 

Sat.   Now  to  the  bottom  dost  thou  search  my 

wound ; 
'oor  Bassianus  here  lies  murdered. 

Tarn.  Then  all  too  late  I  bring  this  fatal  writ. 

[Giving  a  Letter. 
be  complot  of  this  timeless2  tragedy; 
nd  wonder  greatly,  that  man's  face  can  fold 
t  pleasing  smiles  such  murderous  tyranny. 

Sat.  [Reads.]  An  if  we  miss  to  meet  him  hand- 
somely,—  % 
oeet  huntsman,  Bassianus  9tis,  we  mean, — 
o  thou  so  much  as  dig  the  grave  for  him ; 
hou  know9 st  our  meaning:  Look  for  thy  reward 
mong  the  nettles  at  the  elder  tree, 
lack  overshades  the  mouth  of  that  same  pit, 
rhere  we  decreed  to  bury  Bassianus. 
o  this,  and  purchase  us  thy  lusting  friends. 
,  Tamora  !  was  ever  heard  the  like  ? 
lis  is  the  pit,  and  this  the  elder  tree : 

2  i.  e.  untimely.    So  in  King  Richard  II.: — 

'  The  bloody  office  of  his  timeless  end.' 
VOL.  IX.  S 


Look,  sirs,  if  you  can  find  the  huntsman  out, 
That  should  have  murder'd  Bassianus  here. 

Aar.  My  gracious  lord,  here  is  the  bag  of  gold. 

[Showing  ti- 

Sat.  Two  of  thy  whelps,  [To  Tit.]  fell  curs  of 
bloody  kind, 
Have  here  bereft  my  brother  of  his  life : — 
Sirs,  drag  them  from  the  pit  unto  the  prison ; 
There  let  them  bide,  until  we  have  devis'd 
Some  never-heard-of  torturing  pain  for  them. 

Tarn.  What,  are  they  in  this  pit?  O  wondrous 
How  easily  murder  is  discovered ! 

Tit.  High  emperor,  upon  my  feeble  knee 
I  beg  this  boon,  with  tears  not  lightly  shed, 
That  this  fell  fault  of  my  accursed  sons, 
Accursed,  if  the  fault  be  prov'd  in  them, 

Sat.  If  it  be  prov'd !  you  see,  it  is  apparent.— 
Who  found  this  letter?  Tamora,  was  it  you? 

Tarn.  Andronicus  himself  did  take  it  up. 

Tit.  I  did,  my  lord :  yet  let  me  be  tfieir  bail : 
For  by  my  father's  reverend  tomb,  I  vow, 
They  shall  be  ready  at  your  highness'  will, 
To  answer  their  suspicion  with  their  lives. 

Sat.   Thou  shalt  not  bail  them :   see,  thou  fol- 
low me. 
Some  bring  the  murder'd  body,  some  the  murderers : 
Let  them  not  speak  a  word,  the  guilt  is  plain ; 
For,  by  my  soul,  were  there  worse  end  than  death, 
That  end  upon  them  should  be  executed. 

Tarn.  Andronicus,  I  will  entreat  the  king; 
Fear  not  thy  sons,  they  shall  do  well. enough. 

Tit.  Come,  Lucius,  come :  stay  not  to  talk  with 
them.  [Exeunt  severally- 


SCENE  V.     The  same. 

Enter  Demetrius  and  Chiron,  with  Lavinia, 
ravished;  Iter  Hands  cut  off,  and  her  Tongue  cut 


Bern.  So  now  go  tell,  an  if  thy  tongue  can  speak, 
Who  'twas  that  cut  thy  tongue,  and  ravished  thee. 
Chi.  Write  down  thy  mind,  bewray  thy  mean- 
ing so; 
And,  if  thy  stumps  will  let  thee,  play  the  scribe. 
Bern.  See,  how  with  signs  and  tokens  she  can 

Chi.  Go  home,  call  for  sweet  water,  wash  thy 


Bern.  She  hath  no  tongue  to  call,  nor  hands  to  wash : 

4nd  so  let's  leave  her  to  her  silent  walks. 

Chi.  An  'twere  my  case,  I  should  go  hang  myself. 

Bern.  If  thou  hadst  hands  to  help  thee  knit  the  cord* 

[Exeunt  Demetrius  and  Chiron. 

Enter  Marcus. 

Mar.  Who's  this, — my  niece,  that  flies  away  so 

fast  ? 
ousin,  a  word ;  Where  is  your  husband  ? — 
'I  do  dream,  would  all  my  wealth  would  wake  me 1 ! 
'  I  do  wake,  some  planet  strike  me  down, 
hat  I  may  slumber  in  eternal  sleep ! — 
peak,  gentle  niece,  what  stern  ungentle  hands 
Save  lopp'd,  and  hew'd,  and  made  thy  body  bare 
f  her  two  branches  ?  those  sweet  ornaments, 
f  hose  circling  shadows  kings  have  sought  to  sleep  in; 
nd  might  not  gain  so  great  a  happiness, 
s  half  thy  love  ?  Why  dost  not  speak  to  me  ? — 

1  '  If  this  be  a  dream,  I  would  give  all  my  possessions  to  be 
livered  from  it  by  waking/ 



Alas,  a  crimson  river  of  warm  blood, 

like  to  a  bubbling  fountain  stirr'd  with  wind, 

Doth  rise  and  fall  between  thy  rosed  lips, 

Coming  and  going  with  thy  honey  breath. 

But,  sure,  some  Tereus  hath  deflour'd  thee; 

And,  lest  thou  should'st  detect  him,  cut  thy  tongue. 

Ah,  now  thou  turn'st  away  thy  face  for  shame ! 

And,  notwithstanding  all  this  loss  of  blood, — 

As  from  a  conduit  with  three  issuing  spouts, — 

Yet  do  thy  cheeks  look  red  as  Titan's  face, 

Blushing  to  be  encountered  with  a  cloud. 

Shall  I  speak  for  thee  ?  shall  I  say,  'tis  so  ? 

O,  that  I  knew  thy  heart;  and  knew  the  beast, 

That  I  might  rail  at  him  to  ease  my  mind  ! 

Sorrow  concealed,  like  an  oven  stopp'd, 

Doth  burn  the  heart  to  cinders  where  it  is. 

Fair  Philomela,  she  but  lost  her  tongue, 

And  in  a  tedious  sampler  sew'd  her  mind ; 

But,  lovely  niece,  that  mean  is  cut  from  thee; 

A  craftier  Tereus,  cousin,  hast  thou  met, 

And  he  hath  cut  those  pretty  fingers  off, 

That  could  have  better  sew'd  than  Philomel. 

O,  had  the  monster  seen  those  lily  hands 

Tremble,  like  aspen  leaves,  upon  a  lute, 

And  make  the  silken  strings  delight  to  kiss  them; 

He  would  not  then  have  touch'd  them  for  his  life: 

Or,  had  he  heard  the  heavenly  harmony, 

Which  that  sweet  tongue  hath  made, 

He  would  have  dropp'd  his  knife,  and  fell  asleep, 

As  Cerberus  at  the  Thracian  poet's  feet. 

Come,  let  us  go,  and  make  thy  father  blind : 

For  such  a  sight  will  blind  a  father's  eye : 

One  hour's  storm  will  drown  the  fragrant  meads ; 

What  will  whole  months  of  tears  thy  father's  eyes? 

Do  not  draw  back,  for  we  will  mourn  with  thee; 

O,  could  our  mourning  ease  thy  misery?     [Exeunt. 



SCENE  I.    Rome.     .4  Street. 

Enter  Senators,  Tribunes,  and  Officers  of  Justice, 
with  Marti  us  and  Quintus,  bound,  passing  on 
to  the  Place  of  Execution:  Titus  going  before^ 

Tit.  Hear  me,  grave  fathers !  noble  tribunes,  stay ! 
?or  pity  of  mine  age,  whose  youth  was  spent 
n  dangerous  wars,  whilst  you  securely  slept; 
"or  all  my  blood  in  Rome's  great  quarrel  shed; 
?or  all  the  frosty  nights  that  I  have  watch'd ; 
Vnd  for  these  bitter  tears,  which  now  you  see 
billing  the  aged  wrinkles  in  my  cheeks; 
3e  pitiful  to  my  condemned  sons, 
'Vhose  souls  are  not  corrupted  as  'tis  thought ! 
?or  two  and  twenty  sons  1  never  wept, 
because  they  died  in  honour's  lofty  bed. 
7or  these,  good  tribunes,  in  the  dust  I  write 

[Throwing  himself  on  the  Ground. 
fly  heart's  deep  languor,  and  my  soul's  sad  tears. 
jet  my  tears  stanch  the  earth's  dry  appetite ; 
Hy  sons'  sweet  blood  will  make  it  shame  and  blush, 
[Exeunt  Senators,  Tribunes,  Sfc.  with  the 
)  earth,  I  will  befriend  thee  more  with  rain, 
That  shall  distil  from  these  two  ancient  urns1, 
Phan  youthful  April  shall  with  all  his  showers : 
n  summer's  drought,  I'll  drop  upon  thee  still ; 
n  winter,  with  warm  tears  I'll  melt  the  snow, 

1  The  old  copies  read, '  two  ancient  rimes.'     The  emendation 
s  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer. 



And  keep  eternal  spring-time  on  thy  face, 
So  thou  refuse  to  drink  my  dear  sons'  blood. 

Enter  Lucius,  with  his  Sword  drawn. 

O,  reverend  tribunes !  gentle  aged  men ! 
Unbind  my  sons,  reverse  the  doom  of  death; 
And  let  me  say  that  never  wept  before, 
My  tears  are  now  prevailing  orators. 

Luc.  O,  noble  father,  you  lament  in  vain; 
The  tribunes  hear  you  not,  no  man  is  by, 
And  you  recount  your  sorrows  to  a  stone. 

Tit.  Ah,  Lucius,  for  thy  brothers  let  me  plead: 
Grave  tribunes,  once  more  I  entreat  of  you. 

Luc.  My  gracious  lord,  no  tribune  hears  you  speak. 

Tit.  Why,  'tis  no  matter,  man :  or  if  they  did  mark, 
They  would  not  pity  me;  yet  plead  I  must, 
All  bootless  unto  them. 
Therefore  I  tell  my  sorrows  to  the  stones ; 
Who,  though  they  cannot  answer  my  distress, 
Yet  in  some  sort  they're  better  than  the  tribunes, 
For  that  they  will  not  intercept  my  tale : 
When  I  do  weep,  they  humbly  at  my  feet 
Receive  my  tears,  and  seem  to  weep  with  me; 
And,  were  they  but  attired  in  graVe  weeds, 
Home  could  afford  no  tribune  like  to  these. 
A  stone  is  soft  as  wax,  tribunes  more  hard  than  stones : 
A  stone  is  silent,  and  offendeth  not; 
And  tribunes  with  their  tongues  doom  men  to  death. 
But  wherefore  stand'st  thou  with  thy  weapon  drawn? 

Luc.  To  rescue  my  two  brothers  from  their  death: 
For  which  attempt,  the  judges  have  pronounc'd 
My  everlasting  doom  of  banishment. 

Tit.  O  happy  man !  they  have  befriended  thee. 
Why,  foolish  Lucius,  dost  thou  not  perceive, 
That  Rome  is  but  a  wilderness  of  tigers? 
Tigers  must  prey;  and  Rome  affords  no  prey, 


it  me  and  mine :  How  happy  art  thou  then, 

om  these  devourers  to  be  banished? 

it  who  comes  with  our  brother  Marcus  here  ? 

Enter  Marcus  and  Lavinia. 

Mar.  Titus,  prepare  thy  aged  eyes  to  weep; 

,  if  not  so,  thy  noble  heart  to  break ; 

ring  consuming  sorrow  to  thine  age. 

Tit.  Will  it  consume  me?  let  me  see  it  then. 

Mar.  This  was  thy  daughter. 

Tit.  Why,  Marcus,  so  she  is. 

Luc.  Ah  me !  this  object  kills  me  1 

Fit.  Faint-hearted  boy,  arise,  and  look  upon  her : — 

iky  my  Lavinia,  what  accursed  hand 

th  made  thee  handless  in  thy  father's  sight? 

tat  fool  hath  added  water  to  the  sea? 

brought  a  faggot  to  bright  burning  Troy  ? 

grief  was  at  the  height  before  thou  cam'st, 
1  now,  like  Nilus,  it  disdaineth  bounds. — 
e  me  a  sword,  Flf  chop  off  my  hands  too ; 

they  have  fought  for  Rome,  and  all  in  vain ; 
1  they  hare  nurs'd  this  woe,  in  feeding  life ; 
>ootless  prayer  have  they  been  held  up, 
1  they  have  serv'd  me  to  effectless  use ; 
n,  all  the  service  I  require  of  them 
that  the  one  will  help  to  cut  the  other. — 

well,  Lavinia,  that  thou  hast  no  hands ; 
hands,  to  do  Rome  service,  are  but  vain. 
uc.  Speak,  gentle  sister,  who  hath  martyr'dthee? 
Tar.  O,  that  delightful  engine  of  her  thoughts2, 
t  blabb'd  them  with  such  pleasing  eloquence, 
3rn  from  forth  that  pretty  hollow  cage :       ' 

'his  piece  famishes  scarce  any  resemblances  to  Shakspeare's 
s ;  this  one  expression,  however,  is  found  in  his  Venus  and 

is  :• 

'  Once  more  the  engine  of  her  thoughts  began/ 

200  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  ACT  III.      }- 

Where,  like  a  sweet  melodious  bird,  it  sung 
Sweet  varied  notes,  enchanting  every  ear  i 

Luc.  O,  say  thou  for  her,  who  hath  done  this  deed? 

Mar.  O,  thus  I  found  her,  straying  in  the  park, 
Seeking  to  hide  herself,  as  doth  the  deer, 
That  hath  received  some  unrecuring  wound. 

Tit.  It  was  my  deer;  and  he,  that  wounded  her, 
Hath  hurt  me  more,  than  had  he  kill'd  me  dead: 
For  now  I  stand  as  one  upon  a  rock, 
Environ'd  with  a  wilderness  of  sea; 
Who  marks  the  waxing  tide  grow  wave  by  wave, 
Expecting  ever  when  some  envious  surge 
Will  in  his  brinish  bowels  swallow  him. 
This  way  to  death  my  wretched  sons  are  gone ; 
Here  stands  my  other  son,  a  banish'd  man ; 
And  here,  my  brother,  weeping  at  my  woes ; 
But  that,  which  gives  my  soul  the  greatest  spurn,  t 
Is  dear  Lavinia,  dearer  than  my  soul. —   . 
Had  I  but  seen  thy  picture  in  this  plight, 
It  would  have  madded  me ;  What  shall  I  do 
Now  I  behold  thy  lively  body  so  ? 
Thou  hast  no  hands,  to  wipe  away  thy  tears; 
Nor  tongue,  to  tell  me  who  hath  martyr'd  thee : 
Thy  husband  he  is  dead :  and,  for  his  death, 
Thy  brothers  are  condemned,  and  dead  by  this:— 
Look,  Marcus!  ah,  sou  Lucius,  look  on  her: 
When  I  did  name  her  brothers,  then  fresh  tears 
Stood  on  her  cheeks ;  as  doth  the  honey  dew 
Upon  a  gather'd  lily  almost  wither'd. 

Mar.  Perchance,  she  weeps  because  they  kill'd 
her  husband : 
Perchance,  because  she  knows  them  innocent. 

Tit.  If  they  did  kill  thy  husband*  then  be  joyful, 
Because  the  law  hath  ta'en  revenge  on  them. — 
No,  no,  they  would  not  do  so  foul  a  deed; 
Witness  the  sorrow  that  their  sister  makes. — 


lie  Lavinia,  let  me  kiss  thy  lips ; 

aake  some  sign  how  I  may  do  thee  ease: 

1  thy  good  uncle,  and  thy  brother  Lucius, 

thou,  and  I,  sit  round  about  some  fountain ; 
king  all  downwards,  to  behold  our  cheeks 
v  they  are  stain'd  ?  like  meadows,  yet  not  dry 
h  miry  slime  left  on  them  by  a  flood? 
1  in  the  fountain  shall  we  gaze  so  long, 
the  fresh  taste  be  taken  from  that  clearness, 
I  made  a  brine  pit  with  our  bitter  tears  ? 
(hall  we  cut  away  our  hands,  like  thine  ? 
ihall  we  bite  our  tongues,  and  in  dumb  shows 
s  the  remainder  xrf  our  hateful  days  ? 
at  shall  we  do  ?  let  us,  that  have  our  tongues, 
t  some  device  of  further  misery, 
nake  us  wonder'd  at  in  time  to  come, 
lie.  Sweet  father,  cease  your  tears ;  for,  at  your 

,  how  my  wretched  sister  sobs  and  weeps. 
far.  Patience,  dear  niece: — good  Titus,  dry 

thine  eyes. 
Ti*.  Ah,  Marcus,  Marcus !  brother  well  I  wot, 

napkin  cannot  drink  a  tear  of  mine, 
thou,  poor  man,  hast  drown'd  it  with  thine  own. 
uc.  Ah,  my  Lavinia,  I  will  wipe  thy  cheeks. 
\t.  Mark,  Marcus,mark !  I  understand  her  signs : 
1  she  a  tongue  to  speak,  now  would  she  say 
t  to  her  brother  which  I  said  to  thee ; 

napkin  with  his  true  tears  all  be  wet, 

do  no  service  on  her  sorrowful  cheeks, 
vhat  a  sympathy  of  woe  is  this ! 
far  from  help  as  limbo  3  is  from  bliss ! 

rhe  IAmbus  patrum,  as  it  was  called,  is  a  place  that  the 
)lmen  supposed  to  be  in  the  neighbourhood  of  hell,  where 
ouls  of  the  patriarchs  were  detained,  and  those  good  men 
died  before  oar  Saviour's  resurrection.  Milton  gives  the 
of  Limbo  to  his  Paradise  of  Fools. 



Enter  Aaron. 

Aar.  Titus  Andronicus,  my  lord  the  emperor 
Sends  thee  this  word, — That,  if  thou  love  thy  sons,    | 
Let  Mart  us,  Lucius,  or  thyself,  old  Titus, 
Or  any  one  of  you,  chop  off  your  hand, 
And  send  it  to  the  king :  he,  for  the  same, 
Will  send  thee  hither  both  thy  sons  alive ; 
And  that  shall  be  the  ran  some  for  their  fault. 

Tit.  O,  gracious  emperor!  O,  gentle  Aaron! 
Did  ever  raven  sing  so  like  a  lark, 
That  gives  sweet  tidings  of  the  sun's  uprise? 
With  all  my  heart,  I'll  send  the  emperor 
My  hand : 
Good  Aaron,  wilt  thou  help  to  chop  it  off? 

Luc.  Stay,  father ;  for  that  noble  hand  of  thine, 
That  hath  thrown  down  so  many  enemies, 
Shall  not  be  sent:  my  hand  will  serve  the  turn : 
My  youth  can  better  spare  my  blood  than  you : 
And  therefore  mine  shall  savje  my  brothers'  lives. 

Mar.  Which  of  your  hands  hath  not  defended 
And  rear'd  aloft  the  bloody  battleaxe, 
Writing  destruction  on  the  enemy's  castle4? 
O,  none  of  both  but  are  of  high  desert : 
My  hand  hath  been  but  idle ;  let  it  serve 
To  ransome  my  two  nephews  from  their  death; 
Then  have  I  kept  it  to  a  worthy  end. 

Aar.  Nay,   come  agree,  whose  hand  shall  go 
For  fear  they  die  Jbefore  their  pardon  come. 

Mar.  My  hand  shall  go. 

Luc.  By  heaven,  it  shall  not  go. 

4  It  appears  from  Grose  on  Antient  Armour,  that  a  castle  was 
a  kind  of  close  helmet,  probably  so  named  from  casquetel,  old 
French.     See  vol.  *vii.  p.  444,  note  23. 


Tit.  Sirs,  strive  no  more ;  such  withered  herbs  as 
Ire  meet  for  plucking  up,  and  therefore  mine. 

Luc.  Sweet  father,  if  I  shall  be  thought  thy  son, 
M  me  redeem  my  brothers  both  from  death. 

Mar.  And,  for  our  father's  sake,  and  mother's  care, 
^ow  let  me  show  a  brother's  lore  to  thee. 

Tit.  Agree  between  you;  I  will  spare  my  hand. 

Luc.  Then  I'll  go  fetch  an  axe. 

Mar.  But  I  will  use  the  axe. 

[Exeunt  Lucius  and  Marcus. 

Tit.  Come  hither,  Aaron ;  I'll  deceive  them  both ; 
/end  me  thy  hand,  and  I  will  give  thee  mine. 

Aar.  If  that  be  call'd  deceit,  I  will  be  honest, 
Lnd  never,  whilst  I  live,  deceive  men  so : — 
tut  I'll  deceive  yon  in  another  sort, 
ind  that  you'll  say,  ere  half  an  hour  can  pass.  [Aside'. 

[He  cuts  off  Titus's  Hand. 

Enter  Lucius  and  Marcus. 

Tit.   Now,  stay  your  strife:  what  shall  be,  is 

despatch'd. — 
ood  Aaron,  give  his  majesty  my  hand: 
ell  him  it  was  a  hand  that  warded  him 
rom  thousand  dangers;  bid  him  bury  it; 
'ore  hath  it  merited,  that  let  it  have. 
s  for  my  sons,  say,  I  account  of  them 
s  jewels  purchas'd  at  an  easy  price ; 
nd  yet  dear  too,  because  I  bought  mine  own. 
Aar.  I  go,  Andronicus :  and  for  thy  hand, 
>ok  by  and  by  to  have  thy  sons  with  thee : — 
leir  heads,  I  mean. — O,  how  this  villany  [Aside. 
oth  fat  me  with  the  very  thoughts  of  it ! 
it  fools  do  good,  and  fair  men  call  for  grace, 
aron  will  have  his  soul  black  like  his  face.  [Exit. 
Tit.  O,  here  I  lift  this  one  hand  up  to  heaven, 


And  bow  this  feeble  ruin  to  the  earth : 
If  any  power  pities  wretched  tears, 
To  that  I  call : — What,  wilt  thou  kneel  with  me? 

[To  Lavinia. 
Do  then,  dear  heart;  for  heaven  shall  hear  our 

prayers ; 
Or  with  our  sighs  we'll  breathe  the  welkin  dim, 
And  stain  the  sun  with  fog,  as  sometime  clouds, 
When  they  do  hug  him  in  their  melting  bosoms. 

Mar.  O !  brother,  speak  with  possibilities, 
And  do  not  break  into  these  deep  extremes. 

Tit.  Is  not  my  sorrow  deep,  having  no  bottom? 
Then  be  my  passions  bottomless  with  them. 

Mar.  But  yet  let  reason  govern  thy  lament. 

Tit.  If  there  were  reason  for  these  miseries, 
Then  into  limits  could  I  bind  my  woes : 
When  heaven  doth  weep,  doth  not  the  earth  o'erflow? 
If  the  winds  rage,  doth  not  the  sea  wax  mad, 
Threat'ning  the  welkin  with  his  big-swoln  face  ? 
And  wilt  thou  have  a  reason  for  this  coil  ? 
I. am  the  sea;  hark,  how  her  sighs  do  blow: 
She  is  the  weeping  welkin,  I  the  earth : 
Then  must  my  sea  be  moved  with  her  sighs ; 
Then  must  my  earth  with  her  continual  tears 
Become  a  deluge,  overflowM  and  drown'd : 
Tor  why?  my  bowels  cannot  hide  her  woes, 
But  like  a  drunkard  must  I  vomit  them. 
Then  give  me  leave;  for  losers  will  have  leave 
To  ease  their  stomachs  with  their  bitter  tongues. 

Enter  a  Messenger,  with  Two  Heads  and  a  Hand. 

Mess.  Worthy  Andronicus,  ill  art  thou  repaid 
For  that  good  hand  thou  sent'st  the  emperor. 
Here  are  the  heads  of  thy  two  noble  sons ; 
And  here's  thy  hand,  in  scorn  to  thee  sent  back ; 
Thy  griefs  their  sports,  thy  resolution  mock'd: 



That  woe  is  me  to  think  upon  thy  woes, 
More  than  remembrance  of  my  father's  death. 

Mar.  Now  let  hot  iEtna  cool  in  Sicily, 
And  be  my  heart  an  ever  burning  hell ! 
These  miseries  are  more  than  may  be  borne ! 
To  weep  with  them  that  weep  doth  ease  some  deal, 
But  sorrow  flouted  at  is  double  death. 
Luc.  Ah,  that  this  sight  should  make  so  deep  a 
And  yet  detested  life  not  shrink  thereat ! 
That  ever  death  should  let  life  bear  his  name, 
Where  life  hath  no  more  interest  but  to  breathe ! 

[Lav ini A  kisses  him. 
Mar.  Alas,  poor  heart,  that  kiss  is  comfortless, 
As  frozen  water  to  a  starved  snake. 

Tit.  When  will  this  fearful  slumber  have  an  end? 
Mar.  Now,  farewell,  flattery :  Die,  Andronicus ; 
Thou  dost  not  slumber:  see,  thy  two  sons'  heads;. 
Thy  warlike  hand :  thy  mangled  daughter  here ; 
Thy  other  banish'd  son,  with  this  dear  sight 
Struck  pale  and  bloodless ;  and  thy  brother,  I, 
Even  like  a  stony  image,  cold  and  numb. 
-Ah !  now  no  more  will  I  control  thy  griefs : 
Itent  off  thy  silver  hair,  thy  other  hand 
Gnawing  with  thy  teeth ;  and  be  this  dismal  sight 
The  closing  up  of  our  most  wretched  eyes ! 
INow  is  a  time  to  storm;  why  art  thou  still? 
Tit.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 
Mar.  Why  dost  thou  laugh?  it  fits  not  with  this 

Tit.  Why,  I  have  not  another  tear  to  shed : 
Besides  this  sorrow  is  an  enemy, 
And  would  usurp  upon  my  watry  eyes, 
And  make  them  blind  with  tributary  tears ; 

VOL.  IX.  T 


Then  which  way  shall  I  find  revenge's  cave? 
For  these  two  heads  do  seem  to  speak  to  me; 
And  threat  me,  I  shall  never  come  to  bliss, 
Till  all  these  mischiefs  be  returned  again, 
Even  in  their  throats  that  have  committed  them. 
Come,  let  me  see  what  task  I  have  to  do. — 
You  heavy  people,  circle  me  about; 
That  I  may  turn  me  to  each  one  of  you, 
And  swear  unto  my  soul  to  right  your  wrongs. 
The  vow  is  made. — Come,  brother  take  a  head; 
And  in  this  hand  the  other  will  I  bear : 
Lavinia,  thou  shalt  be  employed  in  these  things; 
Bear  thou  my  hand,   sweet  wench,  between  thy 

As  for  thee,  boy,  go,  get  thee  from  my  sight; 
Thou  art  an  exile,  and  thou  must  not  stay : 
Hie  to  the  Goths,  and  raise  an  army  there : 
And,  if  you  love  me,  as  I  think  you  do, 
Let's  kiss  and  part,  for  we  have  much  to  do. 

[Exeunt  Titus,  Marcus,  and  Lavinia. 
Luc.  Farewell,  Andronicus,  my  noble  father; 
The  woeful'st  man  that  ever  liv'd  in  Rome ! 
Farewell,  proud  Rome !  till  Lucius  come  again, 
He  leaves  his  pledges  dearer  than  his  life. 
Farewell,  Lavinia,  my  noble  sister; 
O,  'would,  thou  wert  as  thou  'tofore  hast  been ! 
But  now  nor  Lucius,  nor  Lavinia  lives, 
But  in  oblivion,  and  hateful  griefs, 
If  Lucius  live,  he  will  requite  your  wrongs; 
And  make  proud  Saturninus  and  his  empress 
Beg  at  the  gates,  like  Tarquin  and  his  queen. 
Now  will  I  to  the  Goths,  and  raise  a  power, 
To  be  reveng'd  oh  Rome  and  Saturnine.        [Exit- 



A  Room  in  Titus's  House.    A  Banquet  set  out. 

Enter  Titus,  Marcus,  Lavinia,  and  young  Lu- 
cius, a  Boy. 

Tit.  So,  so;  now  sit:  and  look,  you  eat  no  more 
Than  will  preserve  just  so  much  strength  in  us 
As  will  revenge  these  bitter  woes  of  ours. 
Marcus,  unknit  that  sorrow-wreathen  knot2; 
Thy  niece  and  I,  poor  creatures,  want  our  hands 
And  cannot  passionate  3  our  tenfold  grief 
With  folded  arms.    This  poor  right  hand  of  mine 
Is  left  to  tyrannize  upon  my  breast; 
And  when  my  heart,  all  mad  with  misery, 
Beats  in  this  hollow  prison  of  my  flesh, 
Then  thus  I  thump  it  down. — 
Thou  map  of  woe,  that  thus  dost  talk  in  signs ! 

[To  Lavinia. 
When  thy  poor  heart  beats  with  outrageous  beating, 
Thou  canst  not  strike  it  thus  to  make  it  still. 
Wound  it  with  sighing,  girl ;  kill  it  with  groans ; 
Or  get  some  little  knife  between  thy  teeth, 
And  just  against  thy  heart  make  thou  a  hole; 
That  all  the  tears  that  thy  poor  eyes  let  fall, 
May  run  into  that  sink,  and,  soaking  in, 
Drown  the  lamenting  fool  in  sea-salt  tears. 

1  This  scene,  which  does  not  contribute  any  thing  to  the 
action,  jet  seems  to  be  by  the  same  author  as  the  rest,  is. 
wanting  in  the  quarto  copies  of  1600  and  1611,  but  found  in  the 
folio  of  1623. 

3  So  in  The  Tempest  :— 

' __  sitting, 

His  arms  in  this  sad  knot.' 
3  This  obsolete  verb  is  likewise  found  in  Spenser  :— 
'  Great  pleasure  mix'd  with  pitiful  regard, 
That  godly  king  and  queen  did  passionate.' 


Mar.  Fye,  brother,  fye !  teach  her  not  thus  to  lay 
Such  violent  hands  upon  her  tender  life. 

Tit.  How  now !  has  sorrow  made  thee  dote  already? 
Why,  Marcus,  no  man  should  be  mad  but  I. 
What  violent  hands  can  she  lay  on  her  life  ? 
Ah,  wherefore  dost  thou  urge  the  name  of  hands  4;— 
To  bid  JEneas  tell  the  tale  twice  o'er, 
How  Troy  was  burnt,  and  he  made  miserable  ? 
O,  handle  not  the  theme,  to  talk  of  hands; 
Lest  we  remember  still,  that  we  have  none. — 
Fye,  fye,  how  frantickly  I  square  my  talk ! 
As  if  we  should  forget  we  had  no  hands, 
If  Marcus  did  not  name  the  word  of  hands ! — 
Come,  let's  fall  to :  and,  gentle  girl,  eat  this : — 
Here  is  no  drink !  Hark,  Marcus,  what  she  says; — 
I  can  interpret  all  her  martyr'd  signs, — 
She  says,  she  drinks  no  other  drink  but  tears, 
Brew'd  with  her  sorrows,mesh'd5  upon  her  cheeks : — 
Speechless  complainer,  I  will  learn  thy  thought ; 
In  thy  dumb  action  will  I  be  as  perfect 
As  begging  hermits  in  their  holy  prayers : 
Thou  shalt  not  sigh,  nor  hold  thy  stumps  to  heaven, 
Nor  wink,  nor  nod,  nor  kneel,  nor  make  a  sign, 
But  I,  of  these,  will  wrest  an  alphabet, 
And,  by  still  practice,  learn  to  know  thy  meaning. 

Boy.   Good   grandsire,   leave  these  bitter  deep 
laments : 
Make  my  aunt  merry  with  some  pleasing  tale. 

Mar.  Alas,  the  tender  boy,  in  passion  mov'd, 
Doth  weep  to  see  his  grandsire's  heaviness. 

Tit.  Peace,  tender  sapling:   thou  art  made  of 

4  So  in  Troilus  and  Cress  id  a : — 

* thou 

Handiest  in  thy  discourse,  O  that  her  hand.* 

5  A  very  .coarse  allusion  to  brewing. 


And  tears  will  quickly  melt  thy.  life  away. — 

[Marcus  strikes  the  Dish  with  a  Knife. 
What  dost  thou  strike  at,  Marcus,  with  thy  knife  ? 

Mar.  At  that  that  I  have  kill'd,  my  lord;  a  fly. 

Tit.  Out  on  thee,  murderer !  thou  kill'st  my  heart; 
Mine  eyes  are  cloy'd  with  view  of  tyranny : 
A  deed  of  death,  done  on  the  innocent, 
Becomes  not  Titus'  brother:  Get  thee  gone; 
I  see,  thou  art  not  for  my  company. 

Mar.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  but  kill'd  a  fly. 

Tit.  But  how,  if  that  fly  had  a  father  and  mother  6  ? 
How  would  he  hang  his  slender  gilded  wings, 
And  buz  lamenting  doings  in  the  air  ? 
Poor  harmless  fly ! 

That,  with  his  pretty  buzzing  melody, 
Came  here  to  make  us  merry;  and  thou  hast  kill'd 

Mar.  Pardon  me,  sir ;  'twas  a  black  ill  favour'd  fly, 
Like  to  the  empress'  Moor ;  therefore  I  kill'd  him. 

Tit.  O,  O,  O, 
Then  pardon  me  for  reprehending  thee, 
For  thou  hast  done  a  charitable  deed. 
Give  me  thy  knife,  I  will  insult  on  him ; 
Flattering  myself,  as  if  it  were  the  Moor, 
Come  hither  purposely  to  poison  me. — 
There's  for  thyself,  and  that's  for  Tamora. — 
Ah,  sirrah7! — 

Yet  I  do  think  we  are  not  brought  so  low, 
But  that,  between  us,  we  can  kill  a  fly, 
That  comes  in  likeness  of  a  coal-black  Moor. 

6  S tee vens  conjectures  that  the  words  '  and  mother*  should  be 
omitted.     Ritson  proposes  to  read  the  line  thus : — 

(  Bat !  How  if  that  fly  had  a  father,  brother?* 

7  This  was  formerly  not  a  disrespectful  expression.  Poins 
uses  the  same  address  to  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  King  Henry  IV. 
Part  I.  Act  i.  Sc.  2. 

T  2 


Mar.  Alas,  poor  man !  grief  has  so  wrought  on 
He  takes  false  shadows  for  true  substances. 

Tit.  Come,  take  away. — Lavinia,  go  with  me: 
I'll  to  thy  closet ;  and  go  read  with  thee 
Sad  stories,  chanced  in  the  times  of  old.— 
Come,  hoy,  and  go  with  me;  thy  sight  is  young, 
And  thou  shalt  read,  when  mine  begins  to  dazzle. 



SCENE  I.    The  same.    Before  TitusV  House. 

Enter  Titus  and  Marcus.      Then  enter  Young 
Lucius,  Lavinia  running  after  him. 

Boy.  Help,  grandsire,  help !  my  aunt  Lavinia 
Follows  me  every  where,  I  know  not  why : — 
Good  uncle  Marcus,  see  how  swift  she  comes! 
Alas,  sweet  aunt,  I  know  not  what  you  mean. 

Mar.  Stand  by  me,  Lucius ;  do  not  fear  thine  aunt. 

Tit.  She  loves  thee,  boy,  too  well  to  do  thee  harm. 

Boy.  Ay,  when  my  father  was  in  Rome,  she  did. 

Mar.  W  hat  means  my  niece  Lavinia  by  these  signs  ? 

Tit.  Fear  her  not,  Lucius : — Somewhat  doth  she 
See,  Lucius,  see,  how  much  she  makes  of  thee : 
Somewhither  would  she  have  thee  go  with  her. 
Ah,  boy,  Cornelia  never  with  more  care 
Read  to  her  sons,  than  she  hath  read  to  thee, 
Sweet  poetry, _and  Tully's  Orator1. 
Canst  thou  not  guess  wherefore  she  plies  thee  thus? 

Boy.  My  lord,  I  know  not,  I,  nor  can  I  guess, 

1  Tally's  Treatise  on  Eloquence,  entitled  Orator. 


Unless  some  fit  or  frenzy  do  possess  her: 
For  I  have  heard  my  grandsire,  say  full  oft, 
Extremity  of  griefs  would  make  men  mad ; 
And  I  have  read  that  Hecuba  of  Troy 
Ran  mad  through  sorrow :  That  made  me  to  fear; 
Although,  my  lord,  I  know,  my  noble  aunt 
Loves  me  as  dear  as  e'er  my  mother  did, 
And  would  not,  but  in  fury,  fright  my  youth: 
Which  made  me  down  to  throw  my  books,  and  fly ; 
Causeless,  perhaps :  But  pardon  me,  sweet  aunt : 
And,  madam,  if  my  uncle  Marcus  go,    , 
I  will  most  willingly  attend  your  ladyship. 
Mar.  Lucius,  I  will. 

[Lav ini A  turns  over  the  Books  which  Lucius 
has  let  fall. 
Tit.  How  now,  Lavinia? — Marcus,  what  means 
t>  this? 

me  bookihere  is  that  she  desires  to  see: — 
Which  is  it,  girl,  of  these? — Open  them,  boy  — 
^IL^pu  art  deeper  read,  and  better  skill'd ; 
§  5  ^^Np  ^ke  choice  of  ail  my  library, 
*S        o  <5  8J'utte  tny  sorrow,  till  the  heavens 
^  &  **  S  tt«  i  damn'd  contriver  of  this  deed. — 
g       §     i he  up  her  arms  in  sequence*  thus? 
**      *n    4hink,  she  means,  that  there  was  more 

rain  one 
Confederate  in  the  fact: — Ay,  more  there  was : — 
Or  else  to  heaven  she  heaves  them  for  revenge. 
Tit.  Lucius,  what  book  is  that  she  tosseth  so  ? 
Boy.  Grandsire,  'tis  Ovid's  Metamorphosis; 
My  mother  gave't  me. 

.  Mar.  For  love  of  her  that's  gone, 

Perhaps  she  cull'd  it  from  among  the  rest. 

Tit.  Soft!  see,  how  busily  she  turns  the  leaves ! 
Help  her : — 

3  Succession, 


What  would  she  find? — Lavinia,  shall  I  read? 
This  is  the  tragick  tale  of  Philomel, 
And  treats  of  Tereus'  treason,  and  his  rape ; 
And  rape,  I  fear,  was  root  of  thine  annoy. 

Mar.  See,  brother,  see;  note  how  she  quotes3 
the  leaves. 

Tit.  Lavinia,  wert  thou  thus  surpris'd,  sweet  girl, 
Ravish'd  and  wrong'd,  as  Philomela  was, 
Forc'd  in  the  ruthless,  vast,  and  gloomy  woods  ?— 

See,  see ! 

Ay,  such  a  place  there  is,  where  we  did  hunt, 
(O,  had  we  never,  never,  hunted  there !) 
Pattern'd  by  that  the  poet  here  describes, 
By  nature  made  for  murders,  and  for  rapes. 

Mar.  O,  why  should  nature  build  so  foul  a  den, 
Unless  the  gods  delight  in  tragedies ! 

Tit.  Give  signs,  sweet  girl,— for  here  are  none 
but  friends,— 
What  Roman  lord  it  was  durst  do  the  deed : 
Or  slunk  not  Saturnine,  as  Tarquin  erst, 
That  left  the  camp  to  sin  in  Lucrece'  bed  ? 

Mar.  Sit  down,  sweet  niece ; — brother,  sit  down 
by  me. — 
Apollo,  Pallas,  Jove,  or  Mercury, 
Inspire  me,  that  I  may  this  treason  find! — 
My  lord,  look  here ; — Look  here,  Lavinia : 
This  sandy  plot  is  plain ;  guide,  if  thou  canst, 
This  after  me,  when  I  have  writ  my  name 
Without  the  help  of  any  hand  at  all. 

[He  writes  his  Name  with  his  Staff,  and  guides 
it  with  his  Feet  and  Mouth. 
CmVd  be  that  heart,  that  forc'd  us  to  this  shift ! — 
Write  thou,  good  niece :  and  here  display,  at  last, 
What  God  will  have  discover'd  for  revenge ! 

3  To  quote  \a  to  observe* 


Heaven  guide  thy  pen  to  print  thy  sorrows  plain, 
That  we  may  know  the  traitors  and  the  truth ! 

[She  takes  the  Staff  in  her  Mouth,  and  guides 
it  with  her  Stumps,  and  writes. 

Tit.  O,  do  you  read,  my  lord,  what  she  hath  writ? 
Stuprum — Chiron — Demetrius. 

Mar.  What,  what ! — the  lustful  sons  of  Tamora 
Performers  of  this  heinous,  bloody  deed? 

Tit.  Magne  Dominator  poll 4, 
Tarn  lentus  audis  scelera?  tarn  lentus  vides? 

Mar.  O,  calm  thee,  gentle  lord!  although,  I  know, 
There  is  enough  written  upon  this  earth, 
To  stir  a  mutiny  in  the  mildest  thoughts, 
And  arm  the  minds  of  infants  to  exclaims. 
My  lord,  kneel  down  with  me:  Lavinia,  kneel; 
And  kneel,  sweet  boy,  the  Roman  Hector's  hope ; 
And  swear  with  me, — as  with  the  woful  feere5, 
And  father  of  that  chaste  dishonoured  dame, 
Lord  Junius  Brutus  sware  for  Lucrece'  rape, — 
That  we  will  prosecute,  by  good  advice, 
Mortal  revenge  upon  these  traitorous  Goths, 
And  see  their  blood,  or  die  with  this  reproach. 

Tit.  Tis  sure  enough,  an  you  knew  how, 
But  if  you  hurt  these  bear-whelps,  then  beware : 
The  dam  will  wake ;  and,  if  she  wind  you  once, 
She's  with  the  lion  deeply  still  in  league, 
And  lulls  him  whilst  she  playeth  on  her  back, 
And,  when  he  sleeps,  will  she  do  what  she  list. 
You're  a  young  huntsman,  Marcus ;  let  it  alone ; 
And,  come,  I  will  go  get  a  leaf  of  brass, 

4  Magne  Regnator  Deum,  &c.  is  the  exclamation  of  Hippo- 
lytus  when  Phaedra  discovers  the  secret  of  her  incestuous  pas- 
sion in  Seneca's  Tragedy. 

'  s  Feere  signifies  a  companion,  and  here  metaphorically  a  hus- 
band, as  in  the  old  romance  of  Sir  Eglamourof  Artoys,  sig.  A4: 
'  Christabele,  yonr  daughter  free, 
When  shall  she  have  a  fere? 


And  with  a  gad6  of  steel  will  write  these  words, 
And  lay  it  by :  the  angry  northern  wind 
Will  blow  these  sands,  like  Sibyl's  leaves,  abroad7, 
And  where's  your  lesson  then  ? — Boy,  what  say  you? 

Boy.  I  say,  my  lord,  that  if  I  were  a  man, 
Their  mother's  bed-chamber  should  not  be  safe 
For  these  bad  bondmen  to  the  yoke  of  Rome.  \ 

Mar.  Ay,  that's  my  boy !  thy  father  hath  full  oft 
For  this  ungrateful  country  done  the  like. 

Boy.  And,  uncle,  so  will  I,  an  if  I  live. 

Tit.  Come,  go  with  me  into  mine  armoury ; 
Lucius,  I'll  fit  thee ;  and  withal,  my  boy 
Shall  carry  from  me  to  the  empress'  sons 
Presents,  that  I  intend  to  send  them  both : 
Come,  come ;  thou'lt  do  thy  message,  wilt  thou  not? 

Boy.  Ay,  with  my  dagger  in  their  bosoms,  grand- 

Tit.  No,  boy,  not  so ;   I'll  teach  thee  another 
Lavinia,  come : — Marcus,  look  to  my  house ; 
Lucius  and  I'll  go  brave  it  at  the  court; 
Ay,  marry,  will  we,  sir :  and  we'll  be  waited  on. 

[Exeunt  Titus,  Lavinia,  and  Boy. 

Mar.  O  heavens,  can  you  hear  a  good  man  groan, 
And  not  relent,  or  not  compassion  him  ? 
Marcus,  attend  him  in  his  ecstasy ; 
That  hath  more  scars  of  sorrow  in  his  heart, 
Than  foemen's  marks  upon  his  batter'd  shield : 
But  yet  so  just,  that  he  will  not  revenge  :— 
Revenge  the  heavens  for  old  Andronicus !      [Exit. 

6  A  gad,  in  A.  S.  signified  the  point  of  a  spear.     It  is  here 
used  for  a  similar  pointed  instrument. 

7  ' Foliis  tantum  ne  carmina  manda, 

Ne  turbata  vol  en t  rapidis  ladibria  ventis.' 

JEn.  vi.  75. 



The  same,     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Aaron,  Chiron,  and  Demetrius,  at  one 
Door;  at  another  Door,  Young  Lucius,  and  an 
Attendant,  with  a  Bundle  of  Weapons,  and  Verses 
writ  upon  them. 

Chi.  Demetrius,  here's  the  son  of  Lucius ; 
He  hath  some  message  to  deliver  to  us. 

Aar.  Ay,  some  mad  message  from  his  mad  grand- 

Boy.  My  lords,  with  all  the  humbleness  I  may, 
I  greet  your  honours  from  Andronicus ; — 
And  pray  the  Roman  gods  confound  you  both. 


Dem.  Gramercy1,  lovely  Lucius ;  What's  the  news? 

Boy.  That  you  are  both  decipher 'd,  that's  the  news, 
For  villains  mark'd  with  rape.  [Aside.]  May  it  please 

My  grandsire,  well  advis'd,  hath  sent  by  me 
The  goodliest  weapons  of  his  armoury, 
To  gratify  your  honourable  youth, 
The  hope  of  Rome ;  for  so  he  bade  me  say ; 
And  so  I  do,  and  with  his  gifts  present 
Your  lordships,  that  whenever  you  have  need, 
You  may  be  armed  and  appointed  well: 
And  so  I  leave  you  both,  [aside]  like  bloody  vil- 
lains. [Exeunt  Boy  and  Attendant. 

Dem.  What's  here?  A  scroll;  and  written  round  , 
Let's  see ; 

Integer  vitce,  scelerisque  purus* 
Non  eget  Mauri  jaculis,  nee  arcu. 


1  i.e.  grand  merci;*  great  thanks. 


Chi.  O,  'tis  a  verse  in  Horace;  I  know  it  well: 
I  read  it  in  the  grammar  long  ago. 

Aar.  Ay,  just! — a  verse  in  Horace : — right,  you 
have  it. 
Now,  what  a  thing  it  is  to  be  an  ass !        x 
Here's  no  sound  jest2!  the  old  man  hath' 

found  their  guilt; 
And  sends  the  weapons   wrapp'd    about 

with  lines,  l^^ 

That  wound,  beyond  their  feeling,  to  the  / 

But  were  our  witty  empress  well  a-foot, 
She  would  applaud  Andronicus'  conceit.      . 
But  let  her  rest  in  her  unrest  awhile. —      ^ 
And  now,  young  lords,  was't  not  a  happy  star 
Led  us  to  Home,  strangers,  and  more  than  so, 
Captives,  to  be  advanced  to  this  height? 
It  did  me  good,  before  the  palace  gate 
To  brave  the  tribune  in  his  brother's  hearing. 

Dent.  But  me  more  good,  to  see  so  great  a  lord 
Basely  insinuate,  and  send  us  gifts. 

Aar.  Had  he  not  reason,  Lord  Demetrius? 
Did  you  not  use  his  daughter  very  friendly  ? 

Dem.  I  would,  we  had  a  thousand  Roman  dames 
At  such  a  bay,  by  turn  to  serve  our  lust. 

Chi.  A  charitable  wish,  and  full  of  love. 

Aar.  Here  lacks  but  your  mother  for  to  say  amen. 

Chi,  And  that  would  she  for  twenty  thousand  more. 

Dem.  Come,  let  us  go :  and  pray  to  all  the  gods 
For  our  beloved  mother  in  her  pains. 

Aar.  Pray  to  the  devils;  the  gods  have  given  us 
o'er.  [Aside,     Flourish, 

Dem.  Why  do  the  emperor's  trumpets  flourish 
thus  ? 

3  This  mode  of  expression  was  common  formerly.     So  in 
King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.: — '  Here's  no  fine  yillany !' 


Chi.  Belike,  for  joy  the  emperor  hath  a  son. 
Dem.  Soft;  who  comes  here ? 


Enter  a  Nurse,  with  a  Black-a^moor  Child  in  her 


Nur.  Good  morrow,  lords : 

0,  tell  me,  did  you  see  Aaron  the  Moor? 

Aar.  Well,  more,  or  less,  or  ne'er  a  whit  at  all, 
Here  Aaron  is :  and  what  with  Aaron  now  ? 

Nur.  O  gentle  Aaron,  we  are  all  undone ! 
Now  help,  or  woe  betide  thee  evermore !    ' 

Aar.  Why,  what  a  caterwauling  dost  thou  keep? 
What  dost  thou  wrap  and  fumble  in  thine  arms  ? 

Nur.  O,  that  which  I  would  hide  from  heaven's  eye, 
Our  empress'  shame,  and  stately  Rome's  disgrace; — 
She  is  deliver'd,  lords,  she  is  deliver'd. 

Aar.  To  whom? 

Nur.  I  mean,  she's  brought  to  bed. 

Aar.  Well,  God 

Give  her  good  rest !  What  hath  he  sent  her  ? 

Nur.  A  devil. 

Aar.  Why,  then  she's  the  devil's  dam;  a  joyful 

Nur.  A  joyless,  dismal,  black,  and  sorrowful  issue : 
Here  is  the  babe,  as  loathsome  as  a  toad 
Amongst  the  fairest  breeders  of  our  clime. 
The  empress  sends  it  thee,  thy  stamp,  thy  seal, 
And  bids  thee  christen  it  with  thy  dagger's  point, 

Aar.  Out,  out,  you  whore !  is  black  so  base  a  hue  ? 
Sweet  blowse,  you  are  a  beauteous  blossom,  sure. 

Dem.  Villain,  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Aar.  Done !  that  which  thou 

Canst  not  undo. 

Chi.  Thou  hast  undone  our  mother.. 

Aar.  Villain,  I  have  done  thy  mother. 

Dem.  And  therein,  hellish  dog,  thou  hast  undone. 
vol.  ix.  \3 


Woe  to  her  chance,  and  damn'd  her  loathed  choice! 
Accurs'd  the  offspring  of  so  foul  a  fiend ! 

Chi.  It  shall  not  live. 

Aar.  It  shall  not  die. 

Nur.  Aaron,  it  must:  the  mother  wills  it  so. 

Aar.  What,  must  it,  nurse  ?  then  let  no  man  but  I, 
Do  execution  on  my  flesh  and  blood. 

Dem.  I'll  broach3  the  tadpole  on  my  rapier's  point; 
Nurse,  give  it  me;  my  sword  shall  soon  despatch  it 

Aar.  Sooner  this  sword  shall  plough  thy  bowels  up, 
[Takes  the  Child  from  the  Nurse,  and  draws. 
Stay,  murderous  villains !  will  you  kill  your  brother? 
Now,  by  the  burning  tapers  of  the  sky, 
That  shone  so  brightly  when  this  boy  was  got, 
He  dies  upon  my  scimitar's  sharp  point, 
That  touches  this  my  first-born  son  and  heir ! 
I  tell  you,  younglings,  not  Enceladus4, 
With  all  his  threat'ning  band  of  Typhon's  brood, 
Nor  great  Alcides,  nor  the  god  of  war, 
Shall  seize  this  prey  out  of  his  father's  hands. 
What,  what;  ye  sanguine,  shallow-hearted  boys! 
Ye  white-lim'd  walls!  ye  alehouse  painted  signs! 
Coal  black  is  better  than  another  hue, 
In  that  it  scorns  to  bear  another  hue : 
For  all  the  water  in  the  ocean 
Can  never  turn  a  swan's  blaek  legs  to  white, 
Although  she  lave  them  hourly  in  the  flood. 

3  Id  Lust's  Dominion,  by  Marlowe,  a  play  in  its  style  bearing 
a  near  resemblance  to  Titus  Andronicus,  Eleazar,  the  Moor,  a 
character  of  unmingled  ferocity,  like  Aaron,  and,  like  him,  the 
paramour  of  a  royal  mistress,  exolaims: — 

' Run,  and  with  a  voice 

Erected  high  as  mine,  say  thus,  thus  threaten 
To  Roderigo  and  the  Cardinal, 
Seek  no  queens  here ;  I'll  broach  them,  if  they  do, 
Upon  my  falchion's  point.' 

4  A  giant,  the  son  of  Titan  and  Terra. 


Tell  the  emperess  from  me,  I  am  of  age 
To  keep  mine  own ;  excuse  it  how  she  can. 

Dem.  Wilt  thou  betray  thy  noble  mistress  thus  ?, 

Aar.  My  mistress  is  my  mistress ;  this,  myself; 
The  vigour,  and  the  picture  of  my  youth : 
This,  before  all  the  world,  do  I  prefer ; 
This,  maugre  all  the  world,  will  I  keep  safe, 
Or  some  of  you  shall  smoke  for  it  in  Rome. 

Dem.  By  this  our  mother  is  for  ever  sham'd. 

Chi.  Rome  will  despise  her  for  this  foul  escape  5. 

Nur.  The  emperor,  in  his  rage,  will  doom  her 

Chi.  I  blush  to  think  upon  this  ignomy6. 

Aar.  Why,  there's  the  privilege  your  beauty  bears : 
Fye,  treacherous  hue  1  that  will  betray  with  blushing 
The  close  enacts  and  counsels  of  the  heart7 ! 
Here's  a  young  lad  fram'd  of  another  leer8 : 
Look,  how  the  black  slave  smiles  upon  the  father ; 
As  who  should  say,  Old  lad,  Jam  thine  oven. 
He  is  your  brother,  lords ;  sensibly  fed 
Of  that  self-blood  that  first  gave  life  to  you ; 
And,  from  that  womb,  where  you  imprison'd  were, 
He  is  enfranchised  and  come  to  light: 
Nay,  he's  your  brother  by  the  surer  side, 
Although  my  seal  be  stamped  in  his  face. 

Nur.  Aaron,  what  shall  I  say  unto  the  empress  ? 

Dem.  Advise  thee,  Aaron,  what  is  to  be  done, 
And  we  will  all  subscribe  to  thy  advice; 
Save  thou  the  child,  so  we  may  all  be  safe. 

Aar.  Then  sit  we  down,  and  let  us  all  consult. 

5  i.  e.  this  foul  illegitimate  child.    So  in  King  John : — 

'  No  scape  of  Nature/ 

6  i.  e.  ignominy. 

7  Thus  also  in  Othello : — 

'  They  are  close  denotements1  working  from  the  heart.'    - 

8  Complexion.    See  vol.  iii.  p.  184,  note  6. 


My  son  and  I  will  have  the  wind  of  you : 
Keep  there:  Now  talk  at  pleasure  of  your  safety. 

[  They  sit  on  the  Ground. 

Dem.  How  many  women  saw  this  child  of  his? 

Aar.  Why,  so,  brave  lords ;  When  we  all  join  in 
I  am  a  lamb :  but  if  you  brave  the  Moor, 
The  chafed  boar,  the  mountain  lioness, 
The  ocean  swells  not  so  as  Aaron  storms.— 
But,  say  again,  how  many  saw  the  child  ? 

Nur.  Cornelia  the  midwife,  and  myself, 
And  no  one  else,  but  the  delivered  empress. 
.    Aar.  The  emperess,  the  midwife,  and  yourself: 
Two  may  keep  counsel,  when  the  third's  away9: 
Go  to  the  empress ;  tell  her,  this  I  said : — 

[Stabbing  her, 
Weke,  weke ! — so  cries  a  pig,  prepar'd  to  the  spit 

Dem.   What  mean'st  thou,  Aaron?   Wherefore 
didst  thou  this? 

Aar.  O,  lord,  sir,  'tis  a  deed  of  policy : 
Shall  she  live  to  betray  this  guilt  of  ours  ? 
A  long-tongu'd  babbling  gossip  ?  no,  lords,  no. 
And  now  be  it  known  to  you  my  full  intent. 
Not  far,  one  Muliteus  lives 10,  my  countryman, 
His  wife  but  yesternight  was  brought  to  bed; 
His  child  is  like  to  her,  fair  as  you  are : 
Go  pack11  with  him,  and  give  the  mother  gold, 
And  tell  them  both  the  circumstance  of  all; 
And  how  by  this  their  child  shall  be  advanc'd 
And  be  received  for  the  emperor's  heir, 

9  This  proverb  is  introduced  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  ii. 

10  The  word  lives,  which  is  wanting  in  the  old  copies  was 
supplied  by  Rowe.  Steevens  thinks  Muliteus  a  corruption  for 
*  Muly  lives.* 

11  To  pack  is  to  contrive  insidiously.     So  in  King  Lear:— 

'  Snuffs  and  packings  of  the  duke's.' 


And  substituted  in  the  place  of  mine, 
To  calm  this  tempest  whirling  in  the  court ; 
And  let  the  emperor  dandle  him  for  his  own. 
Hark  ye,  lords,  ye  see,  that  I  have  given  her  phy- 
sick,  [Pointing  to  the  Nurse. 

And  you  must  needs  bestow  her  funeral ; 
The  fields  are  near,  and  you  are  gallant  grooms : 
This  done,  see  that  you  take  no  longer  days, 
But  send  the  midwife  presently  to  me. 
The  midwife,  and  the  nurse,  well  made  away, 
Then  let  the  ladies  tattle  what  they  please. 

Chi.  Aaron,  I  see,  thou  wilt  not  trust  the  air 
With  secrets. 

Dent.  For  this  care  of  Tamora, 

Herself,  and  hers,  are  highly  bound  to  thee. 

[Exeunt  Dem.  and  Chi.  bearing  off  the  Nurse. 

Aar.  Now  to  the  Goths,  as  swift  as  swallow  flies ; 
There  to  dispose  this  treasure  in  mine  arms, 
And  secretly  to  greet  the  empress'  friends. — 
Come  on,  you  thick-lipp'd  slave,  111  bear  you  hence; 
For  it  is  you  that  puts  us  to  our  shifts : 
111  make  you  feed  on  berries,  and  on  roots, 
And  feed  on  curds  and  whey,  and  suok  the  goat, 
And  cabin  in  a  cave;  and  bring  you  up 
To  be  a  warrior,  and  command  a  camp.         [Exit. 

SCENE  III.     The  same.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  Titus,  bearing  Arrows,  with  Letters  at  the 
ends  of  them;  with  him  Marcus,  Young  Lu- 
cius, and  other  Gentlemen,  with  Bows. 

Tit.  Come,  Marcus,  come; — Kinsmen,  this  is  the 
way: — 
Sir  boy,  now  let  me  see  your  archery; 
Look  ye  draw  home  enough,  and  'tis  there  straight : 
Terras  Astrcea  reliquit : 



Be  you  remember'd,  Marcus,  she's  gone,  she's  fled. 
Sir,  take  you  to  your  tools.     You,  cousins,  shall 
Go  sound  the  ocean,  and  cast  your  nets; 
Happily  you  may  find  her  in  the  sea ; 
Yet  there's  as  little  justice  as  at  land:— 
No;  Publius  and  Sempronius,  you  must  do  it; 
Tis  you  must  dig  with  mattock,  and  with  spade, 
And  pierce  the  inmost  centre  of  the  earth: 
Then,  when  you  come  to  Pluto's  region, 
I  pray  you,  deliver  him  this  petition : 
Tell  him,  it  is  for  justice,  and  for  aid : 
And  that  it  comes  from  old  Androoicus, 
Shaken  with  sorrows  in  ungrateful  Rome. — 
Ah,  Rome ! — Well,  well ;  I  made  thee  miserable, 
What  time  I  threw  the  people's  suffrages 
On  him  that  thus  doth  tyrannize  o'er  me. — 
Go,  get  you  gone;  and  pray  be  careful  all, 
And  leave  you  not  a  man  of  war  unsearch'd; 
This  wicked  emperor  may  have  shipp'd  her  hence, 
And,  kinsmen,  then  we  may  go  pipe  for  justice. 

Mar.  O,  Publius,  is  not  this  a  heavy  case, 
To  see  thy  noble  uncle  thus  distract? 

Pub.  Therefore,  my  lord,  it  highly  us  concerns, 
By  day  and  night  to  attend  him  carefully.; 
And  feed  his  humour  kindly  as  we  may, 
Till  time  beget  some  careful  remedy. 

Mar.  Kinsmen,  his  sorrows  are  past  remedy. 
Join  with  the  Goths ;  and  with  revengeful  war 
Take  wreak  on  Rome  for  this  ingratitude, 
And  vengeance  on  the  traitor  Saturnine. 

Tit.  Publius,  how  now?  how  now,  my  masters? 
Have  you  met  with  her  ? 

Pub.  No,  my  good  lord:  but  Pluto  sends  you 
If  you  will  have  revenge  from  hell,  you  shall; 


Many,  for  Justice  she  is  so  employed, 

He  thinks,  with  Jove  in  heaven,  or  some  where  else, 

So  that  perforce  you  must  needs  stay  a  time. 

Tit.  He  doth  me  wrong,  to  feed  me  with  delays. 
I'll  dive  into  the  burning  lake  below, 
And  pull  her  out  of  Acheron  by  the  heels. — 
Marcus,  we  are  but  shrubs,  no  cedars  we ; 
No  big-bon'd  men,  fram'd  of  the  Cyclop's  size : 
But  metal,  Marcus,  steel  to  the  very  back ; 
Yet  wrung  with  wrongs, more  than  our  backs  can  bear : 
And  sith  there  is  no  justice  in  earth  nor  hell, 
We  will  solicit  heaven ;  and  move  the  gods, 
To  send  down  justice  for  to  wreak  *  our  wrongs : 
Come,  to  this  gear2.   You  are  a  good  archer,  Mar- 
cus, [lie  gives  them  the  Arrows. 
Ad  Jovem,  that's  for  you : — Here,  ad  Apollinem. — 
Ad  Mortem,  that's  for  myself; — 
Here,  boy,  to  Pallas : — Here,  to  Mercury : 
To  Saturn,  Caius3,  not  to  Saturnine, — 
You  were  as  good  to  shoot  against  the  wind. — 
To  it,  boy.     Marcus,  loose  you  when  I  bid : 
O'  my  word,  I  have  written  to  effect; 
There's  not  a  god  left  unsolicited. 

Mar.   Kinsmen,  shoot  all  your  shafts  into  the 
court4 : 
We  will  afflict  the  emperor  in  his  pride. 

1  Revenge.        s  Gear  is  here  pat  for  matter,  business. 

9  Caius  appears  to  bave  been  one  of  the  kinsmen  of  Titus. 
Publius  and  Cains  are  again  mentioned,  Act  v.  Sc.  2.  Steevens 
would  read  Ccelus,  as  there  was  a  Roman  deity  of  that  name. 

4  In  the  ancient  ballad,  Titus  Andronicns's  Complaint,  is  the 
following  passage : — 

'  Then  past  releife  I  upp  and  downe  did  goe, 

And  with  my  teares  wrote  in  the  dost  my  woe : 

/  shot  my  arrowes  towards  heaven  hie, 

And  for  revenge  to  hell  did  often  cry.' 
Supposing  the  ballad  to  have  been  written  before  the  play,  this 
may  be  only  a  metaphorical  expression,  taken  from.  P*«\mVkvu 
3  :-~*  They  shoot  out  their  arrows,  even  ViUer  'woxta,' 


Tit.  Now,  masters,  draw.  [They  shoot."]  O,  we 
said,  Lucius! 
Good  boy,  in  Virgo's  lap ;  give  it  Pallas. 

Mar.  My  lord,  I  aim  a  mile  beyond  the  moon ; 
Your  letter  is  with  Jupiter  by  this. 

Tit.  Ha!  Publius,  Publius,  what  hast  thou  done 
See,  see,  thou  hast  shot  off  one  of  Taurus'  horns. 

Mar.  This  was  the  sport,  my  lord :  when  Pul 
lius  shot, 
The  bull  being  gall'd,  gave  Aries  such  a  knock, 
That  down  fell  both  the  ram's  horns  in  the  court; 
And  who  should  find  them  but  the  empress'  villaii 
She  laugh'd,  and  told  the  Moor,  he  should  not  chooi 
But  give  them  to  his  master  for  a  present. 

Tit.  Why,  there  it  goes :  God  give  your  lordsh 

Enter  a  Clown,  with  a  Basket  and  two  Pigeons, 

News,  news  from  heaven !  Marcus,  the  post  is  com 
Sirrah,  what  tidings  ?  have  you  any  letters  ? 
Shall  I  have  justice?  what  says  Jupiter? 

Clo.  Ho!  the  gibbet-maker?  he  says,  that  1 
hath  taken  them  down  again,  for  the  man  must  n 
be  hang'd  till  the  next  week. 

Tit.  But  what  says  Jupiter,  I  ask  thee? 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  I  know  not  Jupiter;  I  never  drai 
with  him  in  all  my  life. 

Tit.  Why,  villain,  art  not  thou  the  carrier? 

Clo.  Ay,  of  my  pigeons,  sir;  nothing  else. 

Tit.  Why,  didst  thou  not  come  from  heaven  ? 

Clo.  From  heaven?  alas,  sir,  I  never  came  ther 
God  forbid,  I  should  be  so  bold  to  press  to  heav 
in  my  young  days.  Why,  I  am  going  with  n 
pigeons  to  the  tribunal  plebs5,  to  take  up  a  matt 

*  The  Clown  means  to  say,  plebeian  tribune;  i.e.  tribune 
tiie  people.    Hanmer  supporca  ttaXta  xb&«&&  VtUmmum  pfefo. 


of  brawl  betwixt  my  uncle  and  one  of  the  emperial's 

Mar.  Why,  sir,  that  is  as  fit  as  can  be,  to  serve 
for  your  oration ;  and  let  him  deliver  the  pigeons  to 
the  emperor  from  you. 

Tit.  Tell  me,  can  you  deliver  an  oration  to  the 
emperor  with  a  grace  ? 

Clo.  Nay,  truly,  sir,  I  could  never  say  grace  in 
all  my  life. 

Tit.  Sirrah,  come  hither :  make  no  more  ado, 
But  give  your  pigeons  to  the  emperor : 
By  me  thou  shalt  have  justice  at  his  hands. 
Hold,  hold; — mean  while,  here's  money  for  thy 

Give  me  a  pen  and  ink. — 
Sirrah,  can  you  with  a  grace  deliver  a  supplication  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  sir. 

Tit.  Then  here  is  a  supplication  for  you.  And 
when  you  come  to  him,  at  the  first  approach,  you 
must  kneel;  then  kiss  his  foot;  then  deliver  up 
your  pigeons ;  and  then  look  for  your  reward,  I'll 
be  at  hand,  sir :  see  you  do  it  bravely. 

Clo.  I  warrant  you,  sir ;  let  me  alone. 

Tit.  Sirrah,  hast  thou  a  knife?     Come,  let  me 
Bee  it. 
Here,  Marcus,  fold  it  in  the  oration ; 
For  thou  hast  made  it  like  an  humble  suppliant : — 
And  when  thou  hast  given  it  to  the  emperor, 
Knock  at  my  door,  and  tell  me  what  he  says. 

Clo.  God  be  with  you,  sir;  I  will. 

Tit.  Come,  Marcus,  let's  go: — Publius,  follow 
me.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.     The  same.    Before  the  Palace. 

Enter  Saturninus,  Tamora,  Chiron,  Deme 
trius,  Lords,  and  Others;  Saturninus  witi 
the  Arrows  in  his  Hand  that  Titus  shot. 

Sat.  Why,  lords,  what  wrongs  are  these?  Was 
ever  seen 
An  emperor  of  Rome  thus  overborne, 
Troubled,  confronted  thus :  and,  for  the  extent 
Of  egal1  justice,  us'd  in  such  contempt? 
My  lords,  you  know,  as  do  the  mightful  gods, 
However  these  disturbers  of  our  peace 
Buz  in  the  people's  ears,  there  nought  hath  pass'd, 
But  even  with  law,  against  the  wilful  sons 
Of  old  Andronicus.     And  what  an  if 
His  sorrows  have  so  overwhelmed  his  wits, 
Shall  we  be  thus  afflicted  in  his  wreaks, 
His  fits,  his  frenzy,  and  his  bitterness  ? 
And  now  he  writes  to  heaven  fqr  his  redress : 
See,  here's  to  Jove,  and  this  to  Mercury ; 
This  to  Apollo ;  this  to  the  god  of  war : 
Sweet  scrolls  to  fly  about  the  streets  of  Rome! 
What's  this,  but  libelling  against  the  senate, 
And  blazoning  our  injustice  every  where?  ' 
A  goodly  humour,  is  it  not,  my  lords  ? 
As  who  would  say,  in  Rome  no  justice  were. 
But,  if  I  live,  his  feigned  ecstasies 
Shall  be  no  shelter  to  these  outrages : 
But  he  and  his  shall  know,  that  justice  lives 
In  Saturninus'  health;  whom,  if  she  sleep, 
He'll  so  awake,  as  she  in  fury  shall 
Cut  off  the  proud'st  conspirator  that  lives. 

Tarn.  My  gracious  lord,  my  lovely  Saturnine, 
Lord  of  my  life,  commander  of  my  thoughts, 

1  Equal. 


Calm  thee,  and  bear  the  faults  of  Titus'  age, 

The  effects  of  sorrow  for  his  valiant  sons, 

"Whose  loss  hath  pierc'd  him  deep  and  scarr'd  his 

heart ; 
And  rather  comfort  his  distressed  plight, 
Than  prosecute  the  meanest,  or  the  best, 
For  these  contempts.     Why,  thus  it  shall  become 
High-witted  Tamora  to  gloze2  with  all :       [Aside. 
But,  Titus,  I  have  touch'd  thee  to  the  quick, 
Thy  life-blood  out:  if  Aaron  now  be  wise, 
Then  is  all  safe,  the  anchor's  in  the  port. — 

Enter  Clown. 

How  now,  good  fellow  ?  would'st  thou  speak  with  us  ? 

Clo.  Yes,  forsooth,  an  your  mistership  be  imperial. 

Tam*  Empress  I  am,  but  yonder  sits  the  emperor. 

Clo.  Tis  he, — God,  and  Saint  Stephen,  give  you 
good  den: — I  have  brought  you  a  letter,  and  a  cou- 
ple of  pigeons  here.  [Sat.  reads  the  Letter. 

Sat.  Go,  take  him  away,  and  hang  him  presently. 

Clo.  How  much  money  must  I  have  ? 

Tarn.  Come,  sirrah,  you  must  be  hang'd. 

Clo.  Hang'd !  By'r  lady,  then  I  have  brought  up 
a  neck  to  a  fair  end.  [Exit,  guarded. 

Sat.  Despiteful  and  intolerable  wrongs ! 
Shall  I  endure  this  monstrous  villany  ? 
I  know  from  whence  this  same  device  proceeds ; 
May  this  be  borne  ? — as  if  his  traitorous  sons, 
That  died  by  law  for  murder  of  our  brother, 
Have  by  my  means  been  butcner'd  wrongfully. — 
Go,  drag  the  villain  hither  by  the  hair; 
Nor  age,  nor  honour,  shall  shape  privilege : 
Por  this  proud  mock,  I'll  be  thy  slaughterman ; 
Sly  frantick  wretch,  that  holp'st  to  make  me  great, 
In  hope  thyself  should  govern  Rome  and  me. 

9  Flatter. 


Enter  JEmilius. 

What  news  with  thee,  JEmilius  ? 

2Ermil.  Arm,  arm,  my  lords;  Rome  never  had 
more  cause! 
The  Goths  have  gather'd  head;  and  with  a  power 
Of  high-resolved  men,  bent  to  the  spoil, 
They  hither  march  amain,  under  conduct 
Of  Lucius,  son  to  old  Andronicus ; 
Who  threats,  in  course  of  this  revenge,  to  do 
As  much  as  ever  Coriolanus  did. 

Sat.  Is  warlike  Lucius  general  of  the  Goths  ? 
These  tidings  nip  me ;  and  I  hang  the  head 
As  flowers  with  frost,  or  grass  beat  down  with  storms* 
Ay,  now  begin  our  sorrows  to  approach : 
Tis  he  the  common  people  love  so  much ; 
Myself  hath  often  overheard  them  say 
(When  I  have  walked  like  a  private  man), 
That  Lucius'  banishment  was  wrongfully, 
And  they  have  wish'd  that  Lucius  were  their  em- 

Tarn.  Why  should  you  fear  ?  is  not  your  city 

Sat.  Ay,  but  the  citizens  favour  Lucius : 
And  will  revolt  from  me,  to  succour  him. 

Tarn.  King,  be  thy  thoughts  imperious  3,  like  thy 
Is  the  sun  dimm'd,  that  gnats  do  fly  in  it? 
The  eagle  suffers  little  birds  to  sing, 
And  is  not  careful  what  they  mean  thereby ; 
Knowing  that  with  the  shadow  of  his  wings, 
He  can  at  pleasure  stint4  their  melody : 
Even  so  may'st  thou  the  giddy  men  of  Rome. 

3  See  note  on  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Act  iv.  Sc.  5,  p.  425 ;  and 
Cymbeline,  Act  iv.  Sc.  2,  note  2,  p.  94. 

4  i.  e.  stop  their  melody.     So  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

* it  stinted,  and  cried — ay,' 


Then  cheer  thy  spirit;  for  know,  thou  emperor, 
I  will  enchant  the  old  Andronicus, 
"With  words  more  sweet,  and  yet  more  dangerous, 
Than  baits  to  fish,  or  honey-stalks  5  to  sheep ; 
When  as  the  one  is  wounded  with  the  bait, 
The  other  rotted  with  delicious  feed. 

Sat.  But  he  will  not  entreat  his  son  for  us. 

Tarn.  If  Tamora  entreat  him,  then  he  will : 
For  I  can  smooth  and  fill  his  aged  ear 
With  golden  promises ;  that  were  his  heart 
Almost  impregnable,  his  old  ears  deaf, 
Yet  should  both  ear  and  heart  obey  my  tongue. — 
Go  thou  before,  be  our  embassador;      [To  JEmil. 
Say,  that  the  emperor  requests  a  parley 
Of  warlike  Lucius,  and  appoint  the  meeting, 
Even  at  his  father's  house,  the  old  Andronicus. 

Sat.  JEmilius,  do  this  message  honourably : 
And  if  he  stand  on  hostage  for  his  safety, 
Bid  him  demand  what  pledge  will  please  him  best. 

JEmil.  Your  bidding  shall  I  do  effectually. 

[Exit  iEMiLius. 

Tarn.  Now  will  I  to  that  old  Andronicus ; 
And  temper  him  with  all  the  art  I  have, 
To  pluck  proud  Lucius  from  the  warlike  Goths. 
And  now,  sweet  emperor,  be  blithe  again, 
And  bury  all  thy  fear  in  my  devices. 

Sat.  Then  go  successfully,  and  plead  to  him. 


5  If  by  honey-stalks  c\over  flowers  are  meant,  it  is  an  error  to 
suppose  that  they  produce  the  rot  in  sheep.  Cows  and  oxen  will 
indeed  overcharge  themselves  with  clover  and  die. 

VOL.  IX. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.     Plains  near  Rome. 

Enter  Lucius,  and  Goths,  with  Drum  and 


Luc.  Approved  warriors,  and  my  faithful  friends, 
I  have  received  letters  from  great  Rome, 
Which  signify,  what  hate  they  bear  their  emperor, 
And  how  desirous  of  our  sight  they  are. 
Therefore,  great  lords,  be,  as  your  titles  witness, 
Imperious,  and  impatient  of  your  wrongs ; 
And,  wherein  Rome  hath  done  you  any  scath1, 
Let  him  make  treble  satisfaction. 

1  Goth.  Brave  slip,  sprung  from  the  great  An- 

Whose  name  was  once  our  terror,  now  our  comfort; 
Whose  high  exploits,  and  honourable  deeds, 
Ingrateful  Rome  requites  with  foul  contempt, 
Be  bold  in  us :  we'll  follow  where  thou  lead'st, — 
Like  stinging  bees  in  hottest  summer's  day, 
Led  by  their  master  to  the  flower'd  fields, — 
And  be  aveng'd  on  cursed  Tamora. 

Goths.  And,  as  he  saith,  so  say  we  all  with  him. 

Luc.  I  humbly  thank  him,  and  I  thank  you  all. 
But  who  comes  here,  led  by  a  lusty  Goth? 

Enter  a  Goth,  leading  Aaron,  with  his  Child  in 

his  Arms. 

2  Goth.   Renowned  Lucius,  from  our  troops  I 

To  gaze  upon  a  ruinous  monastery2; 

1  Scath  is  harm.     See  vol.  iv.  p.  345,  note  8. 

3  *  Shakspeare  has  so  perpetually  offended  against  chronology 


And  as  I  earnestly  did  fix  mine  eye 
Upon  the  wasted  building,  suddenly 
I  heard  a  child  cry  underneath  a  wall : 
I  made  unto  the  noise ;  when  soon  I  heard 
The  crying  babe  controll'd  with  this  discourse : 
Peace,  tawny  slave;  half  me,  and  half  thy  dam! 
Did  not  thy  hue  bewray  whose  brat  thoti  art, 
Had  nature  lent  thee  but  thy  mother's  look, 
Villain,  thou  might'' st  have  been  an  emperor: 
But  where  the  bull  and  cow  are  both  milk-white, 
They  never  do  beget  a  coal-black  calf 
Peace,  villain,  peace  ! — even  thus  he  rates  the  babe, — 
For  I  must  bear  thee  to  a  trusty  Goth; 
Who,  when  he  knows  thou  art  the  empress9  babe, 
Will  hold  thee  dearly  for  thy  mother's  sake. 
With  this,  my  weapon  drawn,  I  rush'd  upon  him, 
Surpris'd  him  suddenly ;  and  brought  him  hither, 
To  use  as  you  think  needful  of  the  man. 

Luc.  O  worthy  Goth !  this  is  the  incarnate  devil, 
That  robb'd  Andronicus  of  his  good  hand : 
This  is  the  pearl  that  pleas'd  your  empress'  eye3; 
And  here's  the  base  fruit  of  his  burning  lust. — 
Say,  wall-ey'd  slave,  whither  would'st  thou  convey 
This  growing  image  of  thy  fiend-like  face? 
Why  dost  not  speak  ?  What !  deaf?  No ;  not  a  word  ? 
A  halter,  soldiers ;  hang  him  on  this  tree, 
And  by  his  side  his  fruit  of  bastardy. 

that  no  very  conclusive  argument  can  be  deduced  from  the  par- 
ticular absurdity  of  these  anachronisms  relative  to  the  authenti- 
city of  Titus  Andronicus.  And  yet  the  ruined  monastery,  the 
popish  tricks,  &c.  that  Aaron  talks  of,  and  especially  the  French 
salutation  from  the  mouth  of  Titus,  are  altogether  so  very  much 
out  of  place  that  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  even  our  hasty 
poet  could  have  been  guilty  of  their  insertion,  or  would  have 
permitted  them  to  remain,  had  he  corrected  the  performance  of 
another/ — Steevens. 

3  Alluding  to  the  proverb,  '  A  black;  man  is  a  pearl  in  a  fair 
woman's  eye.' 


Aar.  Touch  not  the  boy,  he  is  of  royal  blood. 

Luc.  Too  like  the  sire  for  ever  being  good. — 
First,  hang  the  child,  that  he  may  see  it  sprawl; 
A  sight  to  vex  the  father's  soul  withal. 
Get  me  a  ladder. 

[A  Ladder  is  brought,  which  Aaron  is  obliged 

to  ascend.  '1 

Aar.  Lucius,  save  the  child ; 

And  bear  it  from  me  to  the  empress. 
If  thou  do  this,  I'll  show  thee  wondrous  things, 
That  highly  may  advantage  thee  to  hear : 
If  thou  wilt  not,  befall  what  may  befall, 
I'll  speak  no  more ;  But  vengeance  rot  you  all ! 

Luc.  Say  on;   and,  if  it  please  me  which  thou 
Thy  child  shall  live,  and  I  will  see  it  nourish'd. 

Aar.  An  if  it  please  thee?   why,  assure  thee, 
Twill  vex  thy  soul  to  hear  what  I  shall  speak; 
For  I  must  talk  of  murders,  rapes,  and  massacres,     11 
Acts  of  black  night,  abominable  deeds, 
Complots  of  mischief,  treason ;  villanies 
Ruthful  to  hear,  yet  piteously  perform'd4: 
And  this  shall  all  be  buried  by  my  death, 
Unless  thou  swear  to  me,  my  child  shall  live. 

Luc.  Tell  on  thy  mind ;  I  say,  thy  child  shall  live. 

Aar.  Swear,  that  he  shall,  and  then  I  will  begin. 

Luc  Who  should  I  swear  by  ?  thou  believ'st  no  god; 
That  granted,  how  canst  thou  believe  an  oath  ? 

Aar.  What  if  I  do  not?  as,  indeed,  I  do  not:* 
Yet,  for  I  know  thou  art  religious, 
And  hast  a  thing  within  thee,  called  conscience; 
With  twenty  popish  tricks  and  ceremonies, 
Which  I  have  seen  thee  careful  to  observe, — 
Therefore  I  urge  thy  oath : — For  that,  I  know, 

4  i.  e.  performed  in  a  manner  exciting  commiseration. 


An  idiot  holds  his  bauble5  for  a  god, 

And  keeps  the  oath,  which  by  that  god  he  swears ; 

To  that  I'll  urge  him : — Therefore,  thou  shalt  vow 

By  that  same  god,  what  god  soe'er  it  be, 

That  thou  ador'st  aud  hast  in  reverence, — 

To  save  my  boy,  to  nourish,  and  bring  him  up ; 

Or  else  I  will  discover  nought  to  thee. 

Luc.  Even  by  my  god,  I  swear  to  thee,  I  will. 

Aar.  First,  know  thou,  I  begot  him  on  the  empress. 

Luc.  O  most  insatiate,  luxurious6  woman ! 

Aar.  Tut,  Lucius !  this  was  but  a  deed  of  charity, 
To  that  which  thou  shalt  hear  of  me  anon : 
Twas  her  two  sons  that  murder'd  Bassianus ; 
They  cut  thy  sister's  tongue,  and  ravish'd  her, 
And  cut  her  hands ;  and  trimm'd  her  as  thou  saw'st. 

Luc.  O,  detestable  villain !  call'st  thou  that  trim- 

Aar.  Why,  she  was  wash'd,  and  cut,  and  trimm'd*; 
and  'twas 
Trim  sport  for  them  that  had  the  doing  of  it. 

Luc.  O,  barbarous,  beastly  villains,  like  thyself ! 

Aar.  Indeed,  I  was  their  tutor  to  instruct  them ! 
That  codding7  spirit  had  they  from  their  mother, 
As  sure  a  card  as  ever  won  the  set: 
That  bloody  mind,  I  think,  they  learn'd  of  me, 
As  true  a  dog  as  ever  fought  at  head8. — 

6  See  vol.  iii.  p.  315,  note  4.  Steevens  thinks  that  the  allusion 
is  to  a  custom  mentioned  in  Genesis,  xxiv.  9. 

6  i.  e.  lascivious. 

7  That  lore  of  bed-sports.  A  cod  is  a  pillow,  from  the  A.  S. 
coV&e;  as  in  the  following  sentence  from  the  Saxon  Chronicle, 
cited  by  Lye : — '  CpOopan  on  hir*  mycele  coVt>e>,  i.  e.  to  consult 
his  pillow.'  The  word  is  yet  used  in  the  north  for  a  pillow  or 

8  An  allusion  to  bulldogs ;  whose  generosity  and  courage  are 
always  shown  by  meeting  the  bull  in  front. 

' Amongst  the  dogs  and  beares  he  goes, 

Where,  while  he  skipping  cries — To  head, — to  head.' 

Davids  JSpiyTWRta* 



Well,  let  my  deeds  be  witness  of  my  worth; 
I  train'd  thy  brethren  to  that  guileful  hole, 
"Where  the  dead  corpse  of  Bassianus  lay : 
I  wrote  the  letter  that  thy  father  found9, 
And  hid  the  gold  within  the  letter  mention'd, 
Confederate  with  the  queen,  and  her  two  sons; 
And  what  not  done,  that  thou  hast  cause  to  rue, 
Wherein  I  had  no  stroke  of  mischief  in  it? 
I  play'd  the  cheater  for  thy  father's  hand ; 
And,  when  I  had  it,  drew  myself  apart, 
And  almost  broke  my  heart  with  extreme  laughter. 
I  pry'd  me  through  the  crevice  of  a  wall, 
When,  for  his  hand,  he  had  his  two  sons'  heads; 
Beheld  his  tears,  and  laugh'd  so  heartily, 
That  both  mine  eyes  were  rainy  like  to  his ; 
And  when  I  told  the  empress  of  this  sport, 
She  swounded 10  almost  at  my  pleasing  tale, 
And,  for  my  tidings,  gave  me  twenty  kisses. 

Goth.  What !  canst  thou  say  all  this,  and  never 

Aar.  Ay,  like  a  black  dog,  as  the  saying  is. 

Luc.  Art  thou  not  sorry  for  these  heinous  deeds? 

Aar.  Ay,  that  I  had  not  done  a  thousand  more. 
Even  now  I  curse  the  day  (and  yet,  I  think, 
Few  come  within  the  compass  of  my  curse), 
Wherein  I  did  not  some  notorious  ill ; 
As  kill  a  man,  or  else  devise  his  death ; 
Ravish  a  maid,  or  plot  the  way  to  do  it; 
Accuse  some  innocent,  and  forswear  myself: 
Set  deadly  enmity  between  two  friends ; 
Make  poor  men's  cattle  break  their  necks; 

9  Perhaps  Young  had  this  speech  in  his  thoughts  when  he 
made  his  Moor  say  :— 

'  I  urg'd  Don  Carlos  to  resign  his  mistress  ; 
I  forg'd  the  letter;  I  dispos'd  the  picture; 
I  hated,  I  despis'd,  and  I  destroy.' 

10  The  verb  to  swound,  which  we  now  write  swoon,  was  and* 
ently  in  common  use. 

:.  I.  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  235 

;  fire  on  barns  and  haystacks  in  the  night, 
id  bid  the  owners  quench  them  with  their  tears. 
t  have  I  digg'd  up  dead  men  from  their  graves, 
d  set  them  upright  at  their  dear  friends'  doors, 
en  when  their  sorrows  almost  were  forgot; 
d  on  their  skins,  as  on  the  bark  of  trees, 
Lve  with  my  knife  carved,  in  Roman  letters, 
L  not  your  sorrow  die,  though  lam  dead. 
t,  I  have  done  a  thousand  dreadful  things, 
willingly  as  one  would  kill  a  fly ; 
d  nothing  grieves  me  heartily  indeed, 
t  that  I  cannot  do  ten  thousand  more  n. 
Luc.  Bring  down  the  devil ;  for  he  must  not  die 12 
sweet  a  death,  as  hanging  presently. 
iar.  If  there  be  devils,  'would,  I  were  a  devil, 
live  and  burn  in  everlasting  fire ; 
I  might  have  your  company  in  hell, 
t  to  torment  you  with  my  bitter  tongue! 
tmc.  Sirs,  stop  his  mouth,  and  let  him  speak  no 

Enter  a  Goth. 

roth.  My  lord,  there  is  a  messenger  from  Rome,. 
»ires  to  be  admitted  to  your  presence. 
mc.  Let  him  come  near.  — 

Enter  iEMixius. 

lcome,  JEmilius,  what's  the  news  from  Rome? 
Emil.  Lord  Lucius,  and  you  princes  of  the  Goths, 
Roman  emperor  greets  you  all  by  me : 

Marlowe  has  been  supposed  to  be  the  author  of  this  play ; 
whoever  will  read  the  conversation  between  Barabas  and 
aore,  in  the  Jew  of  Malta,  Act  ii.  and  compare  it.with  these 
ments  of  Aaron,  will  perceive  much  reason  for  the  opinion.  ^ 

It  appears  from  these  words  that  the  audience  were  enter- 
d  with  part  of  the  apparatus  of  an  execution,  and  that 
n  was  mounted  on  a  ladder,  as  ready  to  be  turned  off. 


And,  for  he  understands  you  are  in  arms, 
He  craves  a  parley  at  your  father's  house, 
Willing  you  to  demand  your  hostages. 
And  they  shall  be  immediately  deliver'd. 

1  Goth.  What  says  our  general? 

Luc.  iEmilius,  let  the  emperor  give  his  pledges 
Unto  my  father  and  my  uncle  Marcus, 
And  we  will  come. — March  away13.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     Rome.     Before  Titus's  House. 

Enter  Tamora,  Chiron,  and  Demetrius,  dis- 

Tarn.  Thus,  in  this  strange  and  sad  habiliment, 
I  will  encounter  with  Andronicus ; 
And  say,  I  am  Revenge,  sent  from  below, 
To  join  with  him,  and  right  his  heinous  wrongs. 
Knock  at  his  study,  where,  they  say,  he  keeps, 
To  ruminate  strange  plots  of  dire  revenge; 
Tell  him,  Revenge  is  come  to  join  with  him, 
And  work  confusion  on  his  enemies.    [  They  knock. 

Enter  Titus,  above. 

Tit.  Who  doth  molest  my  contemplation? 
>  Is  it  your  trick,  to  make  me  ope  the  door ; 
That  so  my  sad  decrees  may  fly  away, 
And  all  my  study  be  to  no  effect? 
You  are  deceiv'd :  for  what  I  niean  to  do, 
See  here,  in  bloody  lines  I  have  set  down; 
And  what  is  written  shall  be  executed. 

Tarn.  Titus,  I  come  to  talk  with  thee. 

Tit.  No ;  not  a  word :  How  can  I  grace  my  talk, 
Wanting  a  hand  to  give  it  action? 
Thou  hast  the  odds  of  me,  therefore  no  more. 

13  Perhaps  this  is  a  stage  direction  crept  into  the  text. 


Tarn.  If  thou  didst  know  me,  thou  would'st  talk 
with  me. 

Tit.  I  am  not  mad;  I  know  thee  well  enough: 
Witness  this  wretched  stump,  witness  these  crimson 

lines ; 
Witness  these  trenches,  made  by  grief  and  care ; 
Witness  the  tiring  day,  and  heavy  night ; 
Witness  all  sorrow,  that  I  know  thee  well 
For  our  proud  empress,  mighty  Tamora : 
Is  not  thy  coming  for  my  other  hand? 

Tarn.  Know  thou,  sad  man,  I  am  not  Tamora ; 
She  is  thy  enemy,  and  I  thy  friend : 
I  am  Revenge ;  sent  from  the  infernal  kingdom, 
To  ease  the  gnawing  vulture  of  thy  mind, 
By  working  wreakful  vengeance  on  thy  foe.s. 
Come  down,  and  welcome  me  to  this  world's  light; 
Confer  with  me  of  murder  and  of  death : 
There's  not  a  hollow  cave,  or  lurking-place, 
No  vast  obscurity,  or  misty  vale, 
Where  bloody  murder,  or  detested  rape, 
Can  couch  for  fear,  but  I  will  find  them  out ; 
And  in  their  ears  tell  them  my  dreadful  name, 
Revenge,  which  makes  the  foul  offender  quake. 

Tit.  Art  thou  Revenge  ?  and  art  thou  sent  to  me, 
To  be  a  torment  to  mine  enemies  ? 

Tarn.  I  am;  therefore  come  down,  and  welcome  me. 

Tit.  Do  me  some  service,  ere  I  come  to  thee. 
Lo,  by  thy  side  where  Rape,  and  Murder,  stands ; 
Now  give  some  'surance  that  thou  art  Revenge, 
Stab  them,  or  tear  them  on  thy  chariot  wheels ; 
And  then  I'll  come,  and  be  thy  waggoner, 
And  whirl  along  with  thee  about  the  globes. 
Provide  thee  proper  palfreys,  black  as  jet, 
To  hale  thy  vengeful  waggon  swift  away, 
And  find  out  murderers  in  their  guilty  caves : 
And,  when  thy  car  is  loaden  with  their  he&.d&v 


I  will  dismount,  and  by  the  waggon  wheel 
Trot,  like  a  servile  footman,  all  day  long; 
Even  from  Hyperion's  rising  in  the  east, 
Until  his  very  downfal  in  the  sea. 
And  day  by  day  I'll  do  this  heavy  task, 
So  thou  destroy  Rapine  *  and  Murder  there. 

Tarn.  These  are  my  ministers,  and  come  with  me. 

Tit.   Are  them2  thy  ministers?  what  are  they 

Tarn.  Rapine,  and  Murder;  therefore  call'd  so, 
'Cause  they  take  vengeance  of  such  kind  of  men. 

Tit.  Good  lord,  how  like  the  empress'  sons  they 
And  you  the  empress!  But  we  worldly  men 
Have  miserable,  mad,  mistaking  eyes. 

0  sweet  Revenge,  now  do  I  come  to  thee : 
And,  if  one  arm's  embracement  will  content  thee, 

1  will  embrace  thee  in  it  by  and  by. 

[Exit  Titus,  from  above. 
Tarn.  This  closing  with  him  fits  his  lunacy : 
Whate'er  I  forge,  to  feed  his  brain-sick  fits, 
Do  you  uphold  and  maintain  in  your  speeches. 
For  now  he  firmly  takes  me  for  Revenge ; 
And,  being  credulous  in  this  mad  thought, 
I'll  make  him  send  for  Lucius,  his  son ; 
And,  whilst  I  at  a  banquet  hold  him  sure, 
I'll  find  some  cunning  practice  out  of  hand, 

1  Rape  and  rapine  appear  to  have  been  sometimes  used  anci- 
ently as  synonymous  terms.  Gower  De  Confessione  Amantis, 
lib.  t.  ver.  116,  uses  ravyne  in  the  same  sense : — 

'  For  if  thou  be  of  suche  covine 
To  get  of  love  by  ravyne, 
Thy  love/  &e. 

2  Similar  violations,  of  syntax,  according  to  modern  notions, 
are  not  nnfrequent  in  our  elder  writers.  Thus  Hobbes  in  bis 
History  of  the  Civil  Wars : — '  If  the  king  give  us  leave,  yon  or 
I  may  as  lawfully  preach  as  them  that  do.' 


To  scatter  and  disperse  the  giddy  Goths, 
Or,  at  the  least,  make  them  his  enemies. 
See,  here  he  comes,  and  I  must  ply  my  theme. 

Enter  Titus. 

Tit.  Long  have  I  been  forlorn,  and  all  for  thee : 
Welcome,  dread  fury,  to  my  woful  house ; 
Rapine,  and  Murder,  you  are  welcome  too : — 
How  like  the  empress  and  her  sons  you  are ! 
Well  are  you  fitted,  had  you  but  a  Moor : — 
Could  not  all  hell  afford  you  such  a  devil? — 
For,  well  I  wot,  the  empress  never  wags, 
But  in  her  company  there  is  a  Moor ; 
And,  would  you  represent  our  queen  aright, 
It  were  convenient  you  had  such  a  devil : 
But  welcome,  as  you  are.     What  shall  we  do  ? 

Tarn.  What  would'st  thou  have  us  do,  Andro- 
nicus?  . 

Dem.  Show  me  a  murderer,  I'll  deal  with  him. 

Chi.  Show  me  a  villain,  that  hath  done  a  rape, 
And  I  am  sent  to  be  reveng'd  on  him. 

Tarn.  Show  me  a  thousand,  that  hath  done  thee 
And  I  will  be  revenged  on  them  all. 

Tit.    Look  round  about  the  wicked  streets  of 
Rome ; 
And  when  thou  find'st  a  man  that's  like  thyself, 
Good  Murder,  stab  him ;  he's  a  murderer. — 
Go  thou  with  him ;  and  when  it  is  thy  hap, 
To  find  another  that  is  like  to  thee, 
Good  Rapine,  stab  him ;  he  is  a  ravisher. — 
Go  thou  with  them;  and  in  the  emperor's  court 
There  is  a  queen,  attended  by  a  Moor : 
Well  may'st  thou  know  her  by  thy  own  proportion, 
For  up  and  down  she  doth  resemble  thee; 
I  pray  thee,  do  on  them  some  violent  death, 
They  have  been  violent  to  me  and  mine. 



Tarn.  Well  hast  thou  lesson'd  us ;  this  shall  we  do. 
But  would  it  please  thee,  good  Andronicus, 
To  send  for  Lucius,  thy  thrice  valiant  son, 
Who  leads  towards  Rome  a  band  of  warlike  Goths, 
And  bid  him  come  and  banquet  at  thy  house : 
When  he  is  here,  even  at  thy  solemn  feast, 
I  will  bring  in  the  empress  and  her  sons, 
The  emperor  himself,  and  all  thy  foes; 
And  at  thy  mercy  shall  they  stoop  and  kneel, 
And  on  them  shalt  thou  ease  thy  angry  heart. 
What  says  Andronicus  to  this  device? 

Tit.  Marcus,  my  brother ! — 'tis  sad  Titus  calls. 

Enter  Marcus. 

Go,  gentle  Marcus,  to  thy  nephew  Lucius ; 
Thou  shalt  inquire  him  out  among  the  Goths : 
Bid  him  repair  to  me,  and  bring  with  him 
Some  of  the  chiefest  princes  of  the  Goths; 
Bid  him  eacarnp  his  soldiers  where  they  are: 
Tell  him,  the  emperor  and  the  empress  too 
Feast  at  my  house:  and  he  shall  feast  with  them. 
This  do  thou  for  my  love;  and  so  let  him, 
As  he  regards  his  aged  father's  life. 

Mar.  This  will  I  do,  and  soon  return  again. 


Tarn.  Now  will  I  hence  about  thy  business, 
And  take  my  ministers  along  with  me. 

Tit.  Nay,  nay,  let  Rape  and  Murder  stay  with  me ; 
Or  else  I'll  call  my  brother  back  again, 
And  cleave  to  no  revenge  but  Lucius. 

Tarn.  What  say  you,  boys  ?  will  you  abide  with 
Whiles  I  go  tell  my  lord  the  emperor. 
How  I  have  govern'd  our  determined  jest? 
Yield  to  his  humour,  smooth  and  speak  him  fair, 

And  tarry  with  him,  V\\\  1  corns.  ^ai\v. 


Tit.  I  know  them  all,  though  they  suppose  me 
And  will  o'er-reach  them  in  their  own  devices, 
A  pair  of  cursed  hell-hounds,  and  their  dam. 

Dem.  Madam,  depart  at  pleasure,  leave  us  here. 
Tarn,  Farewell,  A ndronicus:  Revenge  now  goes 
To  lay  a  complot  to  betray  thy  foes. 

[Exit  Tamora. 
Tit.  I  know,  thou  dost;  and,  sweet  Revenge, 

Chi.  Tell  us,  old  man,  how  shall  we  be  employ'd  ? 
Tit.  Tut,  I  have  work  enough  for  you  to  do. — 
Publius,  come  hither,  Caius,  and  Valentine ! 

Enter  Publius,  and  Others. 

Pub.  What's  your  will? 
Tit.  x       Know  you  these  two  ? 

Pub.  Th', empress'  sons, 

I  take  them,  Chiron  and  Demetrius. 

Tit.  Fye,  Publius,  fye !  thou  art  too  much  de- 
ceived ; 
The  one  is  Murder,  Rape  is  the  other's  name : 
And  therefore  bind  them,  gentle  Publius ; 
Caius,  and  Valentine,  lay  hands  on  them : 
Oft  have  you  heard  me  wish  for  such  an  hour, 
And  now  I  find  it;  therefore  bind  them  sure; 
And  stop  their  mouths,  if  they  begin  to  cry. 

[Exit  Titus. — Publius,  Sfc.  lay  hold  on 
Chiron  and  Demetrius. 
Chi.  Villains,  forbear :  we  are  the  empress'  sons. 
Pub.  And  therefore  do  we  what  we  are  com- 
Stop  close  their  mouths,  let  them  not  speak  a  word : 
Is  he  sure  bound?  look,  that  you  bind  them  fast. 

VOL.  IX.  Y 


Re-enter  Titus  Andronicus,  with  Lavinia; 
she  bearing  a  Bason,  and  he  a  Knife. 

Ht.  Come,  come,  Lavinia;   look,  thy  foes  are 

bound; — 
Sirs,  stop  their  mouths,  let  them  not  speak  to  me; 
But  let  them  hear  what  fearful  words  I  utter. — 
O  villains,  Chiron  and  Demetrius ! 
Here  stands  the  spring  whom  you  have  stain 'd  with 

This  goodly  summer  with  your  winter  mix'd. 
You  kill'd  her  husband;  and,  for  that  vile  fault, 
Two  of  her  brothers  were  condemned  to  death: 
My  hand  cut  off,  and  made  a  merry  jest: 
Both  her  sweet  hands,  her  tongue,  and  that,  more 

Than  hands  or  tongue,  her  spotless  chastity, 
Inhuman  traitors,  you  constrained  and  forc'd. 
TV  hat  would  you  say,  if  I  should  let  you  speak? 
Villains,  for  shame  you  could  not  beg  for  grace. 
Hark,  wretches,  how  I  mean  to  martyr  you. 
This  one  hand  yet  is  left  to  cut  your  throats ; 
Whilst  that  Lavinia  'tween  her  stumps  doth  hold 
The  bason,  that  receives  your  guilty  blood. 
You  know,  your  mother  means  to  feast  with  me, 
And  calls  herself  Revenge,  and  thinks  me  mad,— 
Hark,  villains ;  I  will  grind  your  bones  to  dust, 
And  with  your  blood  and  it,  I'll  make  a  paste ; 
And  of  the  paste  a  coffin3  I  will  rear, 
And  make  two  pasties  of  your  shameful  heads ; 
And  bid  that  strumpet,  your  unhallow'd  dam, 
Like  to  the  earth,  swallow  her  own  increase4. 

3  A  coffin  is  the  term  for  the  crust  of  a  raised  pie. 

4  i.  e.  her  own  produce.  '  The  earth's  increase'  is  the  jwodw* 
of  the  earth.  *  Then  shall  the  earth  bring  forth  her  mcreast.' 
Psalm  lxvii.  6.    So  in  The  Tempest,  Act  iv.  Sc.  1 : — 

4  Earth's  increase  and  foison  plenty.' 


This  is  the  feast  that  I  have  bid  her  too, 
And  this  the  banquet  she  shall  surfeit  on ; 
For  worse  than  Philomel  you  us'd  my  daughter, 
And  worse  than  Progne  I  will  be  reveng'd : 
And  now  prepare  your  throats. — Lavinia,  come, 

[He  cuts  their  Throats. 
Receive  the  blood :  and,  when  that  they  are  dead, 
Let  me  go  grind  their  bones  to  powder  small, 
And  with  this  hateful  liquor  temper  it; 
And  in  that  paste  let  their  vile  heads  be  bak'd. 
Come,  come,  be  every  one  officious 
To  make  this  banquet;  which  I  wish  may  prove 
More  stern  and  bloody  than  the  Centaur's  feast. 
So,  now  bring  them  in,  for  I  will  play  the  cook, 
And  see  them  ready  'gainst  their  mother  comes. 

[Exeunt,  bearing  the  dead  Bodies. 

The  same.    A  Pavilion,  with  Tables,  fyc. 

Enter  Lucius,  Marcus,  and  Goths,  with  Aaron, 


Luc.  Uncle  Marcus,  since  'tis  my  father's  mind, 
That  I  repair  to  Rome,  1  am  content. 

1  Goth.  And  ours,  with  thine 1,  befall  what  fortune 

Luc.  Good  uncle,  take  you  in  this  barbarous  Moor, 
This  ravenous  tiger,  this  accursed  devil; 
Let  him  receive  no  sustenance,, fetter  him, 
Till  he  be  brought  unto  the  empress'  face, 
For  testimony  of  her  foul  proceedings : 
And  see  the  ambush  of  our  friends  be  strong : 
I  fear,  the  emperor  means  no  good  to  us. 

Aar.  Some  devil  whisper  curses  in  mine  ear, 

'  l  '  And  oar  content  runs  parallel  with  thine,  be  the  consequence 
of  our  coming  to  Rome  what  it  may.' 


And  prompt  me,  that  my  tongue  may  utter  forth 
The  venomous  malice  of  my  swelling  heart? 

Luc.  Away,  inhuman  dog !  unhallow'd  slave  !-- 
Sirs,  help  our  uncle  to  convey  him  in. — 

[Exeunt  Goths,  with  Aaron.     Flourish. 
The  trumpets  show  the  emperor  is  at  hand. 

Enter  Saturninus  and  Tamora,  with  Tribunes, 

Senators,  and  Others. 

Sat.  What,  hath  the  firmament  more  suns  than  one? 
*  Luc.  What  boots  it  thee,  to  call  thyself  a  sun? 
Mar.  Rome's  emperor,  and  nephew,  break2  the 
These  quarrels  must  be  quietly  debated. 
The  feast  is  ready,  which  the  careful  Titus 
Hath  ordain'd  to  an  honourable  end, 
For  peace,  for  love,  for  league,  and  good  to  Rome : 
Please  you,  therefore,draw  nigh,and  take  your  places. 
Sat.  Marcus,  we  will. 

[Hautboys  sound.     The  Company  sit  down 
at  Table. 

Enter  Titus,  dressed  like  a  Cook,  Lavini  a,  veiled, 
Young  Lucius,  and  Others.  Titus  places  the 
Dishes  on  the  Table. 

Tit.  Welcome,  my  gracious  lord :  welcome,  dread 
queen ; 
Welcome,  ye  warlike  Goths;  welcome,  Lucius; 
And  welcome,  all:  although  the  cheer  be  poor, 
'Twill  fill  your  stomachs ;  please  you  eat  of  it 

Sat.  Why  art  thou  thus  attir'd,  Andronicus  ? 

Tit.  Because  I  would  be  sure  to  have  all  well, 
To  entertain  your  highness  and  your  empress. 

Tarn.  We  are  beholden  to  you,  good  Andronicus. 

Tit.  An  if  your  highness  knew  my  heart,  you  were. 
My  lord  the  emperor  resolve  me  this ; 

2  i.  e.  begin  the  parley.    We  yet  say,  he  breaks  his  mind. 


Was  it  well  done  of  rash  Virginius,       * 

To  slay  his  daughter  with  his  own  right  hand, 

Because  she  was  enforc'd,  stain'd,  and  deflour'd3? 

Sat.  It  was,  Andronicus. 

Tit.  Your  reason,  mighty  lord ! 

Sat.  Because  the  girl  should  not  survive  her  shame, 
And  by  her  presence  still  renew  his  sorrows. 

Tit.  A  reason  mighty,  strong,  and  effectual ; 
A  pattern,  precedent,  and  lively  warrant, 
For  me,  most  wretched  to  perform  the  like: — 
Die,  die,  Lavinia^  and  thy  shame  with  thee ; 

[He  kills  Lavinia. 
And,  with  thy  shame,  thy  father's  sorrow  die! 

Sat.  What  hast  thou  done,  unnatural,  and  unkind  ? 

Tit.  Xill'd  her,  for  whom  my  tears  have  made  me 
I  am  as  woful  as  Virginius  was : 
And  have  a  thousand  times  more  cause  than  he 
To  do  this  outrage ; — and  it  is  now  done.  ' 

Sat.  What, was  she  ravish'd  ?  tell,who  did  the  deed. 

Tit.  Will't  please  you  eat?  wnTt  please  your 
highness  feed  ? 

Tarn.  Why  hast  thou  slain  thine  only  daughter  thus  ? 

Tit.  Not  I ;  'twas  Chiron,  and  Demetrius : 
They  ravish'd  her,  and  cut  away  her  tongue, 
And  they,  'twas  they,  that  did  her  ail  this  wrong. 

Sat.  Go,  fetch  them  hither  to  us  presently. 

Tit.  Why,  there  they  are  both,  baked  in  that  pie ; 
Whereof  their  mother  daintily  hath  fed, 

3  Rowe  may  have  availed  himself  of  this  passage  in  The  Fair 
Penitent,  where  Sciolto  asks  Calista : — 

'  Hast  thou  Dot  heard  what  brave  Virginias  did? 

With  his  own  hand  he  slew  his  only  daughter/  &c 
Titus  Andronicus  (as  Steevens  observes)  is  incorrect  in  his  state- 
ment of  this  occurrence,  for  Virginia  died  un  violated.  Mr.  Bos- 
well  seems  to  think  this  is  qualified  by  his  saying  that  he  had 
more  cause  to  slay  his  daughter  than  Virginius. 



Eating  the  flesh  that  she  herself  hath  bred4. 
Tis  true,  'tis  true;  witness  my  knife's  sharp  point. 

[Killing  Tamora. 
Sat.  Die,  frantick  wretch,  for  this  accursed  deed. 

[Killing  Titus. 
Luc.  Can  the  son's  eye  behold  his  father  bleed? 
There's  meed  for  meed,  death  for  a  deadly  deed. 
[jKTitfs  Saturninus.    A  great  Tumult.    The 
People  in  confusion  disperse.     Marcus, 
Lucius,  and  their  Partisans  ascend  the 
Steps  before  Titus's  House. 
Mar.  You  sad-fac'd  men,  people  and  sons  of  Rome, 
By  uproar  sever'd,  like  a  flight  of  fowl 
Scatter'd  by  winds  and  high  tempestuous  gusts, 
O,  let  me  teach  you  how  to  knit  again 
This  scatter'd  corn  into  one  mutual  sheaf, 
These  broken  limbs  again  into  one  body. 

Sen.  Lest  Rome  herself  be  bane  unto  herself; 
And  she,  whom  mighty  kingdoms  court'sy  to, 
Like  a  forlorn  and  desperate  castaway, 
Do  shameful  execution  on  herself. 
But  if  my  frosty  signs  and  chaps  of  age, 
Grave  witnesses  of  true  experience, 
Cannot  induce  you  to  attend  my  words, — 
Speak,  Rome's  dear  friend;  [To  Lucius.]  as  erst 

our  ancestor, 
When  with  his  solemn  tongue  he  did  discourse 
To  lovesick  Dido's  sad  attending  ear, 
The  story  of  that  baleful  burning  night, 
When  subtle  Greeks  surpris'd  King  Priam's  Troy; 
Tell  us,  what  Sinon  hath  bewitch'd  our  ears, 

4  The  additions  made  by  Ravenscroft  to  this  scene  are  much 
of  a  piece  with  it: — 

'  Thus  cramm'd,  thon'rt  bravely  fattened  up  for  hell, 
And  thus  to  Pinto  I  do  serve  thee  up.'  [Stabs  the  Empress. 
And  then  '  A  curtain  drawn  discovers  the  heads  and  hands  of 
Demetrius  and  Chiron  hanging  up  against  the  wall ;  their  bodies 
ia  chairs  in  bloody  linen.' 


Or  who  hath  brought  the  fatal  engine  in, 

That  gives  our  Troy,  our  Rome,  the  civil  wound. — 

My  heart  is  not  compact  of  flint,  nor  steel ; 

Nor  can  I  utter  all  our  bitter  grief, 

But  floods  of  tears  will  drown  my  oratory, 

And  break  my  very  utterance ;  even  i'the  time 

When  it  should  move  you  to  attend  me  most, 

Lending  your  kind  commiseration : 

Here  is  a  captain,  let  him  tell  the  tale ; 

Your  hearts  will  throb  and  weep  to  hear  him  speak. 

Luc.  Then,  noble  auditory,  be  it  known  to  you, 
That  cursed  Chiron  and  Demetrius 
Were  they  that  murdered  our  emperor's  brother ; 
And  they  it  were  that  ravished  our  sister : 
For  their  fell  faults  our  brothers  were  beheaded ; 
Our  father's  tears  despis'd;  and  basely  cozen'd5 
Of  that  true  hand,  that  fought  Rome's  quarrel  out, 
And  sent  her  enemies  unto  the  grave. 
Lastly,  myself  unkindly  banished, 
The  gates  shut  on  me,  and  turn'd  weeping  out, 
To  beg  relief  among  Rome's  enemies ; 
Who  drown'd  their  enmity  in  my  true  tears. 
And  op'd  their  arms'  to  embrace  me  as  a  friend :  - 
And  I  am  the  turn'd-forth,  be  it  known  to  you, 
That  have  preserv'd  her  welfare  in  my  blood : 
And  from  her  bosom  took  the  enemy's  point, 
Sheathing  the  steel  in  my  adverit'rous  body. 
Alas !  you  know,  I  am  no  vaunter,  I ; 
My  scars  can  witness,  dumb  although  they  are, 
That  my  report  is  just,  and  full  of  truth. 
But,  soft ;  methinks,  I  do  digress  too  much, 
Citing  my  worthless  praise:  O,  pardon  me; 
For  when  no  friends  are  by,  men  praise  themselves. 

Mar.  Now  is  my  turn  to  speak ;  Behold  this  child, 
[Pointing  to  the  Child  in'  the  arms  of  an 

6  i.  e. '  and  he  basely  cozen'd.' 


Of  this  was  Tamora  delivered ; 

The  issue  of  an  irreligious  Moor, 

Chief  architect  and  plotter  of  these  woes ; 

The  villain  is  alive  in  Titus9  house, 

Damn'd  as  he  is,  to  witness  this  is  true. 

Now  judge,  what  cause  had  Titus  to  revenge 

These  wrongs,  unspeakable,  past  patience, 

Or  more  than  any  living  man  could  bear. 

Now  you  have  heard  the  truth,  what  say  you, 

Romans  ? 
Have  we  done  aught  amiss?  Show  us  wherein, 
And,  from  the  place  where  you  behold  us  now, 
The  poor  remainder  of  Andronici 
Will,  hand  in  hand,  all  headlong  cast  us  down6, 
And  on  the  ragged  stones  beat  forth  our  brains, 
And  make  a  mutual  closure  of  our  house. 
Speak,  Romans,  speak;  and,  if  you  say,  we  shall, 
Lo,  hand  in  hand,  Lucius  and  I  will  fall. 

JEmil.  Come,  come,  thou  reverend  man  of  Rome, 
And  bring  our  emperor  gently  in  thy  hand, 
Lucius  our  emperor ;  for,  well  I  know, 
The  common  voice  do  cry,  it  shall  be  so. 

Rom.  [Several speak.]  Lucius,  all  hail;  Rome's 
royal  emperor ! 

Lucius,  8fc.  descend. 

Mar.  Go,  go  into  old  Titus9  sorrowful  house ; 

[To  an  Attendant 
And  hither  hale  that  misbelieving  Moor, 
To  be  adjudg'd  some  direful  slaughtering  death, 
As  punishment  for  his  most  wicked  life. 

Rom.  [Several  speak.]  Lucius,  all  hail ;  Rome's 
gracious  governor! 

Luc.  Thanks,  gentle  Romans ;  May  I  govern  so, 
To  heal  Rome's  harms,  and  wipe  away  her  woe ! 
But,  gentle  people,  give  me  aim  awhile, — 

6  i.  e.  toe  the  poor  xemauvo&t}  &A.irii\  vnt  ug  down. 


For  nature  puts  me  to  a  heavy  task ; — 
Stand  all  aloof, — but,  uncle,  draw  you  near, 
Td  shed  obsequious  tears  upon  this  trunk : — 
O,  take  this  warm  kiss  on  thy  pale  cold  lips, 

[Kisses  Titus. 
These  sorrowful  drops  upon  thy  blood-stain'd  face, 
The  last  true  duties  of  thy  noble  son ! 

Mar.  Tear  for  tear,  and  loving  kiss  for  kiss, 
Thy  brother  Marcus  tenders  on  thy  lips : 
O,  were  the  sum  of  these  that  I  should  pay 
Countless  and  infinite,  yet  would  I  pay  them ! 

Luc.  Come  hither,  boy;  come,  come,  and  learn, 
of  us 
To  melt  in  showers :  Thy  grandsire  lov'd  thee  well : 
Many  a  time  he  danc'd  thee  on  his  knee, 
Sung  thee  asleep,  his  loving  breast  thy  pillow ; 
Many  a  matter  hath  he  told  to  thee, 
Meet,  and  agreeing  with  thine  infancy; 
In  that  respect  then,  like  a  loving  child, 
Shed  yet  some  small  drops  from  thy  tender  spring, 
Because  kind  nature  doth  require  it  so :  . 
Friends  should  associate  friends  in  grief  and  woe : 
Bid  him  farewell ;  commit  him  to  the  grave ;  . 
Do  him  that  kindness,  and  take  leave  of  him. 

Bay.  O  grandsire,  grandsire !  even  with  all  my 
Would  I  were  dead,  so  you  did  live  again ! — ■ 
O  lord,  I  cannot  speak  to  him  for  weeping ; 
My  tears  will  choke  me,  if  1  ope  my  mouth. 

Enter  Attendants,  with  Aaron. 

1  Rom.  You  sad  Andronici,  have  done  with  woes ; 
Give  sentence  on  this  execrable  wretch, 
That  hath  been  breeder  of  these  dire  events. 

Luc.  Set  him  breast-deep  in  earth,  and  famish  him ; 
There  let  him  stand,  and  rave  and  cry  for  food : 
If  any  one  relieves  or  pities  him, 



For  the  offence  he  dies.    This  is  our  doom : 
Some  stay,  to  see  him  fasten'd  in  the  earth7. 

Aar.  O,  why  should  wrath  be  mute,  and  fury  dumb  ? 
I  am  no  baby,  I,  that,  with  base  prayers, 
I  should  repent  the  evil  I  have  done ; 
Ten  thousand,  worse  than  ever  yet  I  did, 
Would  I  perform  if  I  might  have. my  will; 
If  one  good  deed  in  all  my  life  I  did, 
I  do  repent  it  from  my  very  soul. 

Luc.  Some  loving  friends  convey  the  emperor 
And  give  him  burial  in  his  father's  grave : 
My  father,  and  Lavinia,  shall  forthwith 
Be  closed  in  our  household's  monument. 
As  for  that  heinous  tiger,  Tamora, 
No  funeral  rite,  nor  man  in  mournful  weeds, 
No  mournful  bell  shall  ring  her  burial ; 
But  throw  her  forth  to  beasts,  and  birds  of  prey : 
Her  life  was  beast-like,  and  devoid  of  pity ; 
And,  being  so,  shall  have  like  want  of  pity. 
See  justice  done  to  Aaron,  that  damn'd  Moor, 
By  whom  our  heavy  haps  had  their  beginning : 
Then,  afterwards,  to  order  well  the  state ; 
That  like  events  may  ne'er  it  ruinate.  [Exeunt. 

7  That  just  ice  and  cookery  may  go  hand  in  hand  to  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  play,  in  Ravenscroft's  alteration  of  it,  Aaron  is  at  once 
racked  and  roasted  on  the  stage. 

All  the  editors  and  criticks  agree  in  supposing  this  play  spuri- 
ous. I  see  no  reason  for  differing  from  them ;  for  the  colour  of 
the  style  is  wholly  different  from  that  of  the  other  plays,  and 
there  is  an  attempt  at  regular  versification,  and  artificial  dotes, 
not  always  inelegant,  yet  seldom  pleasing.  The  barbarity  of  the 
spectacles,  and  the  general  massacre  which  are  here  exhibited, 
can  scarcely  be  conceived  tolerable  to  any  audience,  yet  we  are 
told  by  Jonson  that  they  were  not  only  borne  but  praised.  That 
Shakspeare  wrote  any  part,  though  Theobald  declares  it  incon- 
testable, I  see  no  reason  for  believing.  Johnson. 


U  not  to  reason  of  the  deed,  b 


lliritli*,  ^tintc  of  Hvxu 


Mr.  Douce  observes  that  '  the  very  great  popularity  of  this 
play  in  former  times  may  be  supposed  to  have  originated  from 
the  interest  which  the  story  must  hare  excited.  To  trace  the 
fable  beyond  the  period  in  which  the  favourite  romance  of 
Apollonius  Tyrius  was  composed,  would  be  a  vain  attempt :  that 
was  the  probable  original ;  but  of  its  author  nothing  decisive 
has  been  discovered.  Some  have  maintained  that  it  was  origi- 
nally written  in  Greek,  and  translated  into  Latin  by  a  Christian 
about  the  time  of  the  decline  of  the  Roman  empire ;  others  have 
given  it  to  Symposius,  a  writer  whom  they  place  in  the  eighth 
century,  because  the  riddles  which  occur  in  the  story  are  to  be 
found  in  a  work  entitled  Symposii  JEnigmata.  It  occurs  in  that 
storehouse  of  popular  fiction  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  and  its  anti- 
quity is  sufficiently  evinced  bj  the  existence  of  an  Anglo  Saxon 
version,  mentioned  in  Wanley's  list,  and  now  in  Bene't  College, 
Cambridge.  One  Constantino  is  said  to  have  translated  it  into 
modern  Greek  verse,  about  the  year  1500,  (this  is  probably  the 
MS.  mentioned  by  Dufresne  in  the  index  of  authors  appended  to 
his  Greek  Glossary),  and  afterwards  printed  at  Venice  in  1563. 
It  had  been  printed  in  Latin  prose  at  Augsburg  in  1471,  which 
is  probably  as  early  as  the  first  dateless  impression  of  the  Gesta 

*  '  Towards  the  latter  end  of  the  twelfth  century  Godfrey  of 
Viterbo,  in  his  Pantheon,  or  Universal  Chronicle,  inserted  this 
romance  as  part  of  the  history  of  the  third  Antiochus,  about  two 
hundred  years  before  Christ.  It  begins  thus  [MS.  Reg.  14, 
c.  xi.]  :— 

Filia  Seleuci  stat  clara  decore 
Matreque  defuncta  pater  arsit  in  ejus  amore 
Res  habet  effectum,  pressa  paella  dolet. 
The  resf  is  in  the  same  metre,  with  one  pentameter  only  to  two 
hexameters.' — TyrwhitU 


A  very  curious  fragment  of  an  old  metrical  romance  on  the 
subject  was  in  the  collection  of  the  late  Dr.  Farmer,  and  is  now 
in  my  possession.  This  we  have  the  authority  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt 
for  placing  at  an  earlier  period  than  the  time  of  Gower.  The 
fragment  consists  of  two  leaves  of  parchment,  which  had  beeo 
converted  into  the  cover  of  a  book,  for  which  purpose  its  edges 
were  cutoff,  some  words  entirely  lost,  and  the  whole  has  suffered 
so  much  by  time  as  to  be  scarcely  legible.  Yet  I  have  con- 
sidered it  so  curious  a  relic  of  our  early  poetry  and  language 
that  I  have  bestowed  some  pains  in  deciphering  what  remains, 
and  have  given  a  specimen  or  two  in  the  notes  toward  the  close 
of  the  play.  I  will  here  exhibit  a  further  portion,  comprising 
the  name  of  the  writer,  who  appears  to  have  been  Thomas  Vicary, 
of  Winborn  Minster,  in  Dorsetshire.  The  portion  I  have  given 
will  continue  the  story  of  Appolonius  (the  Pericles  of  the 
play)  ;— 

Wit  hys  wyf  in  gret  solas  « 

•      •      •      •      •      * 

He  lyvede  after  this  do  was, 
And  had  twey  sones  by  iunge  age 
That  wax  wel  farynge  men : 

the  kyndom  of  Antioche 

Of  Tire  and  of  Cirenen, 

Came  never  werre  on  hys  londe 

Ne  hungr.  ne  no  mesayse 

Bot  hit  yede  wel  an  hond, 

He  lyvede  well  at  ayse. 

He  wrot  twey  bokys  of  hys  lyf, 

That  in  to  hys  owene  bible  he  sette 

—  at  byddynge  of  hys  wyf, 

He  lafte  at  Ephese  thr  he  her  fette. 

He  rulde  hys  londe.  in  goud  manere, 

Tho  he  drow  to  age, 

Anategora  he  made  king  of  Tire, 

That  was  his  owene  heritage. 

— —  best  sone  of  that  empire 

He  made  king  of  Aitnage 

-  that  he  louede  dure, 

Of  Cirenen  thr  was  ■ 

Whan  thai  he  hadde  al  thys  y  dyght 

Cam  deth  and  axede  hys  fee, 

hys  soule  to  God  al  myght 

So  wol  God  thr  hit  bee, 

And  sende  ech  housbonde  grace 

For  to  lovye  so  hys  wyf 

That  cherysed  hem  wit  oute  trespace 

As  sche  clyde  hym  al  here  lyf, 


—  me  on  alle  lynes  space 
Heer  to  amende  oar  mysdede, 
In  blisse  of  heuene  to  hare  a  place; 
Amen  je  singe  here  y  rede. 
In  trouth  thys  was  translated 
Almost  at  Engelondes  ende, 

to  the  makers  stat 

Tak  sich  a  mynde, 

have  ytake  hys  bedys  on  bond 

And  sayde  hys  patr  nostr  &  crede, 

TAomas  vicary  y  understand 

At  Wymborne  mynstre  in  that  stede, 

y  thoaghte  yon  have  wryte 

Hit  is  nought  worth  to  be  knowe, 
Ze  that  woll  the  sothe  y  wyte 
Go  Under  and  men  wol  the  schewe, 
Now  Fader  &  sone  &  holy  gost 
To  wham  y  clemde  at  my  bygynninge, 
And  God  he  hys  of  myghtes  most 
Brynge^us  alle  to  a  good  endynge, 
Lede  us  wide  the  payne  of  helle 
O  God  lord  &  prsones  three 
In  to  the  blysse  of  heuene  to  dwelle, 
Amen  pr  Charite. 

Explicit  Appoloni  Tyrus  Rex  nobilis  &  vrtuosus,  &c. 

story  is  also  related  by  Gower  in  his  Gonfessio  Amantis, 
ii.  p.  175—185,  edit.  1554.  Most  of  the  incidents  of  the 
are  found  in  his  narration,  and  a  few  of  bis  expressions  are 
ionally  borrowed.  Gower,  by  his  own  acknowledgment, 
his  story  from  the  Pantheon  of  Godfrey  of  Viterbo ;  and 
athor  of  Pericles  professes  to  have  followed  Gower. 
aucer  also  refers  to  the  story  in  The  Man  of  Lawe's  Pro- 

'  Or  elles  of  Tyrins  Appoloni  us, 
How  that  the  cursed  King  Antiochus, 
Beraft  his  donghter  of  hire  maidenhede ; 
That  is  so  horrible  a  tale  for  to  rede,'  &c. 

ench  translation  from  the  Latin  prose,  evidently  of  the 
nth  century,  is  among  the  Royal  MSS.  in  the  British  Mu- 
,  20,  c.  ii.  There  are  several  more  recent  French  translations 
;  story :  •  one  under  the  title  of '  La  Chroniqne  d'Appolin  Roi 
jyr,'  4  to.  Geneva,  blk.  1.  no  date.  Another  by  Gilles  Cor- 
,  Paris,  1530,  8vo.  It  is  also  printed  in  the  seventh  vol.  of 
listoires  Tragiqaes  de  Belleforest,  12mo.  16*04 ;  and,  mo- 
zed  by  M.  Le  Brun,  was  printed  at  Amsterdam  in  IT  10  «&& 

)L.  IX.  Z 



Paris  in  1711.  120.    There  is  an  abstract  of  the  story  in  the 
Melanges  tirees  d'une  grande  Bibliotheque,  vol.  Ixiv.  p.  265. 

The  first  English. prose  version  of  the  story,  translated  by 
Robert  Copland,  was  printed  by  "Wynkyn  de  Worde,  1510.  It 
was  again  translated  by  T.  Twine,  and  originally  published  by 
W.  Howe,  1576.  Of  this  there  was  a  second  impression  in 
1607,  under  the  title  of  The  Patterne  of  painful  Adventures, 
containing  the  most  excellent,  pleasant,  and  variable  Historie  of 
the  strange  Accidents  that  befel  onto  Prince  Appolonins,  the 
Ladjfr  Lucina  his  Wife,  and  Tharsia  his  Daughter,  &c.  translated 
into  English  by  T.  Twine,  Gent.'  The  poet  seems  to  have  made 
use  of  this  prose  narration  as  well  as  of  Gower. 

'  That  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  this  drama,  was 
the  composition  of  Shakspear'e,  and  that  it  is  to  be  considered  at 
his  earliest  dramatic  effort,  are  positions,  of  which  the  first  has 
been  rendered  highly  probable  by  the  elaborate  disquisitions  of 
Messrs.  Steevens  and  Malone,  and  may  possibly  be  placed  in  t 
clearer  point  of  view  by  a  more  condensed  and  lucid  arrangement 
of  the  testimony  already  produced,  and  by  a  farther  discussion 
of  the  merits  and  peculiarities  of  the  play  itself;  while  the 
second  will,  we  trust,  receive  additional  support  by  inferences 
legitimately  deduced  from  a  comprehensive  survey  of  scattered 
and  hitherto  insulated  premises.' 

The  evidence  required  for  the  establishment  of  a  high  degree 
of  probability  under  the  first  of  these  positions,  necessarily 
divides  itself  into  two  parts  ;  the  external  and  the  internal  evi- 
dence.   The  former  commences  with   the  original  edition  of 
Pericles,  which  was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  books  by  Edward 
Blount,"  one  of  the  printers  of  the  first  folio  edition  of  Sbak- 
speare's  plays,  on  the  20th  of  May,  1608,  but  did  not  pass  the 
press  until  the  subsequent  year,  when  it  was  published,  not, 
as  might  have  been  expected,  by  Blount,  but  by  one  Henri 
Gosson,  who  placed  Shakspeare's  name  at  full  length  in  the 
title  page.     It  is  worthy  of  remark,  also,  that  this  edition 
was  entered  at  Stationers'  hall,  together  with  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra, and  that  it  (and  the  three  following  editions,  which  were 
also  in  quarto)  was  styled  in  the  title-page  the  much  admired  play 
of  Pericles.    As  the  entry,  however,  was  by  Blount,  and  the 
edition  by  Gosson,  it  is  probable  that  the  former  had  been  antici- 
pated by  the  latter,  through  the  procurance  of  a  playhouse  copj. 
It  may  also  be  added,  that  Pericles  was  performed  at  Shak- 
speare's own  theatre,  The  Globe.    The  next  ascription  of  this 
play  to  our  author  is  in  a  poem  entitled  The  Times  Displayed,  in 
Six  Sestyads,  by  S.  Sheppard,  4to.  1646,  dedicated  to  Philip 
Herbert,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  containing  in  the  ninth  stanst 
of  the  sixth  Sestiad  a  positive  assertion  of  Shakspeare's  property 
in  this  drama : — 


'  See  him  whose  tragick  oceans  Euripides 
Doth  equal,  and  with  Sophocles  we  may 
Compare  great  Shakspear  ;  Aristophanes 
Never  like  him  his  fancy  could  display, 
Witness  the  Prince  of  Tyre  His  Pericles.' 

is  high  eulogium  on  Pericles  received  a  direct  contradiction 
y  shortly  afterwards  from  the  pen  of  an  obscure  poet  named 
Lb  am,  who  hears,  however,  an  equally  strong  testimony  as  to 
ikspeare's  being  the  author  of  the  piece,  which  he  thus  pre- 
aes  to  censure:— 

'  But  Shakespeare,  the  plebeian  driller,  was 
Founder'd  in  his  Periclesf(&nd  must  not  pass.' 

)m  these  testimonies  in  1646  and  1652,  full  and  unqualified, 
I  made  at  no  distant  period  from  the  death  of  the  bard  to  whom 
y  relate,  we  have  to  add  the  still  more  forcible  and  striking 
;laration  of  Dryden,  who  tells  us  in  1677,  and  in  words  aa 
ong  and  decisive  as  he  could  select,  that— 

'  Sbakspeare's  own  muse  His  Pericles  first  bore.' 

he  only  drawback  on  this  accumulation  of  external  evidence 
the  omission  of  Pericles  in  the  first  edition  of  our  author's 
•rks  ;.  a  negative  fact  which  can  have  little  weight,  when  we 
sollect  that  both  the  memory  and  judgment  of  Heminge  and 
ndell,  the  poet's  editors,  were  so  defeotive,  that  they  had /or- 
ten  TroUus  and  Cressida,  until  the  entire  folio,  and  the  table 
contents,  had  been  printed,  and  admitted  Titus  Andronicus 
I  the  Historical  Play  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth,  probably  for  no 
ler  reasons  than  that  the  former  had  been,  from  its  unmerited 
pularity,  brought  forward  by  Shakspeare  on  his  own  theatre, 
>ugh  there  is  sufficient  internal  evidence  to  prove,  without  the 
dition  of  a  single  line ;  and  because  the  latter,  with  a  similar 
idilection  of  the  lower  orders  in  its  favour,  had  obtained  a 
nilar,  though  not  a  more  laboured  attention  from  our  poet,  and 
is  therefore  deemed  by  his  editors,  though  very  unnecessarily, 
requisite  introduction  to  the  two  plays  on  the  reign  of  that 
march,  which  Shakspeare  had  really  new-modelled.' 
'  It  cannot  consequently  be  surprising,  as  they  had  forgotten 
oilus  and  Cressida  until  the  folio  had  been  printed,  they  should 
re  forgotten  Pericles  until  the  same  folio  had  been  in  circula- 
n,  and  when  it  was  too  late  to  correct  the  omission ;  an  error 
tich  the  second  folio  has,  without  doubt  or  examination,  blindly 

<  Jf  the  external  evidence  in  support  of  Shakspeare  being  the 
tbor  of  the  greater  part  of  this  play  be  striking,  the  internal 



most  be  pronounced  still  more  so,  and,  indeed,  absolutely  de- 
cisive of  the  question ;  for,  whether  we  consider  tbo  style  and 
phraseology,  or  the  imagery,  sentiment,  and  humour,  the  approxi- 
mation to  oar  author's  uncontested  dramas  appears  so  close,  fre- 
quent, and  peculiar,  as  to  stamp  irresistible  conviction  on  the 

'  The  result  has  accordingly  been  such  as  might  have  been 
predicted,  under  the  assumption  of  the  play  being  genuine;  for 
the  more  it  has  been  examined  the  more  clearly  has  Shakspeare's 
large  property  in  it  been  established.  It  is  curious,  indeed,  to 
note  the  increased  tone  of  confidence  which  each  successive 
commentator  has  assumed,  in  proportion  as  he  has  weighed  the 
testimony  arising  from  the  piece  itself.  Rome,  in  his  first  edition, 
says,  "  it  is  owned  that  some  part  of  Pericles  certainly  was  written 
by  him,  particularly  the  last  act :"  Dr.  Farmer  observes  that  the 
hand  of  Shakspeare  may  be  seen  in  the  latter  part  of  the  play; 
Dr.  Percy  remarks  that  "  more  of  the  phraseology  used  in  the 
genuine  dramas  of  Shakspeare  prevails  in  Pericles  than  in  any  of 
the  other  six  doubted  plays."  Steevens  says  "I  admit  without 
reserve  that  Shakspeare — 

whose  hopeful  colours 

Advance  a  halffac'd  sun,  striving  to  shine,' 

is  visible  in  many  scenes  throughout  the  play ; — the  purpurei  pawn 
are  Shakspeare's,  and  the  rest  the  production  of  some  inglorious 
and  forgotten  play-wright ;" — adding,  in  a  subsequent  paragraph, 
that  Pericles  is  valuable,  "  as  the  engravings  of  Mark  Antonio 
are  valuable  not  only  on  account  of  their  beauty,  but  becaose 
they  are  supposed  to  have  been  executed  under  the  eye  of 
Raffaelle ;"  Malone  gives  it  as  his  corrected  opinion,  that "  the 
congenial  sentiments,  the  numerous  expressions  bearing  a  strik- 
ing similitude  to  passages  in  Shakspeare's  undisputed  plays, 
some  of  the  incidents,  the  situation  of  many  of  the  persons,  and 
in  various  places  the  colour  of  the  style,  all  these  combine  to  set 
his  seal  on  the  play  before  us,  and  furnish  us  with  internal  and 
irresistible  proofs,  that  a  considerable  portion  of  this  piece,  as 
it  now  appears,  was  written  by  him."  On  this  ground  he  thinks 
the  greater  part  of  the  three  last  acts  may  be  safely  ascribed  to 
bim ;  and  that  his  hand  may  be  traced  occasionally  in  the  other 
two.  "  Many  will  be  of  opinion  (says  Mr.  Douce)  that  it  con- 
tains more  that  Shakspeare  might  have  written  than  either  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,  or  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well." 

'  For  satisfactory  proof  that  the  style,  phraseology,  and  imagery 
of  the  greater  part  of  this  play  are  truly  Shakspearian,  the  reader 
has  only  to  attend  to  the  numerous  coincidences  which,  in  these 
respects,  occur  between  Pericles  and  the  poet's  subsequent  pro-. 


(tactions ;  similitudes  so  striking,  as  to  leave  no  doabt  that  they 
originated  from  one  and  the  same  source. 

*  If  we  attend,  however,  a  little  further  to  the  dramatic  con- 
struction of  Pericles,  to  its  humour,  sentiment,  and  character,  not 
only  shall  we  find  additional  evidence  in  favour  of  its  being,  in 
a  great  degree,  the  product  of  our  author,  but  fresh  cause,  it  is 
expected,  for  awarding  it  a  higher  estimation  than  it  has  hitherto 

Dr.  Drake  enters  much  more  at  large  into  the  argument  for 
establishing  this  as  a  juvenile  effort  of  our  great  poet,  and  for 
placing  the  date  of  its  composition  in  the  year  1500,  but  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  referring  the  reader  to  his  work  for 
these  particulars.    He  continues : — 

'  Steevens  thinks  that  this  play  was  originally  named  Pyra* 
tlis,  after  the  hero  of  Sidney's  Aroadia,  the  character,  as  he 
justly  observes,  not  bearing  the  smallest  affinity  to  that  of  the 
Athenian  statesman.  "  It  is  remarkable,"  says  he, "  that  many 
of  our  ancient  writers  were  ambitious  to  exhibit  Sidney's  wor- 
thies on  the  stage,  and  when  his  subordinate  heroes  were  ad- 
ranced  to  such  honour,  how  happened  it  that  Pyrocles,  their 
leader,  should  be  overlooked?  Musidorus  (his  companion), 
Argalus  and  Parthenia,  Phalantus  and  Eudora,  Andromana,  &c. 
furnished  titles  for  different  tragedies ;  and  perhaps  Pyrocles, 
in  the  present  instance,  was  defrauded  of  a  like  distinction. 
The  names  invented  or  employed  by  Sidney  had  once  such  popu- 
larity that  they  were  sometimes  borrowed  by  poets  who  did  not 
profess  to  follow  the  direct  current  of  his  fables,  or  attend  to  the 
strict  preservation  of  his  characters.  I  must  add,  that  the 
Appolyn  of  the  Story-book  and  Gower  could  only  have  been 
rejected  to  make  room  for  a  more  favourite  name ;  yet  however 
conciliating  the  name  of  Pyrocles  might  have  been,  that  of 
Pericles  could  challenge  no  advantage  with  regard  to  general 
predilection.  All  circumstances  therefore  considered,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  Shakspeare  designed  his  chief  character  to  be 
ealled  Pyrocles,  not  Pericles,  however  ignorance  or  accident 
might  have  shuffled  the  latter  (a  name  of  almost  similar  sound) 
into  the  place  of  the  former."  "  This  conjecture  will  amount 
almost  to  certainty  if  we  diligently  compare  Pericles  with  the 
Pyrocles  of  the  Arcadia ;  the  same  romantic,  versatile,  and  sen- 
sitive disposition  is  ascribed  to  both  characters,  and  several  of 
the  incidents  pertaining  to  the  latter  are  found  mingled  with  the 
adventures  of  the  former  personage,  while,  throughout  the  play, 
the  obligations  of  its  author  to  various  other  parts  of  the  romance 
may  be  frequently  and  distinctly  traced,  not  only  in  the  assump- 
tion of  an  image  or  a  sentiment,  but  in  the  adoption  of  the  very 
words  of  his  once  popular  predecessor,  proving  inoontestably 



the  poet's  familiarity  with  and  study  of  the  Arcadia  to  have  teen 
very  considerable. 

'  However  wild  and  extravagant  the  fable  of  Pericles  may 
appear,  if  we  consider  its  numerous  choruses,  its  pageantry, 
and  dumb  shows,  its  continual  succession  of  incidents,  and  the 
great  length  of  time  which  they  occupy,  yet  it  is,  we  may  Ven- 
ture to  assert,  the  most  spirited  and  pleasing  specimen  of  the 
nature  and  fabrio  of  our  earliest  romantic  drama  which  we 
possess,  and  the  most  valuable,  as  it  is  the  only  one  with  which 
Shakspeare  has  favoured  us.  We  should  therefore  welcome 
this  play  as  an  admirable  example  of  "  the  neglected  favourites 
of  oar  ancestors,  with  something  of  the  same  feeling  that  is  expe- 
rienced in  the  reception  of  an  old  and  valued  friend  of  our  fathers 
or  grandfathers.  Nay,  we  should  like  it  the  better  for  its  gothic 
appendages  of  pageants  and  choruses,  to  explain  the  intricacies 
of  the  fable ;  and  we  can  see  no  objection  to  the  dramatic  repre- 
sentation even  of  a  series  of  ages  in  a  single. night,  that  does  not 
apply  to  every  description  of  poem,  which  leads  in  perusal  from 
the  fireside  at  which  we  are  sitting,  to  a  succession  of  remote 
periods  and  distant  countries.  In  these  matters  faith  is  all- 
powerful  ;  and  without  her  influence,  the  most  chastely  cold  and 
critically  correct  of  dramas  is  precisely  as  unreal  as  the  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream,  or  the  Winter's  Tale" 

'  A  still  more  powerful  attraction  in  Pericles  is  that  the  inte- 
rest accumulates  as  the  story  proceeds j  for,  though  many  of  the 
characters  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  drama,  such  as  Antiochus 
and  his  Daughter,  Simonides  and  Thaisa,  Clean  and  Dionyza  dis- 
appear and  drop  into  oblivion,  their  places  are  supplied  by  more 
pleasing  and  efficient  agents,  'who  are  not  less  fugacious,  bnt 
better  calculated  for  theatric  effect.  The  inequalities  of  this 
production  are,  indeed,  considerable,  and  only  to  be  accounted 
for,  with  probability,  on  the  supposition  that  Shakspeare  either 
accepted  a  coadjutor,  or  improved  on  the  rough  sketch  of  a 
previous  writer,  the  former,  for  many  reasons,  seems  entitled  to 
a  preference,  and  will  explain  why,  in  compliment  to  his  dramatic 
friend,  he  has  suffered  a  few  passages,  and  one  entire  scene,  of  a 
character  totally  dissimilar  to  his  own  style  and  mode  of  com- 
position, to  stand  uncorrected ;  for  who  does  not  perceive  that 
of  the  closing  scene  of  the  second  act  not  a  sentence. or  a  word 
escaped  from  the  pen  of  Shakspeare. 

'  No  play,  in  fact,  more  openly  discloses  the  hand  of  Shak- 
speare than  Pericles,  and  fortunately  his  share  in  its  composition 
appears  to  have  been  very  considerable;  he  may  be  distinctly, 
though  not  frequently,  traced  in  the  first  and  second  acts ;  after 
which,  feeling  the  incompetency  of  his  fellow-labourer,  he  seems 
to  have  assumed  almost  the  entire  management  of  the  remainder, 


nearly  the  whole  of  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  acts  hearing  in- 
disputable testimony  to  the  genius  and  execution  of  the  great 

*  The  most  corrupt  of  Shakspeare's  other  dramas,  compared 
with  Pericles,  is  purity*itself.  The  metre  is  seldom  attended  to ; 
verse  is  frequently  printed  as  prose,  and  the  grossest  errors 
abound  in  every  page.  I  mention  these  circumstances  only  as 
an  apology  to  the  reader  for  having  taken  somewhat  more  licence 
with  this  drama  than  would  have  been  justifiable  if  the  old 
copies  had  been  less  disfigured  by  the  negligence  and  ignorance 
of  the  printer  or  transcriber/ — Malone. 

*  Shakspeare  and  his  Times,  by  Dr.  Drake,  vol.  ii.  p.  262 
and  seq. 



Antiochus,  King  of  Antioch. 
Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre. 

Simonides,  King  0/ Pentapolis  *. 

Cleon,  Governor  o/Tharsus. 

Lysimachus,  Governor  of  Mitylene. 

Cerimon,  a  Lord  of  Ephesus. 

Thaliard,  a  Lord  of  Antioch. 

Philemon,  Servant  to  Cerimon. 

Leonine,  Servant  to  Dionyza.    Marshal. 

A  Pandar,  and  his  Wife.    Boult,  their  Servant. 

Gower,  as  Chorus, 

The  Daughter  of  Antiochus.    Dionyza,  Wife  to  Cleon. 
Thaisa,  Daughter  to  Simonides. 
Marina,  Daughter  to  Pericles  and  Thaisa. 
Lychorida,  Nurse  to  Marina.    Diana. 

Lords,  Ladies,  Knights,  Gentlemen,  Sailors,  Pirates, 
Fishermen,  and  Messengers,  fyc, 

SCENE,  dispersedly  in  various  Countries  f. 

*  We  meet  with  Pentapolitana  regio,  a  country  in  Africa,  con- 
sisting of  five  cities,  Pentapolis  occurs  in  the  thirty-seventh 
chapter  of  King  Appolyn  of  Tyre,  1510 ;  in  Gower ;  the  Gesta 
Romanorum ;  and  Twine's  translation  from  it.  Its  site  is  marked 
in  an  ancient  map  of  the  world,  MS.  in  the  Cotton  Library,  Brit 
Mus.  Tiberius,  b.  v.  In  the  original  Latin  romance  of  Apollo- 
nius  Tyrius  it  is, most  accurately  called  Pentapolis  Cyrenorom, 
and  was,  as  both  Strabo  and  Ptolemy  inform  us,  a  district  of 
Cyrenaica  in  Africa,  comprising  five  cities,  of  whioh  Cyrene  was 

t  That  the  reader  may  know  through  how  many  regions  the 
scene  of  this  drama  is  dispersed,  it  is  necessary  to  observe  that 
Antioch  was  the  metropolis  of  Syria ;  Tyre  a  city  of  Phoenicia  in 
Asia;  Tharsus,  the  metropolis  of  Cilicia,  a  country  of  Asia 
Minor ;  Mitylene,  the  capital  of  Lesbos,  an  island  in  the  .JSgean 
sea ;  and  Ephesus,  the  capital  of  Ionia,  a  country  of  the  Lesser 



ACT  I. 

Enter  Gower1. 

Before  the  Palace  of  Antioch. 

To  sing  a  song  that  old2  was  sung, 
From  ashes  ancient  Gower  is  come  3 ; 
Assuming  man's  infirmities, 
To  glad  your  ear,  and  please  your  eyes. 
It  hath  been  sung  at  festivals, 
:   On  ember-eves,  and  holy  ales4; 
And  lords  and  ladies  in  their  lives 
Have  read  it  for  restoratives : 
The  purchase  5  is  to  make  men  glorious ; 
Et  bonum  quo  antiquius,  eo  melius. 

1  Chorus,  in  the  character  of  Gower,  an  ancient  English  poet, 
who  has  related  the  story  of  this  play  in  his  Confessio  Atnantis. 

2  i.  e.  that  of  old. 

3  The  defect  of  metre  (sung  and  come  being  no  rhymes)  points 
oat  that  we  should  read — 

'  From  ancient  ashes  Gower  sprung ;' 
alluding  to  the  restoration  of  the  Phoenif . 

4  That  is,  says  Dr.  Farmer,  by  whom  this  emendation  was. 
made,  church-ales.  The  old  copy  has  '  holy  days'  Gower's 
speeches  were  certainly  intended  to  rhyme  throughout. 

*  « The  purchase1  is  the  reading  of  the  old  copy;  whicji  Stee- 
vens,  among  other  capricious  alterations,  changed  to  purpose. 
That  Steevens  and  Malone  were  ignorant  of  the  true  mewn&^  <£ 

262  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

If  you,  bora  in  these  latter  times, 
When  wit's  more  ripe,  accept  my  rhymes, 
And  that  to  hear  an  old  man  sing, 
May  to  your  wishes  pleasure  bring, 
I  life  would  wish,  and  that  I  might 
Waste  it  for  you,  like  taper-light. — - 
This  Antioch  then,  Antiochus  the  Great 
Built  up  this  city  for  his  chiefest  seat; 
The  fairest  in  all  Syria; 
(I  tell  you  what  mine  authors  say) : 
This  king  unto  him  took  a  pheere6, 
Who  died  and  left  a  female  heir, 
So  buxom,  blithe,  and  full  of  face7, 
As  heaven  had  lent  her  all  his  grace ; 
With  whom  the  father  liking  took, 
And  her  to  incest  did  provoke : 
Bad  child,  worse  father !  to  entice  his  own 
To  evil,  should  be  done  by  none. 
By  custom,  what  they  did  begin, 
Was,  with  long  use,  account8  no  sin. 

the  word  purchase  I  have  shown  in  vol.  v.  p.  158,  note  21.  It 
was  anciently  used  to  signify  gain,  profit;  any  good  or  advantage 
obtained;  as  in  the  following  instances : — James  the  First,  when 
he  made  the  extravagant  gift  of  30,000/.  to  Rich,  said,  'Yoa 
think  now  that  yon  have  a  great  purchase ;  but  I  am  far  happier 
in  giving  yoa  that  sum  than  yoa  can  be  in  receiving  it.' 
'  No  purchase  passes  a  good  wife,  no  losse 
Is,  than  a  bad  wife,  a  more  cursed  crosse.' 

Chapman's  Georgics  of  Hesiod,  b.  ii.  44,  p,  33. 

'  Long  would  it  be  ere  thou  hast  purchase  bought, 
Or  welthier  wexen  by  such  idle  thought/ 

Hall,  satire  ii.  b.  2. 
*  Some  fall  in  Tbve  with  accesse  to  princes,  others  with  popu- 
lar fame  and  applause,  supposinge  they  are  things  of  greate  pur- 
chase, when  in  many  cases  they  are  but  matters  of  envy,  peril], 
and  impediment.' — Bacon  Adv.  of  Learning. 

6  Wife :  the  word  signifies  a  mate  or  companion, 

7  i.  e.  completely  exuberantly  beautiful.    A  full  fortune,  in 
Othello,  means  a  complete  one. 

8  Account  for  accounted. 


The  beauty  of  this  sinful  dame 

Made  many  princes  thither  frame9, 

To  seek  her  as  a  bed-fellow, 

In  marriage-pleasures  playfellow : 

Which  to  prevent,  he  made  a  law 

(To  keep  her.  still,  and  men  in  awe10), 

That  whoso  ask'd  her  for  his  wife, 

His  riddle  told  not,  lost  his  life : 

So  for  her  many  a  wight  did  die* 

As  yon  grim  looks  do  testify11. 

What  now  ensues,  to  the  judgment  of  your  eye 

I  give,  my  cause  who  best  can  justify12.    [Exit. 


Antioch.    A  Room  in  the  Palace* 

Enter  Antiochus,  Pericles,  and  Attendants. 

Ant.  Young  prince  of  Tyre1,  you  have  at  large 
The  danger  of  the  task  you  undertake. 

Per.  I  have,  Antiochus,  and  with  a  soul 
Embolden'd  with  the  glory  of  her  praise, 
Think  death  no  hazard,  in  this  enterprise.  [Musick. 

*  i.  e.  shape  or  direct  their  coarse  thither. 
10  *  To  keep  her  still  to  himself,  and  to  deter  others  from  de- 
manding her  in  marriage.' 

II  Gower  must  he  supposed  to  point  to  the  scene  of  the  palace 
gate  at  Antioch,  on  which  the  heads  of  those  unfortunate  wights 
were  fixed. 

13  Which  (the  judgment  of  jour  eye)  best  can  justify ,  i.  e. 
prove  its  resemblance  to  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  Thus 
afterward  :— 

'  When  thou  shall  kneel  And  justify  in  knowledge.' 

1  It  does  not  appear  in  the  present  drama  that  the  father  of 
Pericles  is  living.  By  prince,  therefore,  throughout  this  play, 
we  are  to  understand  prince  regnant.  In  the  Gesta  Romanorum 
Appolonius  is  king  of  Tyre ;  and  Appolyn  in  Copland's  transla- 
tion-from  the  French.  In  Twine's  translation  he  is,  repeatedly 
called  prince  of  Tyrus,  as  he  is  in  Gower. 

264  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

Ant.  Bring  in  our  daughter,  clothed  like  a  bride2, 
For  the  embracements  even  of  Jove  himself; 
At  whose  conception  (till  Lucina  reign'd, 
Nature  this  dowry  gave,  to  glad  her  presence3), 
The  senate-house  of  planets  all  did  sit, 
To  knit  in  her  their  best  perfections. 

Enter  the  Daughter  of  Antiochus. 

Per.  See,  where  she  comes,  apparell'd  like  the 
Graces  her  subjects,  and  her  thoughts  the  king 
Of  every  virtue  gives  renown  to  men4 ! 
Her  face,  the  book  of  praises  5,  where  is  read 
Nothing  but  curious,  pleasures,  as  from  thence 
Sorrow  were  ever  ras'd,  and  testy  wrath 
Could  never  be  her  mild  companion6. 

•  *  In  the  old  copy  this  line  stands : — 

'  Mustek,  bring  in  oar  daughter,  clothed  like  a  bride.' 
M alone  thinks  it  a  marginal  direction,  inserted  in  the  text  by 
mistake.     Mr.  Boswell  thinks  it  only  an  Alexandrine,  and  adds, 
'  It  does  not  seem  probable  that  musick  would  commence  at  the 
close  of  Pericles'  speech,  without  an. order  from  the  king.' 

3  The  words  whose  and  her  refer  to  the  daughter  of  Antiochus. 
The  construction  is, '  at  whose  conception  the  senate-house  of 
planets  all  did  sit,'  &c. ;  and  the  words,  '  till  Lucina  reign'd*, 
Nature,'  &c.  are  parenthetical.  The  leading  thought  may  hare 
been  taken  from  Sidney's  Arcadia,  book  ii. :— '  The  senate-house 
of  the  planets  was  at  no  time  to  set  for  the  decreeing  of  perfec- 
tion in  a  man,'  &c.    Thus  also  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  viii.  511: 

' all  heaven, 

And  happy  constellations,  on  that  hour 
Shed  their  selectest  influence.' 

*  '  The  Graces  are  her  subjects,  and  her  thoughts  the  sore- 
reign  of  every  virtue  that  gives  renown  to  men/  The  ellipsis  in 
the  second  line  is  what  obscured  this  passage,  which  Steeveas 
would  have  altered,  because  he  did  not  comprehend  it. 

5  '  Her  face  is  a  book  where  may  be  read  all  that  is  praise* 
worthy,  every  thing  that  is  the  cause  of  admiration  and  praise.' 
Shakspeare  has  often  this  image. 

6  By  '  her  mild  companion' '  the  companion  of  her  mildness' 
is  meant. 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  265r 

Ye  gods  that  made  me  man,  and  sway  in  love, 

That  have  inflam'd  desire  in  my  breast, 

To  taste  the  fruit  of  yon  celestial  tree, 

Or  die  in  the  adventure,  be  my  helps, 

As  I  am  son  and  servant  to  your  will, 

To  compass  such  a  boundless  happiness! 

Ant.  Prince  Pericles, 

Per.  That  would  be  son  to  great  Antiochus. 

Ant.  Before  thee  stands  this  fair  Hesperides7, 
With  golden  fruit,  but  dangerous  to  be  touch'd; 
For  death-like  dragons  here  affright  thee  hard : 
Her  face,  like  heaven,  enticeth  thee  to  view 
Her*  countless  glory,  which  desert  must  gain : 
And  which,  without  desert,  because  thine  eye 
Presumes  to  reach,  all  thy  whole  heap  must  die. 
Yon  sometime  famous  princes,  like  thyself, 
Drawn  by  report,  adventurous  by  desire, 
Tell  thee  with  speechless,  tongues,  and  semblance 

That  without  covering,  save  yon  field  of  stars 8, 
They  here  stand  martyrs,  slain  in  Cupid's  wars; 
And  with  dead  cheeks  advise  thee  to  desist,  % 
For  going9  on  death's  net,  whom  none  resist. 

Per.  Antiochus,  I  thank  thee,  who  hath  taught 
My  frail-mortality  to  know  itself, 
And  by  those  fearful  objects  to  prepare 
This  body,  like  to  them,  to  what  1  must10: 

7  Hespefides  is  here  taken  for  the  name  of  the  garden  in  which 
the  golden  apples  were  kept ;  as  we  find  it  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  Act  iv.    See  vol.  ii.  p.  370,  note  26. 

8  Thus  Lucan,  lib.  yii : — 

' ccelo  tegitur  qui  non  habet  urnam.' 

9  i.  e.  'for  fear  of  going/  or  '  lest  they  should  go.'  See  yol.  i. 
p.  109,  note  12 ;  and  vol.  iii.  p.  284,  note  4.  Dr.  Percy  pro- 
posed to  read,  '  in  death's  net ;'  but  on  and  in  were  anciently 
used  the  one  for  the  other. 

10  That  is,  'to  prepare  this  body  for  that  state  to  which  I 
most  come.* 

VOL.  IX.  A  A 

206  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

For  death  remember'd,  should  be  like  a  mirror, 
Who  tells  us,  life's  but  breath;  to  trust  it,  error. 
I'll  make  my  will  then;  and  as  sick  men  do, 
Who  know  the  world,  see  heaven,  but  feeling  woe11, 
Gripe  not  at  earthly  joys,  as  erst  they  did ; 
So  I  bequeath  a  happy  peace  to  you, 
And  all  good  men,  as  every  prince  should  do; 
My  riches  to  the  earth  from  whence  they  Came; 
But  my  unspotted  fire  of  lore  to  you. 

[  To  the  Daughter  of  Antiochus. 
Thus  ready  for  the  way  of  life  or  death, 
I  wait  the  sharpest  blow,  Antiochus. 

Ant.  Scorning  advice. — Read  the  conclusion  then  \ 
Which  read  and  not  expounded,  'tis  decreed, 
As  these  before  thee  thou  thyself  shalt  bleed. 

Daugh.   In  all,  save  that,  may'st  thou  prove 
prosperous ! 
In  all,  save  that,  I  wish  thee  happiness 1S ! 

Per.  Like  a  bold  champion,  I  assume  the  lists, 
Nor  ask  advice  of  any  other  thought 
But  faithfulness,  and  courage 1S. 

[He  reads  the  Riddle.] 

I  am  no  viper,  yet  I  feed 
On  mother's  flesh,  which  did  me  breed: 
I  sought  a  husband,  in  which  labour, 
I  found  that  kindness  in  a  father*. 

11  *  I  will  act  as  sick  men  do ;  who  having  had  experience  of 
the  pleasures  of  the  world,  and  only  a  visionary  and  distant 
prospect  of  heaven,  have  neglected  the  latter  for  the  former ;  bat 
at  length,  feeling  themselves  decaying,  grasp  no  longer  al  tem- 
poral pleasures,  bat  prepare  calmly  for  futurity.' 

w  The  old  copy  reads : — 

'  Of  all  said  yet,  may'st  thou  prove  prosperous ; 
Of  all  said  yet,  I  wish  thee  happiness !' 
The  emendation  is  Mr.  Mason's. 

13  This  is  from  the  third  book  of  Sidney's  Arcadia : — 'Where- 
upon ashing  advice  of  no  other  thought  butfaithfulnesse  and  cowragt, 
he  presently  lighted  from  VAa  wrotoie,'  &.c« 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  207 

He' 8  father,  son,  and  husband  mild, 
I  mother,  wife,  and  yet  his  child* 
How  they  may  be,  and  yet  m  two. 
As  you  will  live,  resolve  it  you. 

Sharp  physick  is  the  last14 :  hut  O  you  powers ! 
That  give  heaven  countless  eyes 15  to  view  men's  acts, 
Why  cloud  they  not  their  sights  perpetually l6, 
If  this  he  true,  which  makes  me  pale  to  read  it? 
Fair  glass  of  light,  I  lov'd  you,  and  could  still, 

[Takes  hold  of  the  Hand  of  the  Princess* 
Were  not  this  glorious  casket  stored  with  ill : 
But  I  must  tell  you, — now,  my  thoughts  revolt; 
For  he's  no  man  on  whom  perfections  wait17. 
That  knowing  sin  within,  will  touch  the  gate. 
You're  a  fair  viol,  and  your  sense  the  strings  r 
Who,  finger'd  to  make  man  his  lawful  musick, 
Would  draw  heaven  down,  and  all  the  gods  to 

hearken ; 
But,  being  play'd  upon  before  your  time, 
Hell  only  danceth  at  so  harsh  a  chime: 
Good  sooth,  1  care  not  for  you 

Ant.  Prince  Pericles,  touch  not18,  upon  thy  life, 

14  i.e.  the  intimation  in  the  last  line  of  the  riddle,  that  his 
life  depends  on  resolving  it;  which  he  properly  enough  calls 
sharp  physick,  or  a  bitter  potion. 

15  Thus  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  :— 

' who  more  engilds  the  night 

Than  all  yon  fiery  oes  and  eyes  of  light. 

16  ■  stars,  hide  your  fires, 

Let  not  light  see/  &c.  Macbeth, 

17  i.e.  he  is  no  perfect  or  honest  man,  that  knowing,  &c.  . 

18  This  is  a  stroke  of  nature.  The  incestuous  king  cannot 
bear  to  see  a  rival  touch  the  hand  of  the  woman  he  loves.  His 
jealousy  resembles  that  of  Antony : — 

' to  let  him  be  familiar  with 

My  play-fellow,  your  hand ;  this  kingly  seal 
And  plighter  of  high  hearts.' 
Malefort,  in  Massinger's  Unnatural  Combat,  expresses  the  like 
impatient  jealousy,  when  Beaufort  touches  his  daughter  Theo- 
crine,  to  whom  he  was  betrothed. 

268  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

For  that's  an  article  within  our  law, 

As  dangerous  as  the  rest.     Your  time's  expir'd ; 

Either  expound  now,  or  receive  your  sentence. 

Per.  Great  king, 
Few  love  to  hear  the  sins  they  love  to  act; 
Twould  'braid  yourself  too  near  for  me  to  tell  it 
Who  has  a  book  of  all  that  monarchs  do, 
He's  more  secure  to  keep  it  shut,  than  shown ; 
For  vice  repeated,  is  like  the  wand 'ring  wind, 
Blows  dust  in  others'  eyes,  to  spread  itself19; 
And  yet  the  end  of  all  is  bought  thus, dear, 
The  breath  is  gone,  and  the  sore  eyes  see  clear 
To  stop  the  air  would  hurt  them.  The  blind  mole  casts 
Copp'd20  hills  towards  heaven,  to  tell,  the  earth  is 

By  man's  oppression21 ;  and  the  poor  worm22  doth 
die  for't. 

w  *  The  man  who  knows  the  ill  practices  of  princes  is  unwise 
if  he  reveals, what  he  knows ;  for  the  publisher  of  vicious  actions 
resembles  the  wind,  which,  while  it  passes  along,  blows  dost 
into  men's  eyes.  When  the  blast  is  over,  the  eyes  that  hare 
been  affected  by  the  dust,  though  sore,  see  clear  enough  to  stop 
for  the  future  the  air  that  would  annoy  them/  Pericles  means 
by  this  similitude  to  show  the  danger  of  revealing  the  crimes  of 
princes ;  for  as  they  feel  hurt  by  the  publication  of  their  shame, 
they  will  of  course  prevent  a  repetition  of  it,  by  destroying  the 
person  who  divulged.  He  pursues  the  same  idea  in  the  instance 
of  the  mole. 

90  *  Copp'd  hills '  are  hills  rising  in  a  conical  form,  something 
of  the  shape  of  a  sugarloaf.  Thus  in  Horman's  Vulgaria,  1519 : 
*  Sometime  men  wear  copped  caps  like  a  sugar  loaf.'  So  Baret: 
'  To  make  copped,  or  sharpe  at  top ;  cacumino.'  In  A.  S.  cop  is 
a  head.     See  vol.  iii.  p.  434,  note  3  ;  and  vol.  viii.  p.  352,  note  6. 

91  The  earth  is  oppressed  by  the  injuries  which  crowd  upon 
her.  Steevens  altered  throng'd  to  wrong' d;  but  apparently  with- 
out necessity. 

93  The  mole  is  called  poor  worm  as  a  term  of  commiseration. 
In  The  Tempest,  Prospero,  speaking  to  Miranda,  says,  'Poor 
worm,  thou  art  infected.'  The  mole  remains  seoure  till  it  has 
thrown  up  those  hillocks  which  betray  his  course  to  the  mole- 

SC.  I,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  969 

Kings  are  earth's  gods :  in  vice  their  law's  their  will ; 
And  if  Jove  stray,  who  dares  say,  Jove  doth  ill? 
It  is  enough  you  know;  and  it  is  fit, 
What  being  more  known  grows  worse,  to  smother  it. 
All  love  the  womb  that  their  first  beings  bred, 
Then  give  my  tongue  like  leave  to  love  my  head. 
Ant.  Heaven,  that  I  had  thy  head !  he  has  found 

the  meaning ; — 
But  I  will  gloze23  with  him.  [Aside.]  Young  prince 

of  Tyre, 
Though  by  the  tenour  of  our  strict  edict, 
Your  exposition  misinterpreting, 
We  might  proceed  to  cancel  of  your  days24; 
Yet  hope,  succeeding  from  so  fair  a  tree 
As  your  fair  self,  doth  tune  us  otherwise: 
Forty  days  longer  we  do  respite  you ; 
If  by  which  time  our  secret  be  undone, 
This  mercy  shows,  we'll  joy  in  such  a  son: 
And  until  then,  your  entertain  shall  be, 
As  doth  befit  our  honour,  and  your  worth. 

[Exeunt  Ant.  his  Daughter,  and  Attend. 
Per.  How  courtesy  would  seem  to  cover  sin ! 
When  what  is  done  is  like  a  hypocrite, 
The  which  is  good  in  nothing  but  in  sight. 
If  it  be  true  that  I  interpret  false, 
Then  were  it  certain,  you  were  not  so  bad, 
As  with  foul  incest  to  abuse  your  souj ; 
Where25  now  you're  both  a  father  and  a  son, 
By  your  untimely  claspings  with  your  child, 
(Which  pleasure  fits  a  husband,  not  a  father) ; 
And  she  an  eater  of  her  mother's  flesh, 

98  Flatter,  insinuate. 

94  To  the  destruction  of  jour  life. 

85  Where  has  here  the  power  of  whereas ;  as  in  other  passages 
of  these  plays.  See  vol.  i.  p.  139  j  ii.  327 ;  iii.  73,  &c.  It  oc- 
ean again  with  the  same  meaning  in  Act  ii.  So.  3,  of  this  yla$» 

A  A2 

270  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

By  the  defiling  of  her  parent's  bed ; 
And  both  like  serpents  are,  who  though  they  feed 
On  sweetest  flowers,  yet  they  poison  breed. 
Antioch,  farewell !  for  wisdom  sees,  those  men 
Blush  not  in  actions  blacker  than  the  night, 
Will  shun  *  no  course  to  keep  them  from  the  light 
One1  sin,  I  know,  another  doth  provoke ; 
Murder's  as  near  to  lust,  as  flame  to  smoke. 
Poison  and  treason  are  the  hands  of  sin, 
Ay,  and  the  targets,  to  put  off  the  shame : 
Then,  lest  my  life  be  cropp'd  to  keep  you  clear27, 
By  flight  I'll  shun  the  danger  which  I  fear.    [Exit. 

Re-enter  Antiochus. 

Ant.  He  hath  found  the  meaning,  for  the  which 
we  mean  . 
To  have  his  head. 

He  must  not  live  to  trumpet  forth  my  infamy, 
Nor  tell  the  world,  Antiochus  doth  sin 
In  such  a  loathed  manner : 
And  therefore  instantly  this  prince  must  die; 
For  by  his  fall  my  honour  must  keep  high. 
Who  attends  on  us  there? 

Enter  Thali  ard. 

Thai.  Doth  your  highness  call? 

Ant.  Thaliard,  you're  of  our  chamber,  and  our 
-  mind 

38  The  old  copy  erroneously  reads  shew.  The  emendation  is 
Malone's.  The  expression  here  is  elliptical : — '  For  wisdom  sees 
that  those  men  who  do  not  blush  to  commit  actions  blacker  than 
the  night,  will  not  shun  any  coarse  in  order  to  preserve  them 
from  being  made  publick.' 

37  '  To  prevent  any  suspicion  from  falling  on  you/  So  in 
Macbeth : — 

' •  always  thought,  that  I 

Require  a  clearness.* 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  271 

Partakes88  her  private  actions  to  your  secrecy; 
And  for  your  faithfulness  we  will  advance  you. 
Thaliard,  behold,  here's  poison,  and  here's  gold ; 
We  hate  the  prince  of  Tyre,  and  thou  must  kill  him; 
It  fits  thee  not  to  ask  the  reason  why, 
Because  we  bid  it.     Say,  is  it  done  ? 

Thai  My  lord, 

Tis  done. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Ant.  Enough. 
Let  your  breath  cool  yourself,  telling  your  haste  29. 

Mess.  My  lord,  Prince  Pericles  is  fled. 

[Exit  Messenger. 

Ant.  As  thou 

Wilt  live,  fly  after :  and,  as  an  arrow,  shot 
From  a  well  experienc'd  archer,  hits  the  mark 
His  eye  doth  level  at,  so  ne'er  return, 
Unless  thou  say,  Prince  Pericles  is  dead. 

Thai.  My  lord,  if  I 
Can  get  him  once  within  my  pistol's  length, 
111  make  him  sure;  so  farewell  to  your  highness. 


Ant.  Thaliard,  adieu !  till  Pericles  be  dead, 
My  heart  can  lend  no  succour  to  my  head.     [Exit. 

SCENE  II.     Tyre.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  Pericles,  Helicanus,  and  other  Lords. 

*  * 

Per.    Let  none  disturb  us:    Why  should  this 
change  of  thought *  ? 

28  In  The  Winter's  Tale  the  word  partake  is  used  in  an  active 
sense  for  participate  .*— 

'  — — —  your  exultation 
Partake  to  every  one.' 
39  These  words  are  addressed  to  the  Messenger,  who  enters 
in  baste. 

i  « Why  should  this  change'of  thought  V  This  \%  V\v*\fc*\- 

ing  of  the  old  copies ;  which  Steeveus  changed  to,  *  YfVf  ta\%  ckat$* 

272  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

The  sad  companion,  dull-ey'd  melancholy, 

By  me  so  us'd  a  guest  is,  not  an  hour, 

In  the  day's  glorious  walk,  or  peaceful  night 

(The  tomb  where  grief  should  sleep),  can  breed  me 

Here  pleasures  court  mine  eyes,  and  mine  eyes  shun 

And  danger,  which  I  feared,  is  at  Antioch, 
TV  hose  arm  seems  far  too  short  to  hit  me  here : 
Yet  neither  pleasure's  art  can  joy  my  spirits, 
Nor  yet  the  other's  distance  comfort  me. 
Then  it  is  thus:  the  passions  of  the  mind, 
That  have  their  first  conception  by  misdread, 
Have  after-nourishment  and  life  by  care ; 
And  what  was  first  but  fear  what  might  be  done, 
Grows  elder  now,  and  cares  it  be  not  done. 
And  so  with  me; — the  great  Antjochus 
('Gainst  whom  I  am  too  little  to  contend, 
Since  he's  so  great,  can  make  his  will  his  act), 
Will  think  me  speaking,  though  I  swear  to  silence; 
Nor  boots  it  me  to  say,  I  honour  him2, 
If  he  suspect  I  may  dishonour  him : 
And  what  may  make  him  blush  in  being  known. 
He'll  stop  the  course  by  which  it  might  be  known; 
With  hostile  forces  he'll  o'erspread  the  land, 
And  with  the  ostent  of  war3  will  look  so  huge, 

of  thoughts  V  I  think  without  necessity.     Pericles,  addressing 
the  Lords,  says, '  Let  none  disturb  us/  Then  apostrophising  hiu- 
selfA  says,  '  Why  should  this  change  in  our  thoughts  disturb  usV 
9  Him  was  supplied  by  Rowe  for  the  sake  of  the  metre. 
3  Old  copies : — 

'  And  with  the  stent  of  war  will  look  so  huge.' 
The  emendation,  suggested  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  is  confirmed  by  the 
following  passage  in  Decker's  Entertainment  to  King  James  I* 
1604  :— 

'  And  why  you  bear  alone  tK  ostent  of  warre.' 
Again  in  Chapman's  translation  of  Homer's  Batracbomuomft* 
chia:  — 

'  Both  heralds  bearing  the  orients  of  war.' 
See  vol.  iii.  p.  $1  and  4&. 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TtRE.  273 

Amazement  shall  drive  courage  from  the  state ; 
Our  men  be  vanquish'd,  ere  they  do  resist, 
And  subjects  punish'd,  that  ne'er  thought  offence:  - 
Which  care  of  them,  not  pity  of  myself, 
(Who  am4  no  more  but  as  the  tops  of  trees, 
Which  fence  the  roots  they  grow*  by,  and  defend 

Makes  both  my  body  pine,  and  soul  to  languish, 
And  punish  that  before,  that  he  would  punish. 

1  Lord.  Joy  and  all  comfort  in  your  sacred  breast ! 

2  Lord.  And  keep  your  mind,  till  you  return  to  us, 
Peaceful  and  comfortable ! 

Hel.  Peace,  peace,  my  lords,  and  give  experience 
They  do  abuse  the  king,  that  flatter  him : 
For  flattery  is  the  bellows  blows  up  sin; 
The  thing  the  which  is  flatter'd,  but  a  spark, 
To  which  that  breath5   gives  •'  heat  and  stronger 

glowing ; 
Whereas  reproof,  obedient,  and  in  order, 
Fits  kings,  as  they  are  men,  for  they  may  err. 
When  Signior  Sooth 6  here  does  proclaim  a  peace, 
He  flatters  you,  makes  war  upon  your  life : 
Prince,  pardon  me,  or  strike  me,  if  you. please; 
I,  cannot  be  much  lower  than  my  knees. 

Per.  All  leave  us  else ;  but  let  your  cares  o'erlook 
What  shipping,  and  what  lading's  in  our  haven, 
And  then  return  to  us.  [Exeunt  Lords.]  Helicanus, 

Hast  moved  us :  what  seest  thou  in  our  looks? 

4  The  old  copy  reads,  '  Who  once  no  more/  &c.  The  emen- 
dation is  by  Steeyens.  Malone  reads, '  Who  wants  no  more/  &c. 

*  i.  e.  the  breath  of  flattery.  The  word  spark  was  here  acci- 
dentally repeated  by  the  compositor  in  the  old  copy. 

6  A  near  kinsman  of  this  gentleman  is  mentioned  in  The  Win- 
ter's Tale : — *  And  his  pond  fished  by  his  next  neighbour,  by 
Sir  Smile.' 

874  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

HeL  An  angry  brow,  dread  lord. 

Per.  If  there  be  such  a  dart  in  princes'  frowns, 
How  durst  thy  tongue  move  anger  to  our  face  ? 

HeL  How  dare  the  plants  look  up  to  heaven, 
from  whence 
They  have  their  nourishment? 

Per.  Thou  know'st  I  have  power 

To  take  thy  life. 

HeL  [Kneeling.]  I  have  ground  the  axe  myself; 
Do  you  but  .strike  the  blow. 

Per,  Rise,  pr'ythee  rise ; 

Sit  down,  sit  down ;  thou  art  no  flatterer : 
I  thank  thee  for  it;  and  high  heaven  forbid, 
That  kings  should  let  their  ears  hear  their  faults 

Fit  counsellor,  and  servant  for  a  prince, 
Who  by  thy  wisdom  mak'st  a  prince  thy  servant, 
What  would'st  thou  have  me  do? 

HeL  With  patience  bear 

Such  griefs  as  you  do  lay  upon  yourself. 

Per.  Thou  speak'st  like  a  physician,  Helicanus; 
Who  minister'st  a  potion  unto  me, 
That  thou  would'st  tremble  to  receive  thyself. 
Attend  me  then :  I  went  to  Antioch, 
Where,  as  thou  know'st,  against  the  face  of  deatE, 
I  sought  the  purchase  of  a  glorious  beauty, 
From  whence  an  issue  I  might  propagate, 
Are  arms  to  princes,  and  bring  to  subjects  joys8. 
Her  face  was  to  mine  eye  beyond  all  wonder; 
The  rest  (hark  in  thine  ear),  as  black  as  incest; 
Which  by  my  knowledge  found,  the  sinful  father 

7  'Forbid  it,  heaven,  that  kings  should  suffer  their  ears  to 
hear  their  feelings  palliated !' 

8  *  From  whence  I  might  propagate  an  issue  that  are  arms/ 
&c.    Steevens  reads  :— 

'  Bring  arms  to  princes,  and  to  subjects  joys.' 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  275 

Seem'd  not  to  strike,  but  smooth9:  but  thou  know'st 

Tis  time  to  fear,  when  tyrants  seem  to  kiss. 
Which  fear  so  grew  in  me,  I  hither  fled, 
Under  the  covering  of  a  careful  night, 
Who  seem'd  my  good  protector;  and  being  here, 
Bethought  me  what  was  past,  what  might  succeed. 
I  knew  him  tyrannous ;  and  tyrants'  fears 
Decrease  not,  but  grow  faster  than  their  years : 
And  should  he  doubt  it 10  (as  no  doubt  he  doth), 
That  I  should  open  to  the  listening  air, 
How  many  worthy  princes'  bloods  were  shed. 
To  keep  his  bed  of  blackness  unlaid  ope, — 
To  lop  that  doubt,  he'll  fill  this  land  with  arms, 
And  make  pretence  of  wrong  that  I  have  done  him ; 
When  all,  for  mine,  if  I  may  call't  offence, 
Must  feel  war's  blow,  who  spares  not  innocence : 
Which  love  to  all  (of  which  thyself  art  one, 
Who  now  reprov'st  me  for  it)-- — 

Hel.  Alas,  sir ! 

Per.  Drew  sleep  out  of  mine  eyes,  blood  from 
my  cheeks, 
Musings  into  my  mind,  a  thousand  doubts 

9  To  smooth  is  to  sooth,  coax,  or  flatter.  Thus  in  King  Ri- 
chard III. : — 

*  Smile  in  men's  faces,  smooth,  deceive,  and  cog.' 

So  in  Titus  Andronicns : — 

*  Yield  to  bis  humour,  smooth,  and  speak  him  fair/ 
The  verb  to  smooth  is  frequently  used  in  this  sense  by  our  elder 
writers ;  for  instance  by  Stubbes  in  his  Anatomie  of  Abuses, 
1583 : — *  If  you  will  learn  to  deride,  scoffe,  mock,  and  flowt,  to 
flatter  and  smooth,'  &c. 

10  The  quarto  of  1609  reads,  '  And  should  he  doot,'  &c. ; 
from  which  the  reading  of  the  text  has  been  formed.  '  Should 
he  be  in  doubt  that  I  shall  keep  his  secret  (as  there  is  no  doubt 
but  he  is),  why,  to  *  lop  that  doubt/  i.  e.  to  get  rid  of  that  pain- 
ful uncertainty,  be  will  strive  to  make  me  appear  the  aggressor, 
by  attacking  me  first  as  the  author  of  some  supposed  injury  to 

376  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

How  I  might  stop  this  tempest,  ere  it  came ; 
And  finding  little  comfort  to  relieve  them, 
I  thought  it  princely  charity  to  grieve  them11. 

Hel.  Well,  my  lord,  since  you  have  given  me 
leave  to  speak, 
Freely  I'll  speak.  ;  Antiochus  you  fear, 
And  justly  too,  1  think,  you  fear  the  tyrant, 
Who,  either  by  public  war,  or  private  treason, 
Will  take  away  your  life. 
Therefore,  my  lord,  go  travel  for  a  while, 
Till  that  his  rage  and  anger  be  forgot, 
Or  Destinies  do  cut  his  thread  of  life. 
Your  rule  direct  to  any ;  if  to  me, 
Day  serves  not  light  more  faithful  than  I'll  be. 

Per.  I  do  not  doubt  thy  faith ; 
But  should  he  wrong  my  liberties  in  absence— 

Hel.  Well  mingle  bloods  together  in  the  earth, 
From  whence  we  had  our  being  and  our  birth. 

Per.  Tyre,  I  now  look,  from  thee  then,  and  to 
Intend  my  travel,  where  I'll  hear  from  thee ; 
And  by  whose  letters  I'll  dispose  myself. 
The  care  I  had  and  have  of  subjects'  good, 
On  thee  I  lay,  whose  wisdom's  strength  can  bear  it13. 
I'll  take  thy  word  for  faith,  not  ask  thine  oath; 
Who  shuns  not  to  break  one,  will  sure  crack  both : 
But  in  our  orbs 13  we'll  live  so  round  and  safe, 
That  time  of  both  this  truth  shall  ne'er  convince14, 
Thou  show'dst  a  subject's  shine,  I  a  true  prince15. 


11  That  is,  to  lament  their  fate.    The  first  quarto  reads,  'to 
grieve  for  them.' 

12  This  transfer  of  authority  naturally  brings  the  first  scene  of 
Measure  for  Measure  to  our  mind. 

13  i.  e.  in  our  different  spheres. 

' in  seipso  totius  teres  atque  rotundas.' 

14  Overcome. 

14  This  sentiment  \&  not  much  unlike  that  of  FalstatT:— '  I 


Tyre.     An  Ante- Chamber  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Thaliard. 

Thai.  So,  this  is  Tyre,  and  this  is  the  court. 
Here  must  I  kill  king  Pericles;  and  if  I  do  not,  I 
im  sure  to  be  hang'd  at  home :  'tis  dangerous. — 
Well,  I  perceive  he  was  a  wise  fellow,  and  had 
rood  discretion,  that  being  bid  to  ask  what  he 
flrould  of  the  king,  desired  he  might  know  none  of 
lis  secrets1.  Now  do  I  see  he  had  some  reason 
for  it:  for  if  a  king  bid  a  man  be  a  villain,  he  is 
sound  by  the  indenture  of  his  oath  to  be  one. — 
Hush,  here  come  the  lords  of  Tyre. 

Enter  Helicanus,  Escanes,  and  other  Lords.  » 

Hel.  You  shall  not  need,  my  fellow  peers  of  Tyre, 
Further  to  question  of  your  king's  departure. 
His  seal'd  commission,  left  in  trust  with  me, 
Doth  speak  sufficiently,  he's  gone  to  travel. 

Thai.  How !  the  king  gone !  [Aside. 

Hel.  If  further  yet  you  will  be  satisfied, 
Why,  as  it  were  unlicens'd  of  your  loves, 
He  would  depart,  I'll  give  some  light  unto  you. 
Being  at  Antioch 

Thai.  What  from  Antioch?  [Aside. 

shall  think  the  better  of  myself  and  thee  daring  my  life ;  I  for  a 
valiant  lion,  and  thou  for  a  true  prince.'  The  same  idea  is  more 
clearly  expressed  in  King  Henry  VIII.  Act  iii.  Sc.  2 : — 

'A  loyal  subject  is 

Therein  illustrated.' 
1  Who  this  wise  fellow  was  may  he  known  from  the  following 
passage  in  Barnabie  Riches  Souldier's  Wishe  to  Briton's  Wel- 
fare, or  Captaine  Skill  and  Captaine  Pill,  1Q04,  p.  27  :— '  I  will 
therefore  commende  the  poet  Philipides,  who  being  demaanded 
by  King  Lisimacbus,  what  favour  he  might  doe  unto  him  for 
that  be  loved  him,  made  this  answere  to  the  king — That  your 
majesty  would  never  impart  unto  me  any  of  your  secrets.' 

VOL.  IX.  B  B 

278  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

Hel.  Royal  Antiochus  (on  what  cause  I  know  not), 
Took  some  displeasure  at  him ;  at  least  he  judg'dso: 
And  doubting  lest  that  he  had  err'd  or  sinn'd, 
To  show  his  sorrow,  would  correct  himself; 
So  puts  himself2  unto  the  shipman's  toil, 
With  whom  each  minute  threatens  life  or  death. 

Thai.  Well,  I  perceive  [Aside. 

I  shall  not  be  hang'd  now,  although  I  would ; 
But  since  he's  gone,  the  king  it  sure  must  please, 
He  scap'd  the  land,  to  perish  on  the  seas3. — 
But  I'll  present  me.     Peace  to  the  lords  of  Tyre ! 

Hel.  Lord  Thaliard  from  Antiochus  is  welcome. 

Thai.  From  him  I  come 
With  message  unto  princely  Pericles ; 
But,  since  my  landing,  as  I  have  understood 
Your  lord  has  took  himself  to  unknown  travels, 
My  message  must  return  from  whence  it  came. 

Hel.  We  have  no  reason  to  desire  it,  since4 
Commended  to  our  master,  not  to  us : 
Yet,  ere  you  shall  depart,  this  we  desire, — 
As  friends  to  Antioch,  we  may  feast  in  Tyre. 



Tharsus.     A  Room  in  the  Governor's  House. 

Enter  Cleon,  Dionyza,  and  Attendants. 

Cho.  My  Dionyza,  shall  we  rest  us  here, 
And  by  relating  tales  of  others'  griefs, 
See  if  'twill  teach  us  to  forget  our  own  ? 

3  Steevens  bas  thought  this  phrase  wanted  illustration ;  but 
it  is  of  very  common  occurrence.  '  To  put  himselfe  in  daunger 
of  his  life ;  In  periculum  caput  se  inferred — Baret. 

3  The  old  copy  reads : — 

'  But  since  he's  gone  the  'king's  seas  must  please : 
He  scap'd  the  land,  to  perish  at  the  sea.* 
The  emendation  is  by  Dr.  Percy. 

4  The  Adverb  since,  which  is  wanting  in  the  old  copy,  was 
supplied  by  Steevens  tot  iVit  mAka  *A  %*&£&  wA  \a»fcc«« 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  279 

Dio.  That  were  to  blow  at  fire,  in  hope  to  quench  it ; 
For  who  digs  hills  because  they  do  aspire, 
Throws  down  one  mountain,  to  cast  up  a  higher. 
O  my  distressed  lord,  even  such  our  griefs ; 
Here  they're  but  felt,  and  seen  with  mistful  eyes l, 
But  like  to  groves,  being  topp'd,  they  higher  rise. 

Cle.  O  Dionyza, 
Who  wanteth  food,  and  will  not  say  he  wants  it, 
Or  can  conceal  his  hunger,  till  he  famish  ? 
Our  tongues  and  sorrows  do  sound  deep  our  woes 
Into  the  air ;  our  eyes  do  weep,  till  lungs 
Fetch  breath  that  may  proclaim  them  louder;  that, 
If  the  Gjods  slumber2,  while  their  creatures  want, 
They  may  awake  their  helps  to  comfort  them. 
I'll  then  discourse  our  woes,  felt  several  years, 
And  wanting  breath  to  speak,  help  me  with  tears. 

Dio.  I'll  do  my  best,  sir. 

Cle.  This  Tharsus,  o'er  which  I  have  government, 
A  city,  on  whom  plenty  held  full  hand 
(For  riches  strew'd  herself  even  in  the  streets) ; 
Whose  towers  bore  heads  so  high,  they  kiss'd  the 

And  strangers  ne'er  beheld,  but  wonder'd  at; 
Whose  men  and  dames  so  jetted3  and  adom'd, 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

' and  seen  with  mischiefs  eye.' 

The  alteration  was  made  by  Steevens,  who  thus  explains  the 
passage : — '  Withdrawn  as  we  now  are  from  the  scene  we  de- 
scribe, onr  sorrows  are  simply  felt,  and  appear  indistinct,  as 
through  a  mist,'     Malone  reads : — 

' unseen  with  mischief's  eyes/ 

i.  e. '  unseen  by  those  who  would  feel  a  malignant  pleasure  in 
our  misfortunes,  and  add  to  them  by  their  triumph  over  us.' 

2  The  old  copy  reads,  '  If  heaven  slumber,'  &c.  This  was 
probably  an  alteration  of  the  licencer  of  the  press.  Sense  and 
grammar  require  that  we  should  read, '  If  the  gods,'  &c. 

3  To  jet  is  to  strut,  to  walk  proudly.  See  vol.  i.  p.  338, 
note  3. 

2&0  PERICLES,  ACT  I. 

Like  one  another's  glass  to  trim  them  by4: 
Their  tables  were  stor'd  full,  to  glad  the  sight, 
And  not  so  much  to  feed  on,  as  delight ; 
All  poverty  was  scorn'd,  and  pride  so  great, 
The  name  of  help  grew  odious  to  repeat. 

Dio.  O,  'tis  too  true. 

Cle.  But  see  what  heaven  can  do !   By  this  our 
These  mouths,  whom  but  of  late,  earth,  feea,  and  air, 
Were  all  too  little  to  content  and  please, 
Although  they  gave  their  creatures  in  abundance, 
As  houses  are  defil'd  for  want  of  use, 
They  are  now  starv'd  for  want  of  exercise : 
Those  palates,  who  not  yet  two  summers  younger5, 
Must  have  inventions  to  delight  the  taste, 
Would  now  be  glad  of  bread  and  beg  for  it ; 
Those  mothers  who,  to.  nousle6  up  their  babes, 

4  Thus  in  the  Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV. : — 

' He  was  indeed  the  glass, 

Wherein  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves.' 

Again  in  Cymbeline : — 

'  A  sample  to  the  youngest,  to  the  more  mature 
A  glass  that  feated  them.' 

8  The  old  copy  has : — 

' who  not  yet  too  savers  younger/ 

The  emendation  was  proposed  by  Mason.  Steevens  remarks 
that  Shakspeare  computes  time  by  the  same  number  of  summers 
in  Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

'  Let  two  more  summers  wither  in  their  pride/  &e. 
Malone  reads : — 

1 who  not  used  to  hunger's  savour/ 

6  Steevens  thought  that  Ibis  word  should  be  nursle ;  bat  the 
examples  are  numerous  enough  in  our  old  writers  to  show  that 
the  text  is  right.  Thus  in  New  Custom ;  Dodsley's  Old  Plays, 
vol.  i.  p.  284 : — 

'  Borne  to  all  wickedness,  and  nusled  in  all  evil/ 
So  Spenser,  Faerie  Queene,  i.  vi.  23  : — 

'  Whom,  till  to  ryper  years  he  gan  aspyre, 
He  nousled  up  in  life  and  maners  wilde/ 
'  It  were  a  more  vauntage  and  profit  by  a  great  dele  that  yonge 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  281 

Thought  nought  too  curious,  are  ready  now, 
To  eat  those  little  darlings  whom  they  lov'd. 
So  sharp  are  hunger's  teeth,  that  man  and  wife 
Draw  lots,  who  first  shall  die  to  lengthen  life: 
Here  stands  a  lord,  and  there  a  lady  weeping ; 
Here  many  sink,  yet  those  which  see  them  fall, 
Have  scarce  strength  left  to  give  them  burial. 
Is  not  this  true? 

Dio.  Our  cheeks  and  hollow  eyes  do  witness  it. 

Cle.  O,  let  those  cities,  that  of  Plenty's  cup 
And  her  prosperities  so  largely  taste, 
With  their  superfluous  riots,  hear  these  tears ! 
The  misery  of  Tharsus  may  be  theirs. 

Enter  a  Lord. 

Lord.  Where's  the  lord  governor  ? 

Cle.  Here. 
Speak  out  thy  sorrows  which  thou  bring' st,  in  haste, 
For  comfort  is  too  far  for  us  to  expect. 

Lord.  We  have  descried,  upon  our  neighbouring 
A  portly  sail  of  ships  make  hitherward. 

Cle.  I  thought  as  much. 
One  sorrow  never  comes,  but  brings  an  heir, 
That  may  succeed  as  his  inheritor ; 
And  so  in  ours  :  some  neighbouring  nation, 
Taking  advantage  of  our  misery, 
Hath  stufPd  these  hollow  vessels  with  their  power  T, 
To  beat  us  down,  the  which  are  down  already ; 

children's  wyttes  were  otherwyse  sette  a  warke,  than  nossel 
them  in  suche  erronr.' — Horman's  Vtdgaria,  1519,  fo.  86. 

'  Nousleed  in  virtuous  disposition,  and  framed  to  an  honest 
trade  of  living.' — UdaVs  Apopthegmes,  fo.  75. 

So  in  The  Death  of  King  Arthur,  1601,  cited  bjMalone:— 
'  Being  nuzzled  in  effeminate  delights.* 

7  Hollow,  applied  to  ships,  is  a  Homeric  epithet.     See  Iliad, 
v.  26.     By  power  is  meant  forces, 


282  PERICLES,  ACi  i. 

And  make  a  conquest  of  unhappy  me8, 
Whereas9  no  glory's  got  to  overcome. 

Lord.  That's  the  least  fear :  for,  by  the  semblance 
Of  their  white  flags  display'd,  they  bring  us  peace, 
And  come  to  us  as  favourers,  not  as  foes. 

Cle.  Thou  speak'st  like  him10  untutor'd  to  repeat, 
Who  makes  the  fairest  show  means  most  deceit. 
But  bring  they  what  they  will,  what  need  we  fear? 
The  ground's  the  low'st,  and  we  are  half  way  there11. 
Go  tell  their  general,  we  attend  him  here, 
To  know  for  what  he  comes,  and  whence  he  comes, 
And  what  he  craves. 

Lord.  I  go,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Cle.  Welcome  is  peace,  if  he  on  peace  consist18; 
If  wars,  we  are  unable  to  resist. 

Enter  Pericles,  with  Attendants. 

Per.  Lord  governor,  for  so  we  hear  you  are, 
Let  not  our  ships,  and  number  of  our  men, 
Be,  like  a  beacon  fir'd,  to  amaze  your  eyes. 
We  have  heard  your  miseries  as  far  as  Tyre, 
And  see  the  desolation  of  your  streets ! 
Nor  come  we  to  add  sorrow  to  your  tears, 
But  to  relieve  them  of  their  heavy  load ; 

8  A  letter  has  been  probably  dropped  at  press':  we  maj  read, 
'  of  unhappy  men.' 

9  It  has  been  already  observed  that  whereas  was  sometimes 
used  for  where ;  as  well  as  the  converse,  where  for  whereas. 

10  The  quarto  of  1609  reads:— 

'  Thou  speak 'st  like  himnes  untutor'd  to  repeat* 
'  Like  him  untutor'd,'  for  '  like  him  who  is  untutored.'    '  De- 
laded  by  the  pacific  appearance  of  this  navy,  you  talk  like  one 
who  has  never  learned  the  common  adage,— <Aaf  the  fairest  out- 
sides  are  most  to  be  suspected.' 

11  The  qnarto  of  1619  reads:— 

'  But  bring  they  what  they  will,  and  what  they  can, 
What  need  we  fear  ? 

The  ground's  the  low'st,'  and  we  are  halfway  there.' 
13  i.  e.  if  be  rest  or  stand  on  peace.  See  vol.  v.  p.  336,  note  23. 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  283 

And  these  our  ships  you  happily  may  think 
Are,  like  the  Trojan  horse,  war-stufFd  within, 
"With  bloody  views,  expecting  overthrow 13, 
Are  stor'd  with  corn,  to  make  your  needy  bread, 
And  give  them  life,  who  are  hunger-starv'd,  half  dead. 

AIL  The  gods  of  Greece  protect  you ! 
And  we'll  pray  for  you. 

Per.  Rise,  I  pray  you,  rise ; 

We  do  not  look  for  reverence,  but  for  love. 
And  harbourage  for  ourself,  our  ships,  and  men. 

Cle.  The  which  when  any  shall  not  gratify, 
Or  pay  you  with  un thankfulness  in  thought, 
Be  it  our  wives,  our  children,  or  ourselves, 
The  curse  of  heaven  and  men  succeed  their  evils ! 
Till  when  (the  which,  I  hope,  shall  ne'er  be  seen), 
Your  grace  is  welcome  to  our  town  and  us. 

Per.  Which  welcome  we'll  accept;  feast  here  a 
Until  our  stars  that  frown,  lend  us  a  smile.  [Exeunt, 


Enter  Gower. 

Gow.  Here  have  you  seen  a  mighty  king 
His  child,  I  wis,  to  incest  bring; 
A  better  prince,  and  benign  lord, 
Prove  awful  both  in  deed  and  word 1. 

13  The  old  copy  reads : — 

'  And  these  our  ships  you  happily  may  think 
Are  like  the  Trojan  horse,  was  stuff'd  within 
With  bloody  vetoes y  &c. 
The  emendation  is  Steevens's.     Mr.  Bo 8 well  says  that  the  old 
reading  may  mean,  elliptically, '  which  was  stuffed.' 

1  i.  e.  '  you  have  seen  a  better  prince,  &c.  that  will  prore 
awful,'  i.  e.  reverent.  The  verb  in  the  first  line  is  carried  on  to 
the  third. 



Be  quiet  then,  as  men  should  be, 

Till  he  hath  pass'd  necessity. 

I'll  show  you  those  in  trouble's  reign, 

Losing  a  mite,  a  mountain  gain. . 

The  good  in  conversation 

(To  whom  I  give  my  benizon), 

Is  still  at  Tharsus,  where  each  man  2 

Thinks  all  is  writ  he  spoken  can3 : 

And,  to  remember  what  he  does, 

Gild  his  statue  to  make  it  glorious  4 : 

But  tidings  to  the  contrary 

Are  brought  your  eyes ;  what  need  speak  I  ? 

9  '  The  good  in  conversation 

(To  whom  I  give  my  benizon), 

Is  still  at  Tharsus,  where* r 

Gower  means  to  say,  '  The  good  prince  (on  whom  I  bestow  my 

best  wishes)  is  still  engaged  at  Tharsus,  where  every  man/  &c. 

Conversation  is  conduct,  behaviour.     See  the  Second  Epistle  of 

St.  Peter,  iii.  11. 

3  '  Pays  as  much  respect  to  whatever  Pericles  says,  as  if  it 
were  Holy  Writ.' 

4  This  circumstance,  as  well  as  the  foregoing,  is  found  in  the 
Confessio  Amantis : — 

'  That  thei  for  ever  in  remembrance 

Made  a  figure  in  resemblance 

Of  hym,  and  in  a  common  place 

Thei  set  it  up ;  so  that  his  face 

Might  every  maner  man  beholde, 

It  was  of  laton  over  gylte,'  &c. 
In  King  Appolyn  of  Thyre,  1510  : — '  In  remembrance  they  made 
an  ymage  or  statue  of  dene  golde.'     In  the  fragment  of  the  Old 
Metrical  Romance  the  statue  is  of  brass; — 
'  Tho  made  they  an  ymage  of  bras, 
A  schef  of  whete  he  held  an  honde, 
That  to  my  lieknes  maad  was, 
Uppon  a  buschel  they  dyde  hym  stonde, 
And  wryte  aboate  the  storye. 
To  Appolyn  this  hys  ydo 
To  have  hvm  ever  in  memory e.' 


Dumb  Show. 
Enter  at  one  door  Pericles,  talking  with  Cleon  ; 
all  the  Train  with  them.     Enter  at  another  door, 
a  Gentleman  with  a  Letter  to  Pericles  ;  Pbri- 
cles  shows  the  Letter  to  Cleon  ;  then  gives  the 
a  reward,  and  knight*  him.     Exeunt 
■,  Cleon,  fyc.  severally. 
Gow.  Good  Helicane,  that  staid  at  home1 
(Not  to  eat  honey,  like  a  drone, 
From  others'  labours;  for  though  he  strive 
To  killen  bad,  keep  good  alive  ; 
And,  to  fulfil  his  prince'  desire}, 
Sends  word  of  all  that  haps  in  Tyre fi ; 
How  Thaliard  came  full  bent  with  sin, 
And  hid  intent,  to  murder  him; 
And  that  in  Tharsus  was  not  best 
Longer  for  him  to  make  his  rest: 
He  knowing  so,  put  forth  to  seas, 
Where  when  men  been,  there's  seldom  ease; 
For  now  the  wind  begins  to  blow ; 
Thunder  above,  and  deeps  below, 
Make  such  unquiet,  that  the  ship 
Should  house  him  safe,  is  wreck'd  and  split; 
And  he,  good  prince,  having  all  lost, 
By  waves  from  coast  to  coast  is  tost: 
All  perishen  of  man,  of  pelf, 
Ne  aught  escapen  but  himself; 
Till  fortune,  tu?d  with  doing  bad, 
Threw  him  ashore,  to  give  him  glad  : 
And  here  he  comes:  what  shall  be  next, — 
Pardon  old  Gower;  this  longs  the  text7.  [Exit. 

*  Thos  the  old  copj.     Steevens  reeds  :— 

•  Good  Helicane  talk  staid  et  borne.' 
'  Old  copy: — '  Sav'd  out  of  nil,'  &o.      Tbe  emendation  il 
'  ■  Pardoo  old  Gower  from  telling  what  emues,  A\ieW^  v» 

286  PERICLES,  ACT  II.     | c 



Pentapolis.     An  open  Place  by  the  Sea  Side. 

Enter  Pericles,  wet. 

Per.  Yet  cease  your  ire,  ye  angry  stars  of  heaven! 
Wind,  rain,  and  thunder,  remember,  earthly  man 
Is  but  a  substance  that  must  yield  to  you ; 
And  I,  as  fits  my  nature,  do  obey  you; 
Alas,  the  sea  hath  cast  me  on  the  rocks, 
Wash'd  me  from  shore  to  shore,  and  left  me  breath 
Nothing  to  think  on,  but  ensuing  death : 
Let  it  suffice  the  greatness  of  your  powers, 
To  have  bereft  a  prince  of  all  his  fortunes ;    / 
And  having  thrown  him  from  your  watery  grave, 
Here  to  have  death  in  peace,  is  all  he'll  crave. 

Enter  TKree  Fishermen. 

1  Fish.  What,  ho,  Pilche1 ! 

2  Fish.  Ho !  come,  and  bring  away  the  nets. 
1  Fish.  What,  Patch-breech,  I  say ! 

3  Fish.  What  say  you,  master? 
1  Fish.  Look  how  thou  stirrest  now !  come  away, 

or  I'll  fetch  thee  with  a  wannion  2. 

3  Fish.  'Faith,  master,  I  am  thinking  of  the  poor 
men  that  were  cast  away  before  us,  even  now. 

the  text,  not  to  his  province  as  chorus.'  Steevens  justly  remarks, 
that  '  the  language  of  oar  fictitious  Gower,  like  that  of  the 
Pseudo-Rowley,  is  so  often  irreconcilable  to  the  practice  of  any 
age,  that  criticism  on  such  bungling  imitations  is  almost  thrown 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

'  What  to  pelche.' 
The  emendation  was  suggested  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  who  remarks, 
that  Pilche  is  a  leathern  coat. 

3  This  expression,  which  is  equivalent  to  with  a  mischief,  or 
with  a  vengeance,  is  of  very  frequent  occurrence  in  old  writers. 
It  is  perhaps  from  t\\e  A..  S.  v&uanx,,  detriment,  mischief. 

SC.  I,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  287 

1  Fish.  Alas,  poor  souls,  it  griev'd  my  heart  to 
hear  what  pitiful  cries  they  made  to  us,  to  help 
them,  when,  well-a-day,  we  could  scarce  help  our- 

3  Fish.  Nay,  master,  said  not  I  as  much,  when 
I  saw  the  porpus,  how  he  bounced  and  tumbled  3  ? 
they  say,  they  are  half  fish,  half  flesh:  a  plague  on 
them,  they  ne'er  come,  but  I  look  to  be  wash'd. 
Master,  I  marvel  how  the  fishes  live  in  the  sea. 

1  Fish.  Why  as  men  do  a-land ;  the  great  ones 
eat  up  the  little  ones:  I  can  compare  our  rich  mi- 
sers to  nothing  so  fitly  as  to  a  whale ;  'a  plays  and 
tumbles,  driving  the  poor  fry  before  him4,  and  at 
last  devours  them  all  at  a  mouthful.  Such  whales 
have  I  heard  on  a' the  land,  who  never  leave  gaping, 
till  they've  swallow'd  the  whole  parish,  church, 
steeple,  bells  and  all. 

Per.  A  pretty  moral.      ~ 
3  Fish.  But,  master,  if  I  had  been  the  sexton,  I 
would  have  been  that  day  in  the  belfry. 

2  Fish.  Why,  man? 

3  Fish.  Because  he  should  have  swallow'd  me 
too:  and  when  I  had  been  in  his  belly,  I  would 
have  kept  such  a  jangling  of  the  bells,  that  he 
should  never  have  left,  till  he  cast  bells,  steeple, 
church,  and  parish,  up  again.  But  if  the  good 
king  Simonides  were  of  my  mind 

Per.  Simonides? 

S.Fish.  We  would  purge  the  land  of  these  drones, 
that  rob  the  bee  of  her  honey. 

Per.  How  from  the  finny  subject  of  the  sea 
These  fishers  tell  the  infirmities  of  men ; 

3  Sailors  have  observed,  that  the  playing  of  porpoises  round 
a  ship  is  a  certain  prognostic  of  a  violent  gale  of  wind. 
*  So  in  Coriolanus : — 

■*  — like  scaled  sculls 

Before  the  belching  whale.' 


And  from  their  watery  empire  recollect 
All  that  may  men  approve,  or  men  detect! 
Peace  be  at  your  labour,  honest  fishermen. 

2  Fish.  Honest!  good  fellow,  what's  that?*  if  it 
be  a  day  fits  you,  scratch  it  out  of  the  calendar, 
and  no  body  will  look  after  it5. 

Per.  Nay ,  see,  the  sea  hath  cast  upon  your  coast— 

2  Fish.  What  a  drunken  knave  was  the  sea;  to 
cast  thee  in  our  way ! 

Per.  A  man  whom  both  the  waters  and  the  wind, 
In  that  vast  tennis-court,  hath  made  the  ball 
For  them  to  play  upon6,  entreats  you  pity  him; 
He  asks  of  you,  that  never  us'd  to  beg. 

1  Fish.  No,  friend,  cannot  you  beg  ?  here's  them 
in  our  country  of  Greece,  gets  more  with  begging, 
than  we  can  do  with  working. 

2  Fish.  Canst  thou  catch  any  fishes  then? 
Per.  1  never  practis'd  it. 

2  Fish.  Nay,  then  thou  wilt  starve  sure :  for 
here's  nothing  to  be  got  now-a-days,  unless  thou 
canst  fish  for't. 

5  The  old  copy  reads,  '  If  it  be  a  day  fits  yon  search  out  of 
the  calendar,  and  nobody  look  after  it.1  The  preceding  speech  of 
Pericles  affords  no  apt  introduction  to  the  reply  of  the  fisherman. 
Some  remark  npon  the  day  appears  to  have  been  omitted.  Stee- 
vens  supplied  it  thus : —  fi 

'  Per.  Peace  be  at  your  labour,  honest  fishermen ; 
The  day  is  rough,  and  thwarts  your  occupation.* 
The  following  speech  of  Pericles  is  equally  abrupt  and  incon- 
sistent : — 

'  Y'  may  see  the  sea  hath  cast  me  upon  your  coast' 

The  emendation  is  by  Steevens. 

Dr.  Farmer  thinks  that  there  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  dka 
honestissimus  of  Cicero.  The  lucky  and  unlucky  days  are  pat 
down  in  the  old  calendars. 

6  Thus  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  book  v. : — '  In  such  a  shadow, 
&c.  mankind  lives,  that  neither  they  know  how  to  foresee,  nor 
what  to  feare,  and  are,  like  tenis  bals,  tossed  by  the  racket  of  tkt 
higher  powers.' 

SC.  1.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  289 

Per.  What  I  have  been,  I  haye  forgot  to  know; 
But  what  I  am,  want  teaches  me  to  think  on ; 
\.  man  shrunk  up  with  cold :  my  veins  are  chill, 
And  have  no  more  of  life,  than  may  suffice 
To  give  my  tongue  that  heat,  to  ask  your  help ; 
^hich  if  you  shall  refuse,  when  I  am  dead, 
For  that  I  am  a  man,  pray  see  me  buried. 

1  Fish.  Die  quoth-a  ?  Now  gods  forbid !  I  have 
i  gown  here ;  come,  put  it  on ;  keep  thee  warm. 
Now,  afore  me,  a  handsome  fellow!  Come,  thou 
jhalt  go  home,  and  we'll  have  flesh  for  holidays,  fish 
"or  fasting-days,  and  moreo'er  puddings  and  flap- 
jacks 7,  and  thou  shalt  be  welcome. 

Per.  I  thank  you,  sir. 

2  Fuh.  Hark  you,  my  friend,  you  said  you  could 
lot  beg. 

Per.  I  did  but  crave. 

2  Fish.  But  crave?  Then  I'll  turn  craver  too, 
ind  so  I  shall  'scape  whipping. 

Per.  Why,  are  all  your  beggars  whipped  then  ? 

2  Fish.  O,  not  all,  my  friend,  not  all ;  for  if  all 
four  beggars  were  whipp'd,  I  would  wish  no  better 
>ffice,  than  to  be  beadle.  But,  master,  I'll  go  draw 
lp  the  net.  [Exeunt  two  of  the  Fishermen. 

Per.  How  well  this  honest  mirth  becomes  their 
labour ! 

1  Fish.  Hark  you,  sir !  do  you  know  where  you  are  ? 

Per.  Not  well. 

1  Fish.  Why,  I'll  tell  you :  this  is  called  Penta- 
lolis,  and  our  king,  the  good  Simonides. 

Per.  The  good  king  Simonides,  do  you  call  him  ? 

7  Flap-jacks  are  pancakes.     Thus  in  Taylor's  Jack  a  Lent : — 

Until  at  last,  by  the  skill  of  the  cooke,  it  is  transformed  into 

he  form  of  a  flap-jack,  which,  in  our  translation,  is  cald  a  pan- 


VOL.  IX,  C.C 


1  Fish.  Ay,  sir;  and  he  deserves  to  be  so  call'd, 
for  his  peaceable  reign,  and  good  government 

Per.  He  is  a  happy  king,  since  he  gains  from 
his  subjects  the  name  of  good,  by  his  government 
How  far  is  his  court  distant  from  this  shore  ? 

1  Fish.  Marry,  sir,  half  a  day's  journey ;  and 
111  tell  you,  he  hath  a  fair  daughter,  and  to-mor- 
row is  her  birth-day;  and  there  are  princes  and 
knights  come  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  to  just 
and  tourney  for  her  love. 

Per.  Were  my  fortunes  equal  to  my  desires,  I 
could  wish  to  make  one  there. 

1  Fish,  O,  sir,  things  must  be  as  they  may;  and 
what  a  man  cannot  get,  he  may  lawfully  deal  for— 
his  wife's  soul8. 


Re-enter  the  Two  Fishermen,  drawing  up  a  net 

2  Fish.  Help,  master,  help ;  here's  a  fish  hangs 
in  the  net,  like  a  poor  man's  right  in  the  law;  'twill 
hardly  come  out.  Ha!  bots  on't9,  'tis  come  at 
last,  and  'tis  turn'd  to  a  rusty  armour. 

Per.  An  armour,  friends  !   I  pray  you,  let  me 
see  it. 
Thanks,  fortune,  yet,  that  after  all  my  crosses, 
Thou  giv'st  me  somewhat  to  repair  myself; 
And,  though  it  was  mine  own 10,  part  of  mine  he- 
Which  my  dead  father  did  bequeath  to  me, 

8  '  Things  must  be  (says  the  speaker),  as  they  are  appointed 
to  be ;  and  what  a  man  is  not  sure  to  compass,  he  has  yet  a  just 
right  to  attempt.'  The  Fisherman  may  then  be  supposed  to  be- 
gin a  new  sentence — '  His  wife's  soul ;'  but  here  he  is  inter- 
rupted by  his  comrades ;  and  it  would  be  vain  to  conjecture  tbe 
conclusion  of  his  speech. 

9  This  comic  execration  was  formerly  used  in  the  room  of  on4 
less  decent.   The  bots  is  a  disease  in  horses  produced  by  worms; 

10  i.  e.  and  I  thank  you,  though  it  was  mine  own. 

SC.  r.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  201 

With  this  strict  charge  (even  as  he  left  his  life), 
Keep  it,  my  Pericles,  it  hath  been  a  shield 
yTwixt  me  and  death  (and  pointed  to  this  brace11) : 
For  that  it  sav'd  me,  keep  it:  in  like  necessity, 
The  which  the  gods  protect  thee  from  !  it  may  defend 

It  kept  where  I  kept,  I  so  dearly  lov'd  it; 
Till  the  rough  seas,  that  spare  not  any  man, 
Took  it  in  rage,  though  calm'd,  have  given  it  again. 
I  thank  thee  for't ;  my  shipwreck's  now  no  ill, 
Since  I  have  here  my  father's  gift  in  his  will. 

I  Fish.  What  mean  you,  sir? 

Per.  To  beg  of  you,  kind  friends,  this  coat  of 
For  it  was  sometime  target  to  a  king; 
I  know  it  by  this  mark.     He  lov'd  me  dearly, 
And  for  his  sake,  I  wish  the  having  of  it ; 
And  that  you'd  guide  me  to  your  sovereign's  court, 
Where  with't  I  may  appear  a  gentleman; 
And  if  that  ever  my  low  fortunes  better, 
I'll  pay  your  bounties ;  till  then,  rest  your  debtor. 

1  Fish.  T^Tiy,  wilt  thou  tourney  for  the  lady? 

Per.  I'll  show  the  virtue  I  have  borne  in  arms. 

1  Fish.  Why,  do  ye  take  it,  and  the  gods  give 
thee  good  on't! 

2  Fish.  Ay,  but  hark  you,  my  friend ;  -'twas  we 
that  made  up  this  garment  through  the  rough  seams 
of  the  waters :  there  are  certain  condolements,  cer- 
tain vails.  I  hope,  sir,  if  you  thrive,  you'll  remem- 
ber from  whence  you  had  it. 

Per.  Believe't,  I  will. 
Now,  by  your  furtherance,  I  am  cloth'd  in  steel ; 

II  The  brace  is  the  armour  for  the  arm.     So  in  Troilua  and 
Cressida : — 

'  I'll  hide  my  silver  beard  in  a  gold  beaver, 
And  in  mj  vant  brace  pat  this  witber'd  brawn.' 



And  spite  of  all  the  rupture 12  of  the  sea, 
This  jewel  holds  his  biding13  on  my  arm; 
Unto  thy  value  will  I  mount  myself 
Upon  a  courser,  whose  delightful  steps 
Shall  make  the  gazer  joy  to  see  him  tread. — 
Only,  my  friend,  I  yet  am  unprovided 
Of  a  pair  of  bases  u. 

2  Fish.  We'll  sure  provide :  thou  shalt  have  my 
best  gown  to  make  thee  a  pair;  and  I'll  bring  thee 
to  the  court  myself. 

Per.  Then  honour  be  but  a  goal  to  my  will; 
This  day  I'll  rise,  or  else  add  ill  to  ill.        [Exeunt, 


The  same.  A  publick  Way,  or  Platform,  leading 
to  the  Lists.  A  Pavilion  by  the  side  of  it,  for  the 
reception  of  the  King,  Princess,  Lords,  Sfc. 

Enter  Simonides,  Thaisa,  Lords,  and 


Sim.  Are  the  knights  ready  to  begin  the  triumph? 
1  Lord.  They  are,  my  liege ; 
And  stay  your  coming  to  present  themselves. 

13  The  rupture  of  the  sea  may  mean  the  breaking  of  the  sea, 
as  Malone  suggests ;  bat  I  would  rather  read  rapture,  which  is 
often  used  in  old  writers  for  violent  seizure,  or  the  act  of  carry- 
ing away  forcibly.     As  in  the  examples  cited  by  Malone. 

13  The  old  copy  reads,  '  his  building ;'  but  biding  was  pro- 
bably the  poet's  word.    A  similar  expression  occurs  in  Othello: 

' look,  I  have  a  weapon, 

A  better  never  did  sustain  itself 

Upon  a  soldier's  thigh.' 
Any  ornament  of  enchased  gold  was  anciently  styled  a  jewel 
See  vol.  i.  p.  363. 

14  Bases  were  a  sort  of  petticoat  that  hang  down  to  the  knees, 
and  were  suggested  by  the  Roman  military  dress,  in  which  the; 
seem  to  have  been  separate  parallel  slips  of  cloth  or  leather. 
In  Rider's  Latin  Dictionary,  bases  are  rendered  palHohun  curium. 

SC.  If."  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  293 

Sim.    Return  them1,   we  are  ready;    and  our 
In  honour  of  whose  birth  these  triumphs  are, 
Sits,  here,  like  beauty's  child,  whom  nature  gat 
For  men  to  see,  and  seeing  wonder  at.  [Exit  a  Lord. 

Thai.  It  pleaseth  you,  my  royal  father,  to  express 
My  commendations  great,  whose  merit's  less. 

Sim.  Tis  fit  it  should  be  so ;  for  princes  are 
A  model,  which  heaven  makes  like  to  itself: 
As  jewels  lose  their  glory,  if  neglected, 
So  princes  their  renown,  if  not  respected. 
Tis  now  your  honour2,  daughter,  to  explain 
The  labour  of  each  knight,  in  his  device. 

Thai.  Which,  to  preserve  mine  honour,  I'll  per- 

Enter  a  Knight :  he  passes  over  the  Stage,  and  his 
Squire  presents  his  Shield  to  the  Princess. 

Sim.  Who  is  the  first  that  doth  prefer  himself? 

Thai.  A  knight  of  Sparta,  my  renowned  father ; 
And  the  device  he  bears  upon  his  shield 
Is  a  black  iEthiop,  reaching  at  the  sun; 
The  word 3,  Lux  tua  vita  mihi.         '    0 

Th«  Highlanders  wear  a  kind  of  bases  at  this  day.  In  Massin- 
ger's  Picture,  Sophia,  speaking  of  Hilario's  disguise,  says  to 
Corisca : — 

' You,  minion, 

Had  a  hand  in  it  too,  as  it  appears 

Your  petticoat  serves  for  bases  to  this  warrior.' 

1  i.e.  return  them  notice  that  we  are  ready,  &c. 

2  The  sense  would  be  clearer  were  we  to  substitute  both  in 
this  and  the  following  instance  office  for  honour.  Honour  may 
however  mean  her  situation  as  queen  of  the  feast,  as  she  is  after- 
wards called.  The  idea  of  this  scene  may  have  been  derived 
from  the  third  book  of  the  Iliad,  where  Helen  describes  the 
Grecian  leaders  to  her  father-in-law  Priam. 

3  i.  e.  the  mot  or  motto.  See  Hamlet,  Act  i.  Sc.  5  : — '  Now 
to  my  tcord.' 

c  c  2 


Sim.  He  loved  you  well,  that  holds  his  life  of  yon. 

[  The  second  Knight  pasm. 
Who  is  the  second,  that  presents  himself? 

Thai.  A  prince  of  Macedon,  my  royal  father; 
And  the  device  he  bears  upon  his  shield 
Is  an  arm'd  knight,  that's  conquer'd  by  a  lady : 
The  motto  thus,  in  Spanish,  Piu  per  dulpura  que  per  I 
fuerca  4.  [  The  third  Knight  passes. 

Sim.  And  wnat's  the  third  ? 
Thai.  The  third,  of  Antioch; 

And  his  device,  a  wreath  of  chivalry : 
The  wdrd,  Me  pompce  provexit  apex5. 

[The  fourth  Knight  passes. 
Sim.  What  is  the  fourth  ? 
Thai.  A  burning  torch,  that's  turn'd  upside  down; 
The  word,  Quod  me  alit,  me  extinguit. 

Sim.  .Which  shows  that  beauty  hath  his  power 
and  will, 
Which  can  as  well  inflame,  as  it  can  kill. 

[The  fifth  Knight  passes. 
Thai.  The  fifth,  an  hand  environed  with  clouds; 
Holding  out  gold,  that's  by  the  touchstone  tried: 
The  motto  thus,  Sic  spectanda  fides. 

[The  sixth  Knight  passes. 
Sim.  And  what's  the  sixth  and  last,  which  the 
knight  himself 
With  such  a  graceful  courtesy  deliver'd  ? 

Thai.  He  seems  to  be  a  stranger;   but  his  pre- 
sent is 

4  i.e.  more  by  sweetness  than  by  force.     It  should  be  'Mas 
per  dulcura,'  &c.    Piu  is  Italian,  not  Spanish. 

5  The  work  which  appears  to  have  furnished  the  author  of 
the  play  with  this  and  the  two  subsequent  devices  of  the  knights 
has  the  following  title : — '  The  heroical  Devices  of  M.  Claudius 
Paradin,  Canon  of  Beaugen ;  whereunto  are  added  the  Lord  Ga- 
briel Sjmeon's,  and  others.  Translated  out  of  Latin  into  Eng- 
lish, by  P.  S.'  1591,  24mo.  Mr.  Douce  has  given  copies  of  some 
of  them  in  his  IWustcatuma,  no\.  \\.  ^.126« 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  295 

A  wither'd  branch,  that's  only  green  at  top ; 
The  motto,  In  hac  spe  vivo6. 

Sim.  A  pretty  moral ; 
From  the  dejected  state  wherein  he  is, 
He  hopes'  by  you  his  fortunes  yet  may  flourish. 

1  Lord.  He  had  need  mean  better  than  his  out- 

ward show 
Can  any  way  speak  in  his  just  commend : 
For,  by  his  rusty  outside,  he  appears 
To  have  practis'd  more  the  whipstock7,  than  the  lance. 

2  Lord.  He  well  may  be  a  stranger,  for  he.  comes 
To  an  honour'd  triumph,  strangely  furnished. 

3  Lord.  And  on  set  purpose  let  his  armour  rust 
Until  this  day,  to  scour  it  in  the  dust8. 

Sim.  Opinion's  but  a  fool,  that  makes  us  scan 
The  outward  habit  by  the  inward  man9. 
But  stay,  the  knights  are  coming;  we'll  withdraw 
Into  the  gallery.  [Exeunt. 

[Great  shouts,  and  all  cry,  The  mean  knight. 

The  same.    A  Hall  of  State. — A  Banquet  prepared. 

Enter  Simonides,  Thaisa,  Lords,  Knights, 

and  Attendants. 
Sim.  Knights, 
To  say  you  are  welcome,  were  superfluous. 

6  This  device  and  motto  may  have  been  taken  from  Daniel's 
translation  of  Paulas  Jovius,  1585 ;  in  which  it  will  be  found  at 
jig.  H  7.  b. 

7  i.  e.  the  carter's  whip.  It  was  sometimes  used  as  a  term  of 
contempt ;  as  in  Albumazar,  1615  :— 

'  oat,  Carter, 

Hence,  dirty  whipstock.' 

8  The  idea  of  this  ill  appointed  knight  appears  to  have  been 
aken  from  the  first  book  of  Sidney's  Arcadia : — '  His  armour  of 
is  old  a  fashion,  beside  the  rustic  poornesse,  &c.  so  that  all  that 
ooked  on  measured  his  length  on  the  earth  already/  &c. 

9  i.  e.  '  that  makes  as  scan  the  inward  man  by  \\\e  <raVfl«x&. 
labit.'    Such  inversions  are  not  uncommon  in  old  vmteT*. 

296  PERICLES,  ACT  11 

To  place  upon  the  volume  of  your  deeds, 
As  in  a  title-page,  your  worth  in  arms. 
Were  more  than  you  expect,  or  more  than's  fit, 
Since  every  worth  in  show  commends  itself. 
Prepare  for  mirth,  for  mirth  becomes  a  feast: 
You  are  princes,  and  my  guests. 

Thai.  But  you,  my  knight  and  gues 

To  whom  this  wreath  of  victory  I  give, 
And  crown  you  king  of  this  day's  happiness. 

Per.  Tis  more  by  fortune,  lady,  than  my  merit 

Sim.  Call  it  by  what  you  will,  the  day  is-  youi 
And  here,  I  hope,  is  none  that  envies  it. 
In  framing  artists,  art  hath  thus  decreed, 
To  make  some  good,  but  others  to  exceed ; 
And  you're  her  labour'd  scholar.     Come,  que 

o'  the  feast 
(For,  daughter,  so  you  are),  here  take  your  plact 
Marshal  the  rest,  as  they  deserve  their  grace. 

Knights.  We  are  honour'd  much  by  good  Sim 

Sim.  Your  presence  glads  our  days ;  honour  i 
For  who  hates  honour,  hates  the  gods  above. 

Marsh.  Sir,  yond's  your  place. 

Per.  Some  other  is  more  I 

1  Knight.  Contend  not,  sir ;  for  we  are  gentleim 
That  neither  in  our  hearts,  nor  outward  eyes, 
Envy  the  great,  nor  do  the  low  despise. 

Per.  You  are  right  courteous  knights. 

Sim.  Sit,  sit,  sir;  * 

Per.  By  Jove,  I  wonder,  that  is  king  of  though 
These  cates  resist  me1,  be  not  thought  upon. 

1  i.e.  '  these  delicacies  go  against  my  stomach.'     The 
copy  gives  this  speech  to  Simonides,  and  reads,  '  he  not  thou 
upon.'     Gower  describes  Apollinus,  the  Pericles  of  this  p 
under  the  same  circumstances  :— 

'  That  he  sat  ever  stille  and  thought 
As  he  which  of  no  tow*  TuughX? 

\  III.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  297 

Thai.  By  Juno,  that  is  queen 
marriage,  all  the  viands  that  I  eat 
seem  unsavoury,  wishing  him  my  meat; 
re  he's  a  gallant  gentleman. 
Sim.  He's  but 

country  gentleman; 

)  has  done  no  more  than  other  knights  have  done ; 
aken  a  staff,  or  so;  so  let  it  pass. 
Thai.  To  me  he  seems  like  diamond  to  glass. 
Per.  Yon  king's  to  me,  like  to  my  father's  picture, 
hich  tells  me,  in  that  glory  once  he  was ; 
id  princes  sit,  like  stars,  about  his  throne, 
id  he  the  sun,  for  them  to  reverence, 
me  that  beheld  him,  but  like  lesser  lights, 
d  vail2  their  crowns  to  his  supremacy; 
here  3  now  his  son's  a  glowworm  in  the  night, 
e  which  hath  fire  in  darkness,  none  in  light; 
hereby  I  see  that  time's  the  king  of  men, 
r  he's  their  parent,  and  he  is  their  grave4, 
td  gives  them  what  he  will,  not  what  they  crave. 
Sim.  What,  are  you  merry,  knights? 
LKnight.  Who  can  be  other,  in  this  royal  presence  ? 
Sim.  Here,  with  a  cup  that's  stor'd  unto  the  brim 
s  you  do  love,  fill  to  your  mistress'  lips), 
b  drink  this  health  to  you. 
Knights.  We  thank  your  grace, 

Sim.  Yet  pause  a  while ; 


Where  is  here  again  used  for  whereas.    The  peculiar  pro- 
:j  of  the  glowworm,  upon  which  the  poet  has  here  employed 
le,  is  happily  described  in  Hamlet  in  a  single  word: — 
'  The  glowworm  shows  the  matin  to  be  near, 
And  'gins  to  pale  bis  uneffectual  fire.1 

So  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

'  The  earth,  that's  nature's  mofher,  is  her  tomb  ; 
What  is  her  burying  grave,  that  is  her  womb.' 

ton  has  the  same  thought : — 

'The  womb  of  nature,  and  perhaps  her  grave.' 


Yon  knight,  methinks,  doth  sit  too  melancholy, 
As  if  the  entertainment  in  our  court 
Had  not  a  show  might  countervail  his  worth. 
Note  it  not  you,  Thaisa? 

Thai.  What  is  it 

To  me,  my  father  ? 

Sim.  O,  attend,  my  daughter; 

Princes,  in  this,  should  live  like  gods  above, 
Who  freely  give  to  every  one  that  comes 
To  honour  them :  and  princes,  not  doing  so, 
Are  like  to  gnats,  which  make  a  sound,  but  kill'd 
Are  wpnder'd  at5. 
Therefore  to  make  his  entrance6  more  sweet 
Here  say,  we  drink  this  standing-bowl  of  wine  to 

Thai.  Alas,  my  father,  it  befits  not  me 
Unto  a  stranger  knight  to  be  so  bold ; 
He  may  my  proffer  take  for  an  offence, 
Since  men  take  women's  gifts  for  impudence. 

Sim.  How! 
Do  as  I  bid  you,  or  you'll  move  me  else. 

Thai.  Now,  by  the  gods,  he  could  not  please  me 
better.  [Aside. 

Sim.  And  further  tell  him,  we  desire  to  know, 
Of  whence  he  is,  his  name,  and  parentage. 

Thai.  The  king,  my  father,  sir,  has  drunk  to  you. 

5  'When  kings,  like  insects,  lie  dead  before  us,  our  admira- 
tion is  excited  by  contemplating  how  in  both  instances  the  powers 
of  creating  bustle  were  superior  to  those  which  either  object 
should  seem  to  have  promised.  The  worthless  monarch,  and 
the  idle  gnat,  have  only  lived 'to  make  an  empty  bluster;  and 
when  both  alike  are  dead,  we  wonder  how  it  happened  that  they 
made  so  much,  or  that  we  permitted  them  to  make  it :  a  natural 
reflection  on  the  death  of  an  unserviceable  prince,  who  having 
dispensed  no  blessings,  can  hope  for  no  better  character.'— 

6  By  his  entrance  appears  1o  be  meant  his  present  trance,  the 
reverie  in  which  he  is  sitting. 

SC.  Ill*  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  299 

Per.  I  thank  him. 

Thai.  Wishing  it  so  much  blood  unto  your  life. 

Per.  I  thank  both  him  and  you,  and  pledge  him 

Thai.  And  further  he  desires  to  know  of  you, 
Of  whence  you  are,  your  name  and  parentage. 

Per.  A  gentleman  of  Tyre — (my  name,  Pericles ; 

My  education  being  in  arts  and  arms) ; 

Who  looking  for  adventures  in  the  world, 
Was  by  the  rough  seas  reft  of  ships  and  men, 
And,  after  shipwreck,  driven  upon  this  shore. 

Thai.   He  thanks  your  grace;    names  himself 
A  gentleman  of  Tyre,  who  only  by 
Misfortune  of  the  seas  has  been  bereft 
Of  ships  and  men,  and  cast  upon  this  shore. 

Sim.  Now  by  the  gods,  I  pity  his  misfortune, 
And  will  awake  him  from  his  melancholy. 
Come,  gentlemen,  we  sit  too  long  on  trifles, 
And  waste  the  time,  which  looks  for  other  revels. 
Even  in  your  armours,  as  you  are  address'd7, 
Will  very  well  become  a  soldier's  dance. 
I  will  not  have  excuse,  with  saying,  this 
Loud  musick  is  too  harsh  for  ladies'  heads ;    > 
Since  they  love  men  in  arms,  as  well  as  beds. 

[The,  Knights  dance. 
So,  this  was  well  ask'd,  'twas  so  well  perform'd. 
Come,  sir;  . 

Here  is  a  lady  that  wants  breathing  too: 
And  I  have  often  heard,  you  knights  of  Tyre 
.  Are  excellent  in  making  ladies  trip ; 
And  that  their  measures  are  as  excellent. 

Per.  In  those  that  practise  them,  they  are,  my  lord. 

7  *  As  you  are  accoutred,  prepared  for  combat.'     So  in  King 
Henry  V. : — 

*  To-morrow  for  the  march  are  we  address'd.' 


Sim.  O,  that's  as  much,  as  you  would  be  denied 

[  The  Knights  and  Ladies  dance. 
Of  your  fair  courtesy. — Unclasp,  unclasp ; 
Thanks,  gentlemen,  to  all;  all  have  done  well; 
But  you  the  best.    [To Pericles].     Pages  and 

lights,  conduct 
These  knights  unto  their  several  lodgings :  Yours,  sir, 
We  have  given  order  to  be  next  our  own. 

Per.  I  am  at  your  grace's  pleasure. 

Sim.  Princes,  it  is  too  late  to  talk  of  love, 
For  that's  the  mark  I  know  you  level  at : 
Therefore  each  one  betake  him  to  his  rest ; 
To-morrow,  all  for  speeding  do  their  best.  [Exeunt. 

Tyre.     A  Room  in  the  Governor's  House. 

Enter  Helicanus  and  Escanes. 

Hel.  No,  no,  my  Escanes;  know  this  of  me,— 
Antiochus  from  incest  liv'd  not  free; 
For  which,  the  most  high  gods  not  minding  longer, 
To  withhold  the  vengeance  that  they  had  in  store, 
Due  to  this  heinous  capital  offence, 
Even  in  the  height  and  pride  of  all  his  glory, 
Whoa  he  was  seated,  and  his  daughter  with  him, 
In  a  chariot  of  inestimable  value, 
A  fire  from  heaven  came,  and  shrivel'd  up 
Their  bodies,  even  to  loathing;  for  they  so  stunk, 
That  all  those  eyes  ador'd  them1  ere  their  fall, 
Scorn  now  their  hand  should  give  them  burial. 

Esca.  Twas  very  strange. 

Hel.  And  yet  but  just;  for  though 

This  king  were  great,  his  greatness  was  no  guard 
To  bar  heaven's  shaft;  but  sin  had  his  reward. 

Esca.  Tis  very  true. 

1  i.  e.  which  ador'd  them*. 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  301 

Enter  Three  Lords. 

1  Lord.  See,  not  a  man  in  private  conference, 
Or  council,  has  respect  with  him  but  he  2. 

2  Lord.  It  shall  no  longer  grieve  without  reproof. 

3  Lord.  And  curst  be  he  that  will  not  second  it. 
2  Lord.  Follow  me  then :  Lord  Helicane,  a  word. 
Hel.  With  me  ?  and  welcome :   Happy  day,  my 

1  Lord.  Know  that  our  griefs  are  risen  to  the  top, 
And  now  at  length  they  overflow  their  banks. 
Hel.  Your  griefs,  for  what?  wrong  not  the  prince 
you  love. 

1  Lord.  Wrong  not  yourself  then,  noble  Helicane ; 
But  if  the  prince  do  live,  let  us  salute  him, 

Or  know  what  ground's  made  happy  by  his  breath. 
If  in  the  world  he  live,  we'll  seek  him  out; 
If  in  his  grave  he  rest,  we'll  find  him  there ; 
And  be  resolv'd  3,  he  lives  to  govern  us, 
Or  dead,  gives  cause  to  mourn  his  funeral, 
And  leaves  us  to  our  free  election. 

2  Lord.  Whose  death's  indeed,  the  strongest  in 

our  censure4: 
And  knowing  this  kingdom,  if  without  a  head 
(Like  goodly  buildings  left  without  a  roof),     # 
Will  soon  to  ruin  fall,  your  noble  self, 
That  best  know'st  how  to  rule,  and  how  to  reign, 
We  thus  submit  unto, — our  sovereign. 

All.  Live,  noble  Helicane ! 

Hel.  Try  honour's  cause,  forbear  your  suffrages : 
If  that  you  love  prince  Pericles,  forbear. 

*  *  To  what  this  charge  of  partiality  was  designed  to  conduct 
we  do  not  learn ;  for  it  appears  4o  have  no  influence  over  the  rest 
of  the  dialogue.' — Steevens. 

3  Satisfied. 

4  i.  e.. '  the  most  probable  in  our  opinion.'  Censure  is  fre- 
quently used  for  judgment,  opinion,  by  Shakspeare. 

VOL.  IX.  D  D 


Take  I  your  wish,  I  leap  into  the  seat5, 

Where's  hourly  trouble  for  a  minute's  ease. 

A  twelvemonth  longer,  let  me  then  entreat  you 

To  forbear  choice  i'the  absence  of  your  king6; 

If  in  which  time  expir'd,  he  not  return, 

I  shall  with  aged  patience  bear  your  yoke. 

But  if  I  cannot  win  you  to  this  love, 

Go  search  like  noblemen,  like  noble  subjects, 

And  in  your  search  spend  your  adventurous  worth; 

Whom  if  you  find,  and  win  unto  return, 

You  shall  like  diamonds  sit  about  his  crown. 

1  Lord.  To  wisdom  he's  a  fool  that  will  not  yield; 
And,  since  Lord  Helicane  enjoineth  us, 
We  with  our  travels  will  endeavour  it. 

Hel.  Then  you  love  us,  we  you,  and  we'll  clasp 
hands ; 
When  peers  thus  knit,  a  kingdom  ever  stands. 



Pentapolis.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Simonides,  reading  a  Letter;  the  Knights 

meet  him. 

1  Knight.  Good  morrow  to  the  good  Simonides. 

Sim.  Knights,  from  my  daughter  this  I  let  you 
That  for  this  twelvemonth,  she'll  not  undertake 
A  married  life. 

5  Tho  old  copy  reads : —  / 

*  Take  I  your  wish,  I  leap  into  the  seas?  &c. 
Steevens  contends  for  the  old  reading ;  that  it  is  merely  figura- 
tive, and  means,  '  I  embark  too  hastily  on  an  expedition  in  which 
ease  is  disproportioned  to  labour.' 

6  Some  word  being  omitted  in  this  line  in  the  old  copy,  Stee- 
vens thus  supplied  it : — 

'  To  forbear  choice  V  the  absence  of  your  king.1 

SC.  V.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  303 

Her  reason  to  herself  is  only  known, 
Which  from  herself  by  no  means  can  I  get. 

2  Knight.  May  we  not  get  access  to  her,  my  lord? 
Sim.  'Faith,  by  no  means ;  she  hath  so  strictly 

tied  her 
To  her  chamber,  that  it  is  impossible. 
One  twelve  moons  more  she'll  wear  Diana's  livery ; 
This  by  the  eye  of  Cynthia  hath  she  vow'd1, 
And  on  her  virgin  honour  will  not  break  it. 

3  Knight*  Though  loath  to  bid  farewell,  we  take 

our  leaves.  [Exeunt. 

Sim..  So 
They're  well  despatch'd;    now  to  my  daughter's 

letter : 
She  tells  me  here,  she'll  wed  the. stranger  knight, 
Or  never  more  to  view  nor  day  nor  light. 
Mistress,  'tis  well,  your  choice  agrees  with  mine; 
I  like  that  well : — nay,  how  absolute  she's  in't, 
Not  minding  whether  I  dislike  or  no !  • 
Well,  I  commend  her  choice ; 
And  will  no  longer  have  it  be  delay'd. 
Soft,  here  he  comes : — I  must  dissemble  it. 

•  Enter  Pericles. 

Per.  All  fortune  to  the  good  Simonides! 

Sim.  To  you  as  much,  sir !  I  am  beholden  to  you, 
For  your  sweet  musick  this  last  night :  my  ears, 
I  do  protest,  were  never  better  fed 
With  such  delightful  pleasing  harmony. 

Per.  It  is  your  grace's  pleasure  to  commend ; 
Not  my  desert. 

1  '  It  were  to  be  wished  (says  Steevens),  that  Simonides,  who 
is  represented  as  a  blameless  character,  had  bit  on  some  more 
ingenious  expedient  for  the  dismission  of  these  wooers.  Here 
he  tells  them,  as  a  solemn  truth,  what  he  knows  to  be  a  fiction 
of  his  own.' 


Sim.  Sir,  you  are  musick's  master. 

Per.  The  worst  of  all  her  scholars,  my  good  lord. 

Sim.  Let  me  ask  one  thing.  What  do  you  think, 
sir,  of 
My  daughter  ? 

Per.  As  of  a  most  virtuous  princess. 

Sim.  And  she  is  fair  too,  is  she  not? 

Per.  As  a  fair  day  in  summer ;  wondrous  fair. 

Sim.  My  daughter,  sir,  thinks  very  well  of  you ; 
Ay,  so  well,  sir,  that  you  must  be  her  master, 
And  she'll  your  scholar  be ;  therefore  look  to  it. 

Per.  Unworthy  I  to  be  her  schoolmaster. 

Sim.  She  thinks  not  so ;  peruse  this  writing  else. 

Per.  What's  here ! 
A  letter,  that  she  loves  the  knight  of  Tyre? 
Tis  the  king's  subtilty,  to  have  my  life.         [Aside. 
O,  seek  not  to  entrap,  my  gracious  lord, 
A  stranger,  and  distressed  gentleman, 
That  never  aim'd  so  high,  to  love  your  daughter, 
But  bent  all  offices  to  honour  her. 

Sim.  Thou  hast  bewitch'd  my  daughter,  and  thou 
A  villain. 

Per.  By  the  gods,  I  have  not;  sir. 
Never  did  thought  of  mine  levy  offence ; 
Nor  never  did  my  actions  yet  commence 
A  deed  might  gain  her  love,  or  your  displeasure. 

Sim.  Traitor,  thou  liest. 

Per.  Traitor! 

Sim.  Ay,  traitor,  sir. 

Per.  Even  in  his  throat  (unless  it  be  the  king), 
That  calls  me  traitor,  I  return  the  lie. 

Sim.  Now,  by  the  gods,  I  do  applaud  his  cou- 
_  rage.  [Aside. 

.    Per.  My  actions  are  as  noble  as  my  thoughts, 

SC.  V.  PRINCE  .OF  TYRE.  305 

That  never  relish'd2  of  a  base  descent. 
I  came  unto  your  court,  for  honour's  cause, 
And  not  to  be  a  rebel  to  her  state ; 
And  he  that  otherwise  accounts  of  me, 
This  sword  shall  prove  he's  honour's  enemy. 

Sim.  No! — 
Here  comes  my  daughter,  she  can  witness  it. 

Enter  Thaisa. 

Per.  Then,  as  you  are  as  virtuous  as  fair, 
Resolve  your  angry  father,  if  my  tongue 
Did  e'er  solicit,  or  my  hand  subscribe 
To  any  syllable  that  made  love  to  you  ? 

Thai.  Why,  sir,  say  if  you  had, 
Who  takes  offence  at  that  would  make  me  glad  ? 

Sim.  Yea,  mistress,  are  you  so  peremptory  ?— *- 
I  am  glad  of  it  with  all  my  heart.  [Aside.]     I'll 

tame  you ; 
I'll  bring  you  in  subjection. — 
Will  you,  not  having  my  consent,  bestow 
Your  love  and  your  affections  on  a  stranger  ? 
(Who,  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary, 
Or  think,  may  be  as  great  in  blood  as  1).     [Aside. 
Hear  therefore,  mistress ;  frame  your  will  to  mine, — 
And  you,  sir,  hear  you. — Either  be  rul'd  by  me, 
Or  I  will  make  you — man  and  wife. — 
Nay,  come ;  your  hands  and  lips  must  seal  it  too. — 
And  being  join'd,  I'll  thus  your  hopes  destroy ; — 
And  for  a  further  grief, — God  give  you  joy ! 
What,  are  you  both  pleas'd  ? 

Thai.  Yes,  if  you  love  me,  sir. 

2  So  in  Hamlet : — 

'  That  has  do  relish  of  salvation  in  it.' 
And  in  Macbeth  : — 

'.  So  well  thy  words  become  thee  as  thy  wounds, 
They  smack  of  honour  both/ 



306  PERICLES,  ACT  11. 

Per.  Even  as  my  life,  my  blood  that  fosters  it3. 
Sim.  What,  are  you  both  agreed? 
Both.  Yes,  please  your- majesty. 

Sim.  It  pleaseth  me  so  well,  I'll  see  you  wed ; 
Then,  with  what  haste  you  can,  get  you  to  bed. 



Enter  Gower. 

Gow.  Now  sleep  y slaked  hath  the  rout ; 
No  din  but  snores,  the  house  about, 
Made  louder  by  the  o'er-fed  breast1 
Of  this  most  pompous  marriage-feast. 
The  cat,  with  eyne  of  burning  coal, 
Now  couches  'fore  the  mouse's  hole ; 
And  crickets  sing  at  th'  oven's  mouth, 
As  the  blither  for  their  drouth. 
Hymen  hath  brought  the  bride  to  bed, 
.  Where,  by  the  loss  of  maidenhead, 
A  babe  is  moulded ; — Be  attent, 
And  time  that  is  so  briefly  spent, 
With  your  fine  fancies  quaintly  eche  2 ; 
What's  dumb  in  show,  I'll  plain  with  speech. 

3  The  quarto  of  1619  reads : — 

'  Even  as  my  life  or  blood  that  fosters  it.' 

We  have  the  same  thought  most  exquisitely  expressed  in  Juli.s 
Caesar : — 

'  As  dear  to  me,  as  are  the  ruddy  drops 

That  visit  my  sad  heart.' 

1  So  Virgil,  speaking  of  Rhamnes,  who  was  killed  in  the  mid- 
night expedition  of  Nisas  and  Euryalns  : 

'  Rhamneten  aggreditur,  qui  forte  tapetibus  aJtis 
Exti  actus,  toto  profiabat  pectore  somnum, 

3  Eke  out 


Dumb  Show. 
Enter  and  Simon  ides  at  one  door,  with 
A  ttendants :  a  Messenger  meet*  them,  kneels,  and 
give*  Pericles  a  Letter.  Pericles  shows  it 
to  Simonides;  the  Lords  kneel  to  the  former*. 
Then  enter  Tmaisa  with  child,  and  Lycho- 
rida.  Simonides  shows  his  Daughter  the 
Letter;  the  rejoice*:  the  and  Pericles  take 
leave  of  her  Father,  and  depart.  Then  Simo- 
nides, Sfc.  retire. 

Gow.  By  many  a  dearn  and  painful  perch* 
Of  Pericles  the  careful  search 
By  the  four  opposing  coigncs, 
Which  the  world  together  joins, 
Is  made,  with  alt  due  diligence, 
That  horse,  and  sail,  and  high  expense, 
Can  stead  the  quest5-     At  last  from  Tyre 
(Fame  answering  the  most  strong  inquire), 
To  the  court  of  King  Simonides 
Are  letters  brought;  the  tenour  these : 
Antiochus  and  his  daughter's  dead: 
The  men  of  Tyrus,  on  the  head 

1  The  Lords  kneel  lo  Pericles,  because  they  are  now,  for  the 
first  time,  informed  by  this  letter,  that  he  is  king  of  Tyre.  '  No 
man,'  says  Gower,  in  his  Confessio  Amantis'. — 

' knew  the  soth  oai, 

But  be  hym  selfe ;  what  man  he  was." 
By  the  death  of  Antiochns  and  hia  daughter,  Pericles  has  also 
succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Antioch,  in  consequence  or  having 
rightly  interpreted  the  riddle  proposed  to  him. 

*  Dearn  signifies  hmrly,  solitary.  A  perch  is  a  latasvrt  of  fine 
yards  and  a  half.  '  The  careful  search  of  Pericles  is  made  by 
many  a  dearn  and  painful  perch,— by  the  fotir  opposing  coignea 
which  join  the  world  together;  with  all  line  diligence.' 

1  i.  e.  kelp,  befriend,  or  assist  the  nurcn.  So  Jn  JI. .  -  ■. :  ■  for 
Measure  :— 

To  bring  me  to  the  sight  of  Isabella  V 


Of  Helicanus  would  set  on 

The  crown  of  Tyre,  but  he  will  none  : 

The  mutiny  there  he  hastes  t'  oppress6; 

Says  to  them,  if  King  Pericles 

Come  not  home,  in  twice  six  moons, 

He,  obedient  to  their  dooms, 

Will  take  the  crown.    The  sum  of  this, 

Brought  hither  to  Pentapolis, 

Y-ravished  the  regions  round, 

And  every  one  with  claps  'gan  sound, 

Our  heir  apparent  is  a  king : 

Who  dream' d,  who  thought  of  such  a  thing? 

Brief,  he  must  hence  depart  to  Tyre : 

His  queen,  with  child,  makes  her  desire 

(Which  who  shall  cross  ?)  along  to  go ; 

(Omit  we  all  their  dole  and  woe) ; 

Lychorida,  her  nurse,  she  takes, 

And  so  to  sea.     Their  vessel  shakes 

On  Neptune's  billow;  half  the  flood 

Hath  their  keel  cut;  but  fortune's  mood 

Varies  again ;  the  grizzled  north 

Disgorges  such  a  tempest  forth, 

That,  as  a  duck  for  life  that  dives, 

So  up  and  down  the  poor  ship  drives. 

The  lady  shrieks,  and,  well-a-near7 ! 

Doth  fall  in  travail  with  her  fear: 

And  what  ensues  in  this  fell  storm, 

Shall,  for  itself,  itself  perform. 

I  nill  relate ;  action  may 

Conveniently  the  rest  convey : 

Which  might  not  what  by  me  is  told  8. 

In  your  imagination  hold 

6  i.  e.  to  suppress :  opprimere. 

7  An  exclamation  equivalent  to  wett-a-day. 

8  '  The  farther  consequences  of  this  storm  I  shall  not  describe ; 
what  ensues  maybe  conveniently  exhibited  in  action ;  but  action 
could  not  'well  have  &\s\>W}£&  «.U  the.  events  that  I  have  now 


This  stage,  the  ship9,  upon  whose  deck 

The  sea-tost  Pericles  appears  to  speak.      [Exit. 


Enter  Pericles,  on  a  Ship  at  Sea. 

Per.  Thou  God  of  this  great  vast1,  rebuke  these 

9  It  is  clear  from  these  lines  that  when  the  play  was  originally 
performed,  no  attempt  was  made  to  exhibit  either  a  sea  or  a 
ship.  The  ensuing  scene  and  some  others  most  have  suffered 
considerably  in  the  representation,  from  the  poverty  of  the  stage 
apparatus  in  the  time  of  the  author. 

1  It  should  be  remembered  that  Pericles  is  supposed  to  speak 
from  the  deck.  Lychorida,  on  whom  he  calls,  is  supposed  to 
be  in  the  cabin  beneath.  *  This  great  vast'  is  '  this  wide  expanse.' 
See  vol.  i.  p.  6,  note  2.  This  speech  is  exhibited  in  so  strange 
a  form  in  the  old  editions,  that  it  is  here  given  to  enable  the 
reader  to  judge  in  what  a  corrupt  state  it  has  come  down  to  us, 
and  be  induced  to  treat  the  attempts  to  restore  it  to  integrity 
with  indulgence : — 

4  The  God  of  this  great  vast,  rebuke  these  surges, 
"Which  wash  both  heaven  and  hell ;  and  thou  that  hast 
Upon  the  windes  commaund,  bind  them  in  brasse; 
Having  call'd  them  from  the  deepe,  6  still 
Thy  deafning  dreadful  thunders,  gently  quench 
Thy  nimble  sulphirous  flashes,  6  How  Lychorida ! 
How  does  my  queene?  thou  storm  venemously, 
"Wilt  thou  speat  all  thyself?  the  sea-mans  whistle 
Is  as  a  whisper  in  the  eares  of  death, 
Unheard  Lychorida?  Lucina  oh  ! 
Divinest  patrioness  and  my  wife  gentle 
To  those  that  cry  by  night,  convey  thy  deitie 
Aboard  our  dauncing  boat,  make  swift  the  pangues 
Of  my  queenes  travayles  ?  now  Lychorida  V 
Pericles,  having  called  to  Lychorida,  without  the  power  to  make 
her  bear  on  account  of  the  tempest,  at  last  with  frantic  peevish' 
ness  addresses  himself  to  it : — 

' Thou  storm  thou !  venemously 

Wilt  thou  spit  all  thyself?'— 
Having  indulged  himself  in  this  question,  he  grows  cooler,  and 
observes  that  the  very  boatswain's  whistle  has  no  more  effect  on 
the  sailors  than  the  voices  of  those  who  speak  to  the  dead.  He 
then  repeats  his  inquiries  of  Lychorida,  but  receiving  no  answer, 
concludes  with  a  prayer  for  his  queen. 


Which  wash  both  heaven  and  hell;  and  thou,  that 

Upon  the  winds  command,  bind  them  in  brass, 
Having  call'd  them  from  the  deep!    O  still  thy 

Thy  dreadful  thunders ;  gently  quench  thy  nimble 
Sulphureous  flashes ! — O  how,  Lychorida, 
How  does  my  queen ! — Thou  storm,  thou !  venom- 
Wilt  thou  spit  all  thyself? — The  seaman's  whistle 
Is  as  a  whisper  in  the  ears  of  death, 
Unheard. — Lychorida ! — Lucina,  O 
Divinest  patroness,  and  midwife,  gentle 
To  those  that  cry  by  night,  convey  thy  deity 
Aboard  our  dancing  boat ;  make  swift  the  pangs 
Of  my  queen's  travails ! — Now,  Lychorida 

Enter  Lychorida,  with  an  Infant. 

Lye.  Here  is  a  thing 
Too  young  for  such  a  place,  who  if  it  had 
Conceit3  would  die  as  I  am  like  to  do. 
Take  in  your  arms  this  piece  of  your  dead  queen. 

Per.  How!  how,  Lychorida! 

Lye.  Patience,  good  sir;  do  not  assist  the  storm. 
Here's  all  that  is  left  living  of  your  queen, — 
A  little  daughter;  for  the  sake  of  it, 
Be  manly,  and  take  comfort. 

Per.  O  you  gods ! 

Why  do  you  make  us  love  your  goodly  gifts, 
And  snatch  them  straight  away  ?  We,  here  below, 
Recall  not  what  we  give,  and  therein  may 
Vie  4  honour  with  you. 

Lye.  Patience,  good  sir, 

Even  for  this  charge. 

3  Maliciously.  3  i.e.*  who  if  it  had  thought.* 

.  4  That  is, '  contend  with  you  in  honour.'     The  old  copy  reads, 
'  Use  honour  with  you.'     See  vol.  iii.  page  386,  note  19. 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TyRE.  311 

Per.  Now,  mild  may  be  thy  life ! 

For  a  more  blust'rous  birth  had  never  babe : 
Quiet  and. gentle  thy  conditions5  ! 
For  thou  art  the  rudeliest  welcom'd  to  this  world, 
That  e'er  was  prince's  child.   Happy  what  follows ! 
Thou  hast  as  chiding6  a  nativity, 
As  fire,  air,  water,  earth,  and  heaven  can  make, 
To  herald  thee  from  the  womb :  even  at  the  first, 
Thy  loss  is  more  than  can  thy  portage  quit7, 
With  all  thou  canst  find  here. — Now  the  good  gods 
Throw  their  best  eyes  upon  it ! 

Enter  Two  Sailors. 

1  Sail.  What  courage,  sir?  God  save  you.. 
Per.  Courage  enough:  I  do  not  fear  the  flaw8; 

It  hath  done  to  me  the  worst.     Yet,  for  the  love 
Of  this  poor  infant,  this  fresh-new  sea-farer, 
I  would,  it  would  be  quiet. 

\Sail.  Slack  the  bolins9  there;  thou  wilt  not, 
wilt  thou?  Blow  and  split  thyself. 

2  Sail.  But  sea-room,  an  the  brine  and  cloudy 
billow  kiss  the  moon,  I  care  not. 

1  Sail.  Sir,  your  queen  must  overboard;  the  sea 
works  high,  the  wind  is  loud,  and  will  not  lie  till 
the  ship  be  cleared  of  the  dead. 

5  Conditions  are  qualities,  dispositions  of  mind.  See  vol.  i, 
p.  145,  note  14. 

6  i.  e.  as  noisy  a  one.     See  vol.  ii.  p.  281,  note  10. 

7  i.  e.  thou  hast  already  lost  more  (by  the  death  of  thy  mo- 
ther) than  thy  safe  arrival  at  the  port  of  life  can  counterbalance, 
with  all  to  hoot  that  we  can  give  thee.  Portage  is  here  used 
for  conveyance  into  life. 

8  A  flaw  is  a  stormy  gust  of  wind.  See  Coriolanus,  Act  v. 
Sc.  3,  note  20. 

9  Bolins  or  bowlines  are  ropes  by  which  the  sails  of  a  ship  are 
governed  when  the  wind  is  unfavourable:  they  are  slackened 
when  it  is  high.    Thus  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  :•— 

' the  wind  is  fair  j  t 

Top  the  bowling* 


Per.  That's  your  superstition. 

1  Sail.  Pardon  us,  sir ;  with  us  at  sea  it  still 
hath  been  observed ;  and  we  are  strong  in  custom10. 
Therefore  briefly  yield  her ;  for  she  must  overboard 

Per.  Be  it  as  you  think  meet. — Most  wretched 
queen ! 

Lye.  Here  she  lies,  sir. 

Per.'  A  terrible  child-bed  hast  thou  had,  my  dear, 
No  light,  no  fire ;  the  unfriendly  elements 
Forgot  thee  utterly ;  nor  have  I  time 
To  give  thee  hallow'd  to  thy  grave,  but  straight 
Must  cast  thee,  scarcely  coffin'd,  in  the  ooze  n ; 
Where,  for  a  monument  upon  thy  bones, 
And  aye-remaining ls  lamps,  the  belching  whale, 
And  humming  water  must  o'erwhelm  thy  corpse, 
Lying  with  simple  shells.     Lychorida, 
Bid  Nestor  bring  me  spices,  ink,  and  paper, 
My  casket  and  my  jewels ;  and  bid  Nicander 
Bring  me  the  satin  coffer13 :  lay  the  babe 

10  Tbe  old  copy  reads, ( strong  in  easterner  The  emendation 
is  Mr.  Boswell's. 

u  Old  copy, '  in  oare.' 

n  The  old  copies  erroneously  read  : — 

*  The  air-remaining  lamps.' 
The  emendation  is  Malone's.  The  propriety  of  it  will  be  evi- 
dent if  we  recar  to  the  author's  leading  thought,  which  is  founded 
on  the  customs  observed  in  the  pomp  of  ancient  sepulture. 
Within  old  monuments  and  receptacles  for  the  dead  perpetual 
(i.  e.  aye-remaining)  lamps  were  supposed  to  be  lighted  up. 
Thus  Pope,  in  his  Eloisa: — 

'  Ah  hopeless  lasting  flames,  like  those  that  born 
To  light  the  dead,  and  warm  th'  unfruitful  urn !' 
"*  Instead  of  a  monument  erected  over  thy  bones,  and  perpetual 
lamps  to  burn  near  them,  the  spouting  whale  shall  oppress  thee 
with  his  weight,  and  the  mass  of  waters  shall  roll  with  low  heavy 
murmur  over  thy  head.' 

n3  The  old  copies  have  coffin,  Pericles  does  not  mean  to  bury 
his  queen  in  this  coffer  (which  was  probably  one  lined  with 
satin),  but  to  take  from  thence  the  cloth  of  state,  in  which  she 
was  afterwards  shrouded. 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  313 

Upon  the  pillow :  hie  thee,  whiles  I  say 

A  priestly  farewell  to  her :  suddenly,  woman. 

[Exit  Lychorida. 

2  Sail.  Sir,  we  have  a  chest  beneath  the  hatches, 
caulk'd  and  bitumed  ready. 

Per.  I  thank  thee.  Mariner,  say  what  coast  is  this  ? 

2  Sail.  We  are  near  Tharsus. 

Per.  Thither,  gentle  mariner, 
Alter  thy  course  for  Tyre9.     When   canst  thou 
reach  it? 

2  Sail.  By  break  of-  day,  if  the  wind  cease. 

Per.  O  make  for  Tharsus. 
There  will  I  visit  Cleon,  for  the  babe 
Cannot  hold  out  to  Tyrus ;  there  I'll  leave  it 
At  careful  nursing.    Go  thy  ways,  good  mariner ; 
I'll  bring  the  body  presently.  [Exeunt. 

Ephesus.     A  Room  in  Cerimon's  House. 

Enter  Cerimon,  a  Servant,  and  some  Persons  who 

have  been  shipwrecked. 

Cer.  Philemon,  ho ! 

Enter  Philemon. 

Phil.  Doth  my  lord  call  ? 

Cer.  Get  fire  and  meat  for  these  poor  men; 
It  has  been  a  turbulent  and  stormy  night. 

Serv.  I  have  been  in  many ;  but  such  a  night  as 
Till  now  I  ne'er  endur'd. 

Cer.  Your. master  will  be  dead  ere  you  return; 
There's  nothing  can  be  minister'd  to  nature, 

9  'Change  thy  course,  which  is  now /or  Tyre,  vand  go  to 

VOL,  IX.  E  E 


That  can  recover  him.    Give  this  to  the  'potheeary, 
And  tell  him  how  it  works l.         [To  Philemon, 
[Exeunt  Philemon,  Servant,  and  those  who 
had  been  shipwrecked. 

Enter  Two  Gentlemen. 

1  Gent.  Good  morrow,  sir. 

2  Gent.  Good  morrow  to  your  lordship. 

Cer.  Gentlemen, 

Why  do  you  stir  so  early  ? 

1  Gent.  Sir, 

Our  lodgings,  standing  bleak  upon  the  sea, 
Shook,  as  the  earth  did  quake ; 
The  very  principals2  did  seem  to  rend, 
^nd  all  to  topple3 ;  pure  surprise  and  fear 
Made  me  to  quit  the  house. 

2  Gent.  That  is  the  cause  we  trouble  you  so  early ; 
Tis  not  our  husbandry*. 

Cer.  O,  you  say  well. 

1  Gent.  But  I  much  marvel  that  your  lordship, 

1  The  precedent  words  show  that  the  physic  cannot  be  de- 
signed for  the  master  of  the  servant  here  in  trod  need.  Perhaps 
the  circumstance  was  introduced  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
mark  more  strongly  the  extensive  benevolence  of  Cerimon.  It 
conld  not  be  meant  for  the  poor  men  who  hare  just  left  the 
stage,  to  whom  be  has  ordered  kitchen  physic  k. 

9  The  principal*  are  the  strongest  rafters  in  the  reof  ef  a  build- 

3  AUto  is  a  common  augmentative  in  old  language.   The  word 

topple,  which  means  tumble,  is  used  again  in  Macbeth  : — 
'  Though  castles  topple  on  their  warders'  beads.' 

4  Husbandry  here  signifies  economical  prudence.  So  in  Ham- 
let, Act  i.  Sc.  3 : — 

' borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry* 

And  in  King  Henry  V. : — 

'  For  our  had  neighbours  make  us  early  stirrers, 
Which  is  both  healthful  and  good  husbandry.* 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  315 

Rich  tire  5  about  you,  should  at  these  early  hours 

Shake  off  the  golden  slumber  of  repose. 

It  is  most  strange, 

Nature  should  be  so  conversant  with  pain, 

Being  thereto  not  compell'd. 

Cer.  I  held  it  ever, 

Virtue  and  cunning6  were  endowments  greater 
Than  nobleness  and  riches ;  careless  heirs 
May  the  two  latter  darken  and  expend ; 
But  immortality  attends  the  former, 
Making  a  man  a  god.     Tis  known,  I  ever 
Have  studied  physick,  through  which  secret  art, 
By  turning  o'er  authorities,  I  have 
(Together  with  my  practice),  made  familiar 
To  me  and  to  my  aid,  the  blest  infusions 
That  dwell  in  vegetives,  in  metals,  stones; 
And  I  can  speak  of  the  disturbances 
That  nature  works,  and  of  her  cures ;  which  give  me 
A  more  content  in  course  of  true  delight 
Than  to  be  thirsty  after  tottering  honour, 
Or  tie  my  treasure  up  in  silken  bags, 
To  please  the  fool  and  death7. 

5  The  gentlemen  rose  early  because  thej  were  in  lodgings, 
which  stood  exposed  near  the  sea.  They  wonder  to  find  Lord  Ceri- 
taon  stirring,  because  he  had  rick  tire  about  him,  meaning  perhaps 
a  bed  more  richly  and  comfortably  furnished,  where  he  could  have 
slept  warm  and  secure  in  defiance  of  the  tempest.  Steepens 
thinks  that  the  reasoning  of  these  gentlemen  should  hare  led 
them  rather  to  say,  '  such  towers  about  you/  i.  e.  a  house  or 
oastle  that  oould  safely  resist  the  assaults  of  the  weather. 

6  i.  e.  knowledge. 

7  Mr.  Steevens  had  seen  an  old  Flemish  print  in  which  Death 
was  exhibited  in  the  act  of  plundering  a  miser  of  his  bags, 
and  the  Fool  (discriminated  by  his  bauble,  ccc.)  was  stand- 
ing behind  and  grinning  at  the  process.  The  Dance  of  Death 
appears  to  have  been  anciently  a  popular  exhibition.  A  vene- 
rable and  aged  clergyman  informed  Mr.  Steevens  that  he  had 
once  been  a  spectator  of  it.  The  dance  consisted  of  Death's 
contrivances  to  surprise  the  Merry  Andrew,  and  of  the  Merrq 


2  Gent.  Your  honour  has  through  Ephesus  ppur'd . 
Your  charity,  and  hundreds  call  themselves 
Your  creatures,  who  by  you  have  been  restor'd: 
And  not  your  knowledge,  personal  pain,  but  even 
Your  purse,  still  open,  hath  built  Lord  Cerimon 
Such  strong  renown  as  time  shall  never 

^^^  _  * 

Enter  Two  Servants  with  a  Chest. 

Serv.  So ;  lift  there. 

Cer.  What  is  that? 

Serv.  Sir,  even  now 

Did  the  sea  toss  upon  our  shore  this  chest ; 
Tis  of  some  wreck. 

Cer.  Set  't  down,  let's  look  on  it 

2  Gent.  'Tis  like  a  coffin,  sir. 

Cer.  Whate'er  it  be, 

Tis  wondrous  heavy.     Wrench  it  open  straight; 
If  the  sea's  stomach  be  o'ercharg'd  with  gold, 
It  is  a  good  constraint  of  fortune,  that 
It  belches  upon  us. 

2  Gent.  *Tis  so,  my  lord. 

Cer.  How  close  'tis  caulk'd  and  bitum'd ! — 
Did  the  sea  cast  it  up  ? 

Andrew's  efforts  to  elude  the  stratagems  of  Death,  by  whom  at 
last  he  was  overpowered ;  bis  finale  being  attended  with  such 
circumstances  as  mark  the  exit  of  the  Dragon  of  Wantley.  It 
should  seem  that  the  general  idea  of  this  serio-comic  pas-de-deux 
had  been  borrowed  from  the  ancient  Dance  of  Machabre,  com- 
monly called  the  Dance  of  Death,  which  appears  to  have  beei 
anciently  acted  in  churches  like  the  Moralities.  The  subject 
was  a  frequent  ornament  of  cloisters  both  here  and  abroad.  The 
reader  will  remember  the.  beautiful  series  of  wood  cuts  of  the 
Dance  of  Death,  attributed  (though  erroneously)  to.  Holbein. 
Mr.  Douce  is  in  possession  of  an  exquisite  set  of  initial  letters, 
representing  the  same  subject;  in  one  of  which  the  Fool  is 
engaged  in  a  very  stout  combat  with  his  adversary,  and  is  actu- 
ally buffeting  him  with  a  bladder  filled  with  peas  or  pebbles, 
an  instrument  used  by  modern  merry  Andrews. 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  317 

Serv.  I  never  saw  so  huge  a  billow,  sir, 
As  toss'd  it  upon  shore. 

Cer.  Come,  wrench  it  open ; 

Soft,  soft ! — it  smells  most  sweetly  in  my  sense. 

2  Gent.  A  delicate  odour. 

Cer.  As  ever  hit  my  nostril ;  so, — up  with  k. 
O  you  most  potent  god !  what's  here?  a  corse ! 

1  Gent.  Most  strange ! 

Cer.  Shrouded  in  cloth  of  state ;  balm'd  and  en- 
With  bags  of  spices  full !  A  passport  too ! 
Apollo,  perfect  me  i'the  characters! 

[  Unfolds  a  Scroll. 

Here  I  give  to  understand  [Reads. 

(If  Ver  this  coffin  drive  a-land8), 

I,  king  Pericles,  have  lost 

This  queen,  worth  all  our  mundane  cost. 

Who  finds  her,  give  her  burying, 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  king : 

Besides  this  treasure  for  a  fee, 

The  gods  requite  his  charity! 

If  thou  liv'st,  Pericles,  thou  hast  a  heart 

That  even  cracks  for  woe !— This  chanc'd  to-night. 

2  Gent.  Most  likely,  sir. 

Cer.  Nay,  certainly  to-night; 

For  look,  how  fresh  she  looks! — They  were  too 

That  threw  her  in  the  sea.     Make  fire  within ; 
Fetch  hither  all  the  boxes  in  my  closet 
Death  may  usurp  on  nature  many  hours, 
And  yet  the  lire  of  life  kindle  again 

8  Id  Twine's  translation  of  the  story  of  Apollonius  of  Tyre 
this  uncommon  phrase,  a-land,  is  repeatedly  used.  la  that  ver- 
sion it  is  to  Cerimon's  pupil,  Machaon,  and  not  to  Cerimon  him- 
self, that  the  lady  is  indebted  for  her  recover  j. 



The  overpressed  spirits.     I  have,  heard 
Of  an  Egyptian,  had  nine  hours  lien  dead. 
By  good  appliance  was  recover'd. 

Enter  a  Servant,  with  Boxes,  Napkins,  and  Fire. 

Well  said,  well  said;  the  fire  and  the  cloths. — 

The  rough  and  woful  musick  that  we  have, 

Cause  it  to  sound,  'beseech  you.    - 

The  vial  once  more; — How  thou  stirr'st,thou  block?— 

The  musick  there. — I  pray  you,  give  her  air: — 


This  queen  will  live:  nature  awakes;  a  warmth 

Breathes  out  of  her;  she  hath  not  been  entranc'd 

Above  five  hours.     See,  how  she  'gins  to  blow 

Into  life's  flower  again ! 

1  Gent.  The  heavens,  sir, 

Through  you,  increase  our  wonder,  and  set  up 
Your  fame  for  ever. 

Cer.  She  is  alive ;  behold, 

Her  eyelids,  cases  to  those  heavenly  jewels 
Which  Pericles  hath  lost, 
Begin  to  part  their  fringes  of  bright  gold9; 
The  diamonds  of  a  most  praised  water 
Appear,  to  make  the  world  twice  rich.     O  live, 
And  make  us  weep  to  hear  your  fate,  fair  creature, 
Rare  as  you  seem  to  be !  [She  moves. 

Thai,  O  dear  Diana, 

Where  am  I?    Where's  my  lord?  What  world  is 

9  So  in  the  Tempest: — 

'  The  fringed  curtains  of  thine  eye  advance, 
And  say  what  thou  seest  yond  V 

10  This  is  from  the  Confessio  Amantis : — 

'  And  first  hir  eyen  up  she  caste, 
And  when  she  more  of  strength  caught, 
Her  armes  both  forth  she  straughte ; 
Held  up  hir  honde  and  piteouslie 
She  spake,  and  said,  Where  am  I? 
Where  is  nwj  lord*'!  "WWt  world*  V&  \\a&1' 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  319 

2  Gent.  Is  not  this  strange? 

1  Gent.  Most  rare. 

Cer.  Hush,  gentle  neighbours ; 

Lend  me  your  hands :  to  the  next  chamber  bear  her. 
Get  linen;  now  this  matter  must  be  look'd  to, 
For  her  relapse  is  mortal.     Come,  come,  come ; 
And  iEsculapius  guide  us ! 

[Exeunt  carrying  Thais  A  away. 

Tharsus.     A  Room  in  Cleon's  Home. 

Enter  Pericles,  Cleon,  Dionyza,  Lychori- 

da,  and  Marina. 

Per.  Most  honour'd  Cleon,  I  must  needs  be  gone ; 
My  twelve  months  are  expired,  and  Tyrus  stands 
In  a  litigious  peace.     You,  and  your  lady, 
Take  from  my  heart  all  thankfulness !  The  gods 
Make  up  the  rest  upon  you ! 

Cle.  Your  shafts  of  fortune,  though  they  hurt  you 
Yet  glance  full  wand'ringly  on  us. 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

'  Your  shakes  of  fortune,  though  they  haunt  you  mortally, 
Yet  glance  full  wond'ringly,'  &c. 

The  folios  have  '  though  they  hate  you.'  The  emendation  is  by 
Steevens,  who  cites  the  following  illustrations :— '  Omnibus  telis 
fortuiuB  proposita  sit  vita  nostra.' — Cicero  Epist.  Fam, 

'  The  shot  of  accident  or  dart  of  chance.'  Othello. 

*  The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune*  Hamlet. 
*  I  am  glad,  though  you  have  taken  a  special  stand  to  strike  at 
me,  that  your  arrow  hath  glanced.* — Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 
The  sense  of  the  passage  seems  to  be,  all  the  malice  of  fortune 
is  not  confined  to  yourself,  though  her  arrows  strike  deeply  at 
you,  yet  wandering  from  their  mark,  they  sometimes  glance  on 
us;  as  at  present,  when  the  uncertain  state  of  Tyre  deprives  us 
of  your  company  at  Tharsus. 


Dion.  O  your  sweet  queen! 

That  the  strict  fates  had  pleas'd  you  had  brought  her 

To  have  bless'd  mine  eyes ! 

Per.  We  cannot  but  obey 

The  powers  above  us.     Could  I  rage  and  roar 
As  doth  the  sea  she  lies  in,  yet  the  end 
Must  be  as  'tis.     My  babe  Marina  (whom 
For  she  was  born  at  sea,  I  have  nam'd  so)  here 
I  charge  your  charity  withal,  and  leave  her 
The  infant  of  your  care ;  beseeching  you 
To  give  her  princely  training,  that  she  may  be 
Manner'd  as  she  is  born. 

Cle.  Fear  not,  my  lord,  but  think8 

Your  grace,  that  fed  my  country  with  your  corn 
(For  which  the  people's  prayers  still  fall  upon  you), 
Must  in  your  child  be  thought  on.     If  neglectkm 
Should  therein  make  me  vile,  the  common  body, 
By  you  relieved,  would  force  me  to  my  duty : 
But  if  to  that  my  nature  need  a  spar, 
The  gods  revenge  it  upon  me  and  mine, 
To  the  end  of  generation ! 

Per.  I  believe  you  5 

Your  honour  and  your  goodness  teach  me  credit3, 
Without  your  vows.    Till  she  be  married,  madam, 
By  bright  Diana,  whom  we  honour  all, 
Unscissar'd  shall  this  hair  of  mine  remain, 
Though  I  show  will4  in't.     So  I  take  my  leave. 

3  i.  e.  be  satisfied  that  we  oannot  forget  the  Benefits,  you  hare 
bestowed  on  as. 

3  The  old  copy  reads,  •  teach  me  to  it ;'  the  alteration  was 
made  by  Steevens. 

4  i.  e.  appear  wilful,  perverse  by  such  conduct.     The  old  copj 
reads  in  the  preceding  line : — 

'  Unsister'd  shall  this  heir  of  mine/  &c. 
The  corruption  is  obvious,  as  appears  from  a  subsequent  pas- 
sage : — 

'  This  ornament  that  makes  me, look  so  dismal 
"Will  I,  my  \oV&  ^vrvoifc,  clxfl  tojomj  fc». 

SC.  111.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  321 


Good  madam,  make  me  blessed  in  your  care. 
In  bringing  up  my  child. 

Dion.  I  have  one  myself, 

Who  shall  not  be  more  dear  to  my  respect, 
Than  yours,  my  lord. 

Per.  Madam,  my  thanks  and  prayers. 

Cle.  We'll  bring  your  grace  even  to  the  edge  o'the 
shore ; 
Then  give  you  up  to  the  mask'd  Neptune5;  and 
The  gentlest  winds  of  heaven. 

Per.  I  will  embrace 

Your  offer.    Come,  dear'st  madam. — O,  no  tears, 
Lychorida,  no  tears : 

Look  to  your  little  mistress,  on  whose  grace 
You  may  depend  hereafter. — Come,  my  lord. 


Ephesus.     A  Room  in  Cerimon's  House. 

Enter  Cerimon  and  Thais  a. 

Cer.  Madam,  this  letter,  and  some  certain  jewels, 
Lay  with  you  in  your  coffer :  which  are  how 
At  your  command.     Know  you  the  character? 

Thai.  It  is  my  lord's. 
That  I  was  shipp'd  at  sea,  I  well  remember, 
Even  on  my  eaning 1  time ;  but  whether  there 

*  i.  e.  Insidious  wares  that  wear  a  treacherous  smile. 
'  Subdola  quem  ridet  placidi  pellacia  ponti.' 

Lucret.  ii.  y.  559. 

1  The  quarto,  1619,  and  the  folio,  1664,  which  was  probably 
printed  from  it,  both  read  eaning.  The  first  quarto  reads  learn- 
ing. Steevens  asserts  that  eaning  is  a  term  only  applicable  to 
sheep  when  they  produce  their  young,  and  substituted '  yearning,' 
which  he  interprets  '  her  groaning  time/  But  it  should  be  ob- 
served that  to  ean  or  yean,  in  our  elder  language,  as  in  the 
Anglo  Saxon,  signified  to  bring  forth  young,  without  any  par- 
ticular reference  to  sheep.  I  have  therefore  preferred  the 
reading  in  the  text  to  Steevens's  conjecture. 


Delivered  or  no,  by  the  holy  gods, 

I  cannot  rightly  say :  But  since  Ki*g  Pericles, 

My  wedded  lord,  I  ne'er  shall  see  again, 

A  vestal  livery  will  I  take  me  to, 

And  never  more  have  joy. 

Cer.  Madam,  if  this  you  purpose  as  you  speak, 
Diana's  temple  is  not  distant  far, 
Where  you  may  'bide  until  your  date  expire2. 
Moreover,  if  you  please,  a  niece  of  mine 
Shall  there  attend  you. 

Thai.  My  recompense  is  thanks,  that's  all : 
Yet  my  good  will  is  great,  though  the  gift  small. 



Enter  Gower1. 

Gow.  Imagine  Pericles  arriv'd  at  Tyre, 
Welcom'd  and  settled  to  his  own  desire. 
His  woful  queen  leave  at  Ephesus, 
Unto  Diana  there  a  votaress. 
Now  to  Marina  bend  your  mind, 
Whom  our  fast  growing  scene  must  find2 

9  i.  e.  until  yon  die.     So  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: — 
*  The  date  is  out  of  such  prolixity.' 

Again,  in  the  same  play: —  . 

' and  expire  the  term 

Of  a  despised  life/ 

And  in  the  Rape  of  Luorece  :— 

'  An  expired  date,  cancell'd  ere  well  begun.' 

1  This  chorus,  and  the  two  following  scenes,  in  the  old  edition* 
are  printed  as  part  of  the  third  act. 

2  The  same  expression  occurs  in  the  chorus  to  The  Winter's 

*         m.   your  patience  this  allowing, 

I  turn  my  glass,  and  give  my  scene  such  growing 

As  you  bad  &\e^VtaVKewu' 


At  Tharsus,  and  by  Cleon  trairi'd 

la  music k,  letters ;  who  hath  gain'd 

Of  education  all  the.  grace, 

Which  makes  her  both  the  heart  and  place  3 

Of  general  wonder.     But  alack ! 

That  monster  envy,  oft  the  wrack 

Of  earned  praise,  Marina's  life 

Seeks  to  take  off  by  treason's  knife. 

And  in  this  kind  bath  our  Cleon 

One  daughter,  and  a  wench  full  grown, 

Even  ripe  for  marriage  fight ;  this  maid 

Hight  Philoten :  and  it  is  said 

For  certain  in  our  story,  she 

Would  ever  with  Marina  be : 

Be't  when  she  weav'd  the  sleided4  silk 

With  fingers  long,  small,  white  as,  milk ; 

Or  when  she  would  with  sharp  neeld5  wound 

The  cambrick,  which  she  made  more  sound 

By  hurting  it ;  or  when  to  the  lute 

She  sung,  and  made  the  night-bird  mute. 

That  still  records  6  with  moan ;  or  when 

She  would  with  rich  and  constant  pen 

3  The  old  copies  read : — 

'  Which  makes  high  both  the  art  and  place.' 
The  emendation  is  by  Steevens.     We  still  use  the  heart  of  oak 
for  the  central  part  of  it,  and  the  heart  of  the  land  in  much  such 
another  sense.  t  Place  here  signifies  residence.    So  in  A  Lover's 

'  Love  lack'd  a  dwelling,  and  made  him  her  place.' 

4  '  Sleided  silk'  is  nnwronght  silk,  prepared  for  weaving  by 
passing  it  through  the  weaver's  sley  or  recd-comb. 

9  The  old  copies  read  needle,  but  the  metre  shows  that  we 
should  read  meld.  The  word  is  thus  abbreviated  in  a  subse- 
quent passage  in  the  first  quarto.  See  King  John,  Aot  v.  8c.  2, 

6  To  record  anciently  signified  to  sine).    Thus  in  Sir  Philip 
Sydney'*  Omnia,  by  [Nicholas  Breton]  1606 : — 
'  Recording  songs  unto  the  Deitie.' 
The;  word  is-  still  used  by  bird  fanciers.    See  vol.  i.  p.  172, 
note  1. 

324  "PERICLES,  ACT  IV. 

Vail7  to  her  mistress  Dian;  still 
This  Philoten  contends  in  skill 
With  absolute8  Marina:  so 
With  the  dove  of  Paphos  might  the  crow 
Vie  feathers  white9.     Marina  gets 
All  praises,  which  are  paid  as  debts, 
And  not  as  given.     This  so  darks 
In  Philoten  all  graceful  marks, 
That  Cleon's  wife,  with  envy  rare, 
A  present  murderer  does  prepare 
For  good  Marina,  that  her  daughter 
Might  stand  peerless  by  this  slaughter. 
The  sooner  her  vile  thoughts  to  stead, 
Lychorida,  our  nurse,  is  dead; 
And  cursed  Dionyza  hath 
The  pregnant10  instrument  of  wrath 
'   Frest  for  this  blow.     The  unborn  event 

I  do  commend  to  your  content11 : 
Only  I  carry  winged  time 

Post  on  the  lame  feet  of  my  rhyme; 

Which  never  could  I  so  convey, 

Unless  your  thoughts  went  on  my  way. — 

Dionyza  does  appear, 

With  Leonine,  a  murderer.  [Exit 

7  Vail  is  probably  a  misprint.     Steevens  suggests  that' we 
should  read  '  Hail.'     Malone  proposes  to  substitute  '  toaiV 

8  i.  e.  highly  accomplished,  perfect.     So   in    Antony  and 
Cleopatra  :— 

' at  sea 

He  is  an  absolute  master.' 
And  in  Green's  Tu  Quoque : — '  From  an  absolute  and  most  com- 
plete gentleman,  to  a  most  absurd,  riduculous,  and  fond  lover.' 

9  See  vol.  iii.  p.  386,  note  19. 

10  Pregnant  in  this  instance  means  apt,  quick.     Prest  is  ready. 

II  '  I  do  commend  to  your  content.' 

Steevens  conjectures  that  the  poet  wrote  consent  instead  of  con- 
tent: but  observes  that  perhaps  the  passage  as  it  stands  may 
mean  '  I  wish  you  to  find  content  in  that  portion  of  our  play 
which  has  not  yet  been  exhibited.' 



Tharsus.     An  open  Place  near  the  Seashore. 
Enter  Dionyza  and  Leonine. 

Dion.Thy  oath  remember ;  thou  hast  sworn  to  do  it ; 
Tis  but  a  blow,  which  never  shall  be  known. 
Thou  canst  not  do  a  thing  i'the  world  so  soon, 
To  yield  thee  so  much  profit.    Let  not  conscience,  * 
vVhich  is  but  cold,  inflaming  love,  thy  bosom 
Inflame  too  nicely1;  nor  let  pity,  which 
Even  women  have  cast  off,  melt  thee,  but  be 
A.  soldier  to  thy  purpose. 

Leon.  I'll  do't;  but  yet  she  is  a  goodly  creature. 

Dion.  The  fitter  then  the  gods  should  have  her. 
keeping  she  comes  for  her  old  nurse's  death2. 
Hiou  art  resolv'd  ? 

Leon.  I  am  resolv'd. 

1  The  first  quarto  reads : — 

' Let  not  conscience, 

Which  is  bat  cold,  inflaming  thy  love  bo  some, 
Enflame  too  nicelie,  nor  let  pitie,'  &c. 
Walone  reads : — 

'  ■  Let  not  conscience, 

Which  is  but  cold,  inflame  love  in  thy  bosom, 
Inflame  too  nicely,  nor  let  pity,'  &c. 
Steevens  proposed  to  omit  the  words  '  Inflame  too  nicely/  and 
:  which  even/  adding  the  pronoun  that,  in  the  following  man- 
ner : — 

' '  Let  not  conscience, 

Which  is  but  cold,  inflame  love  in  thy  bosom ; 
Nor  let  that  pity  women  have  cast  off 
Melt  thee,  but  be  a  soldier  to  thy  purpose/ 
The  reading  I  have  given  is  sufficiently  intelligible,  and  deviates 
ess  from  the  old  copy.     Nicely  here  means  tenderly,  fondly. 
9  The  old  copy  reads : — 
*  Here  she  comes  weeping  for  her  onely  mistresse  death/ 
As  Marina  had  been  trained  in  music,  letters,  &c.  and  had  gained 
ill  the  graces  of  education,  Lycborida  could  not  have  been  her 
mly  mistress.    The  suggestion  and  emendation  are  Dr.  Percy's. 

VOL.  IX.  ¥  F 


Enter  Marina,  with  a  Basket  of  Flowers. 

Mar.  No,  no,  I  will  rob  Tellus  of  her  weed, 
To  strew  thy  green  3  with  flowers :  the  yellows,  blues, 
The  purple  violets,  and  marigolds, 
Shall,  as  a  chaplet,  hang  upon  thy  grave, 
While  summer  days  do  last4.     Ah  me !  poor  maid, 
Born  in  a  tempest,  when  my  mother  died, 
This  world  to  me  is  like  a  lasting  storm, 
Whirring6  me  from  my  friends. 

Dion.  How  now,  Marina !  why  do  you  keep  alone6 ! 

9  This  is  the  reading  of  the  quarto  copy  ;  the  folio  reads 
grave.     Weed,  in  old  language,  meant  garment. 

4  So  In  Cymbeline  :— 

«     with  fairest  Jtowers 

While  summer  lasts,  and  I  live  here,  Fidele, 
I'll  sweeten  thy  sad  grave/ 

The  o>d  copy  reads, '  Shall  as  a  carpet  hang/  &c.  the  emendation 

is  by  Steevens. 

5  Thus  the  earliest  copy.    The  second  quarto,  and  all  subse- 
quent  impressions,  read : — 

'  Hurrying  me  from  my  friends/ 
Whirring  or  whirrying  had  formerly  the  same  meaning,  a  bird 
that  flies  with  a  quiok  motion  is  still  said  to  whirr  away.    Tbe 
verb  to  whirry  is  used  in  the  ballad  of  Robin   Goodfellow, 
Reliqnes  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  vol.  ii.  p.  203 : — 
*  More  swift  than  winds  away  I  gp, 
O'er  hedge  and  lands, 
Thro'  pools  and  poods, 
I  whirry,  laughing  bo,  bo,  ho/ 
Whirring  is  often  used  by  Cbapmaa  in  bis  version  of  the  Iliad ; 
so  in  book  xvii : — 

' through  the  Greeks  and  Iliaas  they  rapt 

The  whirring  chariot.' 
The  two  last  lines  uttered  by  Marina,  very  strongly  resembles 
passage  in  Homer's  Iliad,  b.  x&.  1.  377  : — 

« r&£  tf  £k  WsXqvtccq  ocXXat 

Uovrov  \*>  ixOvosvra  4>IAON  AHANEYGE  *EPGYXIN/ 

6  So  in  Macbeth : — 

'  How  now,  my  lord !  why  do  you  keep  alone  V 
And  in  King  Henry  IV,  Part  H. : — 

'  How  chance  thou  art  not  with  the  prince  thy  brother  f 
Milton  employs  a  similar  form  of  words  in  Coinvs,  v.  508  >— 

*  How  cbono*  she  is  not  in  your  company  ?' 


SC.  I*  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  327 

How  chance  my  daughter  is  not  with  you?  Do  not 
Consume  your  blood  with  sorrowing7 :  you  have 
A  nurse  of  me.    Lord!  how  your  favour's8  chang'd 
With  this  unprofitable  woe !  Come,  come; 
Give  me  your  wreath  of  flowers.    Ere  the  sea  mar  it, 
Walk  forth  with  Leonine9 ;  the  air  is  quick  there, 
Piercing,  and  sharpens  well  the  stomach.    Come ; — 
Leonine,  take  her  by  the  arm,  walk  with  her. 

Mar.  No,  I  pray  you ; 
I'll  not  bereave  you  of  your  servant. 

Dion.  Come,  come ; 

X  love  the  king  your  father,  and  yourself, 
With  more  than  foreign  heart10.     We  every  day 
Expect  him  here :  when  he  shall  come,  and  find 
Our  paragon  to  all  reports  u,  thus  blasted, 
He  will  repent  the  breadth  of  his  great  voyage; 
Blame  both  my  lord  and  me,  that  we  have  ta'en 
No  care  to  your  best  courses.     Go,  I  pray  you, 
Walk,  and  be  cheerful  once  again;  reserve13 
That  excellent  complexion,  which  did  steal 
The  eyes  of  young  and  old.     Care  not  for  me ; 
I  can  go  home  alone. 

Mar.  Well,  I  will  go ; 

But  yet  I  have  no  desire  to  it. 

Dion,  Come,  come,  I  know  'tis  good  for  you, 

7  In  King  Henry  VI.  Part  II.  we  have  '  blood-consuming 
sighs.'    See  also  Hamlet,  Aot.  ir.  Sc.  7,  note. 

8  Countenance,  look. 

9  i.  e.  ere  the  tea  by  the  coming  in  of  the  tide  mar  jonr  walk. 

10  That  is,  with  the  same  warmth  of  affection  as  if  I  was  his 

11  Our  fair  charge,  whose  beauty  was  once  equal  to  all  that 
fame  said  of  it.    So  in  Othello  :— 

'  ■  He  hath  achieved  a  maid 

That  paragons  description  and  wild  fame? 
13  Reserve  has  here  the  foroe  of  preserve.     So  in  Shakspeare's 
thirty-second  sonnet : — 

'  Reserve  them  for  my  love,  not  for  their  rhymes.' 


Walk  half  an  hour,  Leonine,  at  the  least; 
Remember  what  1  have  said. 

Leon.  I  warrant  you,  madam. 

Dion.  1*11  leave  you,  my  sweet  lady,  for  a  while; 
Fray  you  walk  softly,  do  not  heat  your  blood : 
What !  I  must  have  a  care  of  you. 

Mar.  Thanks,  sweet  madam.— 

[Exit  DlONYZA. 
Is  this  wind  westerly  that  blows  ? 

Leon.  South-west 

Mar.  When  I  was  born,  the  wind  was  north. 

Leon.  Was't  so? 

Mar.  My  father,  as  nurse  said,  did  never  fear, 
But  cry'd,  Good  seamen!  to  the  sailors,  galling 
His  kingly  hands  with  hauling  of  the  ropes ; 
And,  clasping  to  the  mast,  endur'd  a  sea. 
That  almost  burst  the  deck. 

Leon.  When  was  this  ? 

Mar.  When  I  was  born : 
Never  was  waves  nor  wind  more  violent; 
And  from  the  ladder-tackle  washes  off 
A  canvass-climber13.     Ha!  says  one,  wilt  out? 
And  with  a  dropping  industry  they  skip    - 
From  stem  to  stern :  the  boatswain  whistles,  and 
The  master  calls,  and  trebles  their  confusion  u« 

Leon.  Come,  say  your  prayers. 

13  i.  e.  a  sailor,  one  who  climbs  the  mast  to  furl  or  unfurl  the 
canvass  or  sails. 

14  Mr.  Steevens  thus  regulates  and  reads  this  passage  :— 
'  That  almost  burst  the  deck,  and  from  the  ladder-tackle 
Wash'd  off  a  canvas-climber.    Ha !  say§  one, 

Wilt  out  ?  and,  with  a  dropping  industry 

They  skip  from  stem  to  stern :  the  boatswain  whistles, 

The  master  calls,  and  trebles  their  confusion. 

Leon.  And  when  was  this  ? 

Mar,  It  was  when  I  was  born : 

Never  was  waves  nor  wind  more  violent. 

Leon.  Come,  say  your  prayers  speedily.' 

SC.  1.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  82& 

Mar.  What  mean  you  ? 

Leon.  If  you  require  a  little  space  for  prayer, 
'.  grant  it :  Pray !  but  be  not  tedious, 
?or  the  gods  are  quick  of  ear,  and  I  am  sworn 
To  do  my  work  with  haste. 

Mar.  Why,  will  you  kill  me? 

Leon.  To  satisfy  my  lady. 

Mar.  Why  should  she  have  me  kill'd? 
^ow,  as  I  can  remember,  by  my  troth, 
i  never  did  her  hurt  in  all  my  life ; 
.  never  spake  bad  word,  nor  did  ill  turn 
?o  any  living  creature :  believe  me,  la, 
'.  never  kill'd  a  mouse,  nor  hurt  a  fly : 
:  trod  upon  a  worm  against  my  will, 
iut  I  wept  for  it.     How  have  I  offended, 
>¥  herein  my  death  might  yield  her  profit,  or 
My  life  imply  her  danger  ? 

Leon.  '  My  commission 

ls  not  to  reason  of  the  deed,  but  do  it. 

Mar.  You  will  not  do't  for  all  the  world,  I  hope, 
if  ou  are  well  favour'd,  and  your  looks  foreshow 
fou  have  a  gentle  heart.     I  saw  you  lately, 
tVhen  you  caught  hurt  in  parting  two  that  fought : 
xood  sooth,  it  show'd  well  in  you :  do  so  now : 
four  lady  seeks  my  life :  come  you  between, 
\.nd  save  poor  me,  the  weaker. 

Leon.  I  am  sworn, 

\ikd  will  despatch. 

Enter  Pirates,  whilst  Marina  it  struggling. 

1  Pirate.  Hold,  villain!    [Leonine runs  away* 

2  Pirate.  A  prize !  a  prize ! 

3  Pirate.  Half-part,  mates,  half-part.  Come,  let's 
ave  her  aboard  suddenly. 

[Exeunt  Pirates  with  Marina. 





SCENE  II.     The  same. 

Re-enter  Leonine. 

Leon.  These  roving1  thieves  serve  the  great  pirate 
And  they  have  seiz'd  Marina.     Let  her  go  : 
There's  no  hope  she'll  return.    I'll  swear  she's  dead, 
And  thrown  into  the  sea. — But  I'll  see  further; 
Perhaps  they  will  but  please  themselves  upon  her, 
Not  carry  her  aboard.     If  she  remain, 
Whom  they  have  ravish'd,  must  by  me  be  slain. [Exit. 

SCENE  III.     Mitylene.     A  Room  in  a  Brothel 

Enter  Pander,  Bawd,  and  Boult. 

Pand.  Boult. 

Boult.  Sir.  i 

Pand.  Search  the  market  narrowly ;  Mitylene  is 
full  of  gallants.  We  lost  too  much  money  this  mart, 
by  being  too  wenchless. 

Bawd.  We  were  never  so  much  out  of  creatures. 
We  have  but  poor  three,  and  they  can  do  no  more 
than  they  can  do ;  and  with  continual  action  are  even 
as  good  as  rotten. 

Pand.  Therefore  let's  have  fresh  ones,  whate'er 
we  pay  for  them.  If  there  be  not  a  conscience  to 
be  us'd  in  every  trade,  we  shall  never  prosper. 

1  Old  copj  reads  *  rogving  thieves.* 

3  The  Spanish  armada  perhaps  famished  this  name.  Don  Pe- 
dro de  Valdes  was  an  admiral  in  that  fleet,  and  had  the  command 
ofthe  great  galleon  of  Andalusia.  His  ship  being  disabled,  he 
was  taken  by  Sir  Francis  Drake  on  the  22d  of  July,  1588,  and 
sent  to  Dartmouth.  This  play  was  not  written,  we  may  con- 
clude, till  after  that  period.  The  making  one  of  this  Spaniard's 
ancestors  a  pirate  was  probably  relished  by  the  audience  in 
those  days.  There  is  a  particular  account  of  this  Valdes  » 
Robert  Greene's  Spanish  Masqnerado,  1589.  He  was  the* 
prisoner  in  England. 


SC.  III.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  331 

Bawd.  Thou  say'st  true:  'tis  not  the  bringing  up 
of  poor  bastards,  as  I  think  I  have  brought  up  some 

Boult.  Ay,  to  eleven,  and  brought  them  down 
again1.     But  shall  I  search  the  market? 

Bawd.  What  else,  man?  The  stuff  we  have,  a 
strong  wind  will  blow  it  to  pieces,  they  are  so  piti- 
fully sodden. 

Pand.  Thou  say'st  true;  they  are  too  unwhole- 
some o'conscience.  The  poor  Transilvanian  is  dead, 
that  lay  with  the  little  baggage. 

Boult.  Ay,  she  quickly  pooped  him ;  she  made 
him  roast  meat  for  worms : — but  I'll  go  search  the 
market.  [Exit  Boult. 

Pand.  Three  or  four  thousand  chequins  were  as 
pretty  a  proportion  to  live  quietly,  and  so  give  over. 

Bawd.  Why,  to  give  over,  I  pray  you?  is  it  a 
shame  tp  get  when  we  are  old  ? 

Pand.  O,  our  credit  comes  not  in  like  the  com- 
modity; nor  the  commodity  wages  not  with  the 
danger2;  therefore,  if  in  our  youths  we  could  pick 
up  some  pretty  estate,  'twere  not  amiss  to  keep  our 
door  hatch'd 3.     Besides,  the  sore  terms  we  stand 

1  I  hare  brought  up  (i.  e.  educated),  says  the  bawd,  some 
eleven.  Yes,  answers  Boult,  to  eleven  (i.  e.  as  far  as  eleven 
j ears  of  age),' and  then  brought  them  down  again.  The  latter 
clause  of  the  sentence  requires  no  explanation.  In  the  play  of 
The  Wether,  by  John  Hey  wood,  4  to.  blk.  1.  Merry  Report 
says : — r 

'  Oft  tyme  is  sene  both  in  court  and  towne, 

Longe  be  women  a  bryngynge  up,  and  sone  brought  down.* 

3  i.  e.  is  not  equal  to  it.     So  in  Othello : — 

'  To  wake  and  wage  a  danger  profitless.' 
And  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  vol.  viii. : — 

' his  taunts  and  honours 

Wag'd  equal  with  him.' 

3  A  hatch  is  a  half  door,  sometimes  placed  within  a  sireet 
door,  preventing  access  farther  than  the  entry  of  a  house.  When 
the  top  of  a  hatch  was  guarded  by  a  row  of  spikes  no  yerarai 


upon  with  the  gods,  will  be  strong  with  us  for  giving 


Bawd.  Come,  other  sorts  offend  as  well  as  we. 
Pond.  As  well  as  we!  ay,  and  better  too;  we 

offend  worse.    Neither  is  our  profession  any  trade; 

it's  no  calling : — but  here  comes  Boult, 

Enter  the  Pirates,  and  Boult,  dragging  in 


Boult.  Come  your  ways.  [To  Marina.] — My 
masters,  you  say  she's  a  virgin  ? 

1  Pirate.  O,  sir,  we  doubt  it  not 

Boult.  Master,  I  have  gone  thorough4  for  this 
piece,  you  see :  if  you  like  her,  so ;  if  not,  I  have 
lost  my  earnest. 

Bawd.  Boult,  has  she  any  qualities  ? 

Boult.  She  has  a  good  face,  speaks  well,  and 
has  excellent  good  clothes ;  there's  no  further  ne- 
cessity of  qualities  can  make  her  be  refused. 

Bawd.  What's  her  price,  Boult? 

could  reach  over  and  undo  its  fastening,  which  was  alwajs 
within  side,  and  near  its  bottom.  This  domestic  portcullis  per- 
haps was  necessary  to  our  ancient  brothels.  Secured  within 
such  a  barrier,  Mr*.  Overdone  could  parley  with  her  easterners, 
refuse  admittance  to  the  shabby  visitor,  bargain  witfe  the  rieb 
gallant,  defy  the  beadle,  or  keep  the  constable  at  fcaj.  Fran 
-  haying  been  her  usual  defence,  the  hatch  became  the  unequivocal 
denotement  of  her  trade ;  for  though  the  h^tchtcitk  a  §■**  lop  was 
a  constant  attendant  on  batteries  in  great  families,  colleges,  &e. 
the  hatch  with  spikes  on  it  was  peculiar  to  early  beoses  of 
amorous  entertainment,  and  Mr.  Steerena  was  informed  that  tbe 
bagnios  of  Dublin  were  not  long  since  so  defended.  MaJooe 
exhibited  a  copy  of  a  wood  oat,  prefixed  to  an  old  pamphlet  en- 
titled Holland's  Leaguer,  4to.  1632,  in  which  is  a  representatioa 
of  a  celebrated  brothel,  on  the  Bank-side,  near  the  Globe  play- 
house, in  which  he  imagined  the  batch  was  delineated.  Steevens 
has  pleasantly  bantered  him  upon  it  Tbe  reader  may  see  tbe 
out  and  tbe  raillery  in  the  Tariorom  Shakspeare. 
4  i.  e.  bid  a  high  price  for  her. 

§C.  Ill,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  333 

Boult.  I  cannot  be  bated  one  doit  of  a  thousand 

Pand.  Well,  follow  me,  my  masters;  you  shall 
aye  your  money  presently.  Wife,  take  her  in ; 
istruct  her  what  she  has  to  do,  that  she  may  not  be 
aw5  in  her  entertainment. 

[Exeunt  Pander  and  Pirates. 

Bawd.  Boult,  take  you  the  marks  of  her;  the 
olour  of  her  hair,  complexion,  height,  age,  with 
warrant  of  her  virginity ;  and  cry,  He  that  will  give 
lost,  shall  have  her  first.  Such  a  maidenhead  were 
o  cheap  thing,  if  men  were  as  they  have  been, 
ret  this  done  as  I  command  you. 

Boult.  Performance  shall  follow.  [Exit  Boult. 

Mar.  Alack,  that  Leonine  was  so  slack,  so  slow ! 
He  should  have  struck,  not  spoke;)  or  that  these 

Not  enough  barbarous)  had  not  overboard 
"hrown  me,  to  seek  my  mother ! 

Bawd.  Why  lament  you,  pretty  one  ? 

Mar.  That  I  am  pretty. 

Bawd*  Come,  the  gods  have  done  their  part  in 

Mar.  I  accuse  them  not. 

Bawd.  You  are  lit  into  my  hands,  where  you  are 
ke  to  live. 

Mar.  The  more  my  fault, 
o  'scape  his  hands,  where  I  was  like  to  die. 

Bawd.  Ay,  and  you  shall  live  in  pleasure. 

Mar.  No. 

Bawd.  Yes,  indeed,  shall  you,  and  taste  gentle- 
len  of  all  fashions.  You  shall  fare  well;  you  shall 
ave  the  difference  of  all  complexions.  What !  do 
ou  stop  your  ears  ? 

5  i.  e*.  unripe,  unskilful.     So  in  Hamlet: — '  And  jet  but  rqm 
iither  in  respect  of  his  full  sail/ 


Mar.  Are  you  a  woman  ? 

Bawd.  What  would  you  have  me  be,  an  I  be  not 
a  woman?  %^ 

Mar.  An  honest  woman,  or  not  a  woman. 

Bawd.  Marry,  whip  thee,  gosling :  I  think  I  shall 
have  something  to  do  with  you.  Come,  you  are  a 
young  foolish  sapling,  and  must  be  bowed  as  I 
would  have  you. 

Mar.  The  gods  defend  me ! 

Bawd.  If  it  please  the  gods  to  defend  you  by 
men,  then  men  must  comfort  you,  men  must  feed 
you,  men  must  stir  you  up. — Boult's  returned. 

Enter  Boult. 

Now,  sir,  hast  thou  cried  her  through  the  market? 

Boult.  I  have  cried  her  almost  to  the  number  of 
her  hairs ;  I  have  drawn  her  picture  with  my  voice. 

Bawd.  And  I  pr'ythee  tell  me,  how  dost  thou 
find  the  inclination  of  the  people,  especially  of  the 
younger  sort? 

Boult.  'Faith,  they  listened  to  me,  as  they  would 
have  hearkened  to  their  father's  testament.  There 
was  a  Spaniard's  mouth  so  watered,  that  he  went  to 
bed  to  her  very  description. 

Bawd.  We  shall  have  him  here  to-morrow  with 
his  best  ruff  on. 

Boult.  To-night,  to-night.  But,  mistress,  do  you 
know  the  French  knight  that  cowers6  i'the  hams? 

Bawd.  Who  ?  Monsieur  Veroles  ? 

Boult.  Ay;  he  offered  to  cut  a  caper  at  the 
proclamation ;  but  he  made  a  groan  at  it,  and  swore 
he  would  see  her  to-morrow. 

*  To  cower  is  to  sink  or  crouch  down.    Thai  in  King  Henry 
VI,:—  . 

'  The  splitting  rocks  cow'rd  in  the  sinking  sands.' 
Again  in  Gammer  Gorton's  Needle : — 
1  The j  cower  so  o'er  the  coles,  their  eies  be  blear 'd  with  smoke.' 

SC.  Ill,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  835 

Bawd.  Well,  well;  as  for  him,  he  brought  his 
disease  hither :  here  he  does  but  repair  it7.  I  know, 
he  will  come  in  our  shadow,  to  scatter  his  crowns 
in  the  sun8. 

Boult*  Well,  if  we  had  of  every  nation  a  travel- 
ler, we  should  lodge  them  with  this  sign9* 

Bawd.  Pray  you,  come  hither  awhile.  You 
have  fortunes  coming  upon  you,  Mark  me;  yon 
must  seem  to  do  that  fearfully,  which  you  commit 
willingly;  to  despise  profit,  where  you  have  most 
gain.  To  weep  that  you  live  as  you  do,  makes 
pity  in  your  lovers :  Seldom,  but  that  pity  begets 
you  a  good  opinion,  and  that  opinion  a  mere10 

Mar.  I  understand  you  not 

Boult,  O,  take  her  home,  mistress,  take  her 
home:  these  blushes  of  hers  must  be  quenched 
with  some  present  practice. 

Bawd.  Thou  say'st  true,  ifaith,  so  they  must : 
for  your  bride  goes  to  that  with  shame,  which  is1 
her  way  to  go  with  warrant. 

Boult.  'Faith  some  do,  and  some  do  not.  But, 
mistress,  if  I  have  bargained  for  the  joint, — > — 

Bawd.  Thou  may'st  cut  a  morsel  off  the  spit. 

Boult.  I  may  so. 

T  i.  e.  renovate  it.     So  in  Cymbeline,  Act  i.  So.  2,  p.  11;— 
r  O  disloyal  thing ! 
Thoa  ghoald'st  repair  my  youth/ 
6  The  allusion  is  to  the  French  coin  tens  de  solexl,  crowns  of 
the  sun.    The  meaning  of  the  passage  is  merely  this,  That  the 
French  knight  will  seek  the  shade  of  their  house  to  scatter  his 
money  there/ 

9  *  If  a  traveller  from  every  part  of  the  globe  were  to  assem- 
ble in  Mitylene,  they  would  all  resort  to  this  house,  while  we 
baa  such  a  sign  to  it  as  this  virgin.'  A  similar  enlogy  is  pro- 
nounced on  Imogen  in  Cymbeline : — '  She's  a  good  sign ;  but  I 
have  seen  small  reflection  of  her  wit.' 

10  i.  e.  an  absolute,  a  certain  profit. 


Bawd.  Who  should  deny  it  ?  Come,  young  one, 
I  like  the  manner  of  your  garments  well. 

Boult.  Ay,  by  my  faith,  they  shall  not  be  changed 

Bawd.  Boult,  spend  thou  that  in  the  town :  re- 
port what  a  sojourner  we  have :  you'll  lose  nothing 
by  custom.  When  nature  framed  this  piece,  she 
meant  thee  a  good  turn;  therefore  say  what  a  pa- 
ragon she  is,  and  thou  hast  the  harvest  out  of  thine 
own  report. 

Boult.  I  warrant  you,  mistress,  thunder  shall 
not  so  awake  the  beds  of  eels11,  as  my  giving  out 
her  beauty  stir  up  the  lewdly-inclined.  I'll  bring 
home  some  to-night. 

Bawd.  Come  your  ways ;  follow  me. 

Mar.  If  fires  be  hot,  knives  sharp,  or  waters  deep. 
Untied  I  still  my  virgin  knot  will  keep. 
Diana,  aid  my  purpose ! 

Bawd.  What  have  we  to  do  with  Diana  ?  Pray 
you,  will  you  go  with  us  ?  [Exeunt. 


Tharsus.     A  Room  in  Cleon's  House. 

Enter  Cleon  and  Dionyza. 

Dion.  Why,  are  you  foolish  ?  Can  it  be  undone? 

Cle.  O  Dionyza,  such  a  piece  of  slaughter 
The  sun  and  moon  ne'er  look'd  upon ! 

Dion.  I  think 

You'll  turn  a  child  again. 

Cle.  Were  I  chief  lord  of  all  the  spacious  world, 

11  Thunder  is  supposed  to  have  the  effect  of  rousing  eels  from 
the  mud,  and  so  render  them  more  easy  to  take  in  stormy  wea- 
ther.    Marston  alludes  to  this  in  his  Satires: — 

'  They  are  nought  hat  eeles,  that  never  will  appeare 
Till  that  tempestuous  winds,  or  thunder,  teare* 
Their  slimy  beds.' 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  337 

I'd  give  it  to  undo  the  deed  K     O  lady/ 
Much  less  in  blood  than  virtue,  yet  a  princess   » 
To  equal  any  single  crown  o'the  earth, 
I' the  justice  of  compare!  O  villain  Leonine, 
Whom  thou  hast  poison'd  too ! 
If  thou  had'st  drunk  to  him,  it  had  been  a  kindness 
Becoming  well  thy  feat2 :  what  canst  thou  say, 
When  noble  Pericles  shall  demand  his  child? 
Dion.  That  she  is  dead.   Nurses  are  not  the  fates, 

To  foster  it,  nor  ever  to  preserve. 

She  died  at  night;  1*11  say  so.    Who  can  cross  it? 

Unless  you  play  the  impious  innocent3, 

And  for  an  honest  attribute,  cry  out, 

She  died  by  foul  play. 

Cle.  O,  go  to.     Weil,  well, 

Of  all  the  faults  beneath  the  heavens,  the  gods 

Do  like  this  worst. 

Dion.  Be  one  of  those,  that  think 

The  pretty  wrens  of  Tharsus  will  fly  hence, 

And  open  this  to  Pericles.     I  do  shame 

To  think  of  what  a  noble  strain  you  are, 

And  of  how  coward  a  spirit. 

Cle.  To  such  proceeding 

Who  ever  but  his  approbation  added, 

Though  not  his  pre-consent,  he  did  not  flow 

From  honourable  courses. 

Dion.  Be  it  so  then : 

1  So  in  Macbeth: — 'Wake  Duncan  with  this  knocking: — 
Ay,  'would,  thou  coaldst !'  In  Pericles,  as  in  Macbeth,  the  wife 
is  more  criminal  than  the  husband,  whose  repentance  follows 
immediately  on  the  morder. 

2  The  old  copy  reads  face.  The  emendation  is  Mason's. 
Feat  is  deed,  or  exploit. 

9  An  innocent  was  formerly  a  common  appellation  for  an  idiot. 
ibe  calls  him  an  impious  simpleton,  because  such  a  discovery 
wold  touch  the  life  of  one  of  his  own  family,  his  wife.     This 
s  the  ingenious  interpretation  of  Malone  j  but  I  incline  to  think 
vith  Mason  that  we  should  read, ' the  pious  innocent.' 

VOL.  IX.  G  G 

388  PERICLES,  ACT  \y. 

Yet  none  does  know,  bat  you,  how  she  came  dead, 
Nor  none  can  know,  Leonine  being  gone. 
She  did  distain4  my  child,  and  stoocj  between 
Her  and  her  fortunes :  None  would  look  on  her, 
But  cast  their  gazes  on  Marina's  face ; 
Whilst  ours  was  blurted5  at,  and  held  a  malkin6, 
Not  worth  the  time  of  day.  It  pierc'd  me  thorough; 
And  though  you  call  my  course  unnatural, 
You  not  your  child  well  loving,  yet  I  find, 
It  greets  me  *  as  an  enterprise  of  kindness, 
Perform'd  to  your  sole  daughter. 

Cle,  Heavens  forgive  it! 

Dion.  And  as  for  Pericles, 
What  should  be  say?  We  wept  after  her  hearse, 
And  even  yet  we  mourn ;  her  monument 

*  The  old  copy  reads,  *  She  did  disdain  my  child.'  Bat  Marin 
was  not  of  a  disdainful  temper.  Her  excellence  indeed  eclipsed  the 
meaner  qualities  of  her  companion,  i.  e.  in  the  language  of  the 
poet,  distained  them.  In  Tarquln  and  Lttcrece  we  meet  wita 
the  same  rerb  again: — 

*  Were  Tarquin  night  (as  he  is  bat  night's  child), 
The  silver-shining  qaeen  he  would  distain.' 

The  rerb  is  several  times  used  bj  Shakspeare  in  the  sense  otto 
ecUpse,  to  throw  into  the  shade ;  and  not  in  that  of  to  disgrace, 
as  Steevens  asserts*    See  vol.  viii.  p.  450,  note  3. 

The  same  cause  for  Dionyza's  hatred  to  Marina  is  also  alleged 
in  Twine's  translation : — 'The  people  beholding  the  beautle  and 
comlinesse  of  Tharsia,  said — Happy  is  the  father  that  hath 
Tharsia  to  bis  daughter;  but  her  companion  that  goeth  with 
her  is  foule  and  ill-favoured.  When  Dionisiades  heard  Tharsia 
commended,  and  her  owne  daughter,  Philomacia,  so  dispraised, 
she  re  tamed  home  wonderful  wrath,'  &o. 

*  This  contemptuous  expression  frequently  oeeurt  in  our  an- 
cient dramas.     So  in  King  Edward  III.  1596  :**- 

'  This  day  hath  set  derision  on  the  French, 
And  all  the  world  will  blurt  and  sooro  at  us*' 
'  A  coarse  we  nob,  not  worth  a  good  morrow. 
7  '  It  greets  me '  appears  to  mean  it  salutes  me,  or  is  grateful 
to  me.    So  in  King  Henry  VIII. : — 

•  'Would,  I  had  no  being,' 
If  this  salute  my  blood  a  jot.' 

SC.  IV.  PRINCB  OF  TYRE.  330 

[s  almost  fintsh'd,  and  her  epitaphs 
tn  glittering  golden  characters  express 
\  general  praise  to  her,  and  care  in  us 
\t  whose  expense  'tis  done. 

Cle.  Thou  art  like  the  harpy, 

Which,  to  betray,  doth  with  thine  angel's  face, 
Seize  with  thine  eagle's  talons8. 

JMon.  You  are  like  one,  that  superstitiously 
Doth  swear  to  the  gods,  that  winter  kills  the  flies9; 
But  yet  I  know  you'll  do  as  I  advise.        [Exeumt. 

Enter  GowEft,  before  the  Monument  of  Marina 

at  Tbarsus. 

Goto.  Thus  time  we  waste,  and  longest  leagues 
make  short; 
Sail  seas  in  cockles  *°,  have,  and  wish  but  for't ; 
Making11  (to  take  your  imagination), 
Prom  bourn  to  bourn,  region  to  region. 
By  you  being  pardon'd,  we  commit  no  crime 
To  use  one  language,  in  each  several  clime, 
Where  our  scenes  seem  to  live.    I  do  beseech  you, 
To  learn  of  me,  who  stand  i'the  gap  to  teach  you 
The  stages  of  our  story.     Pericles 

8  '  With  thine  angel's  face/  &o.  means  '  You  haying  an  an- 
gers face,  a  look  of  innocence,  have  at  the  same  time  an  eagle's 

9  This  passage  appears  to  mean,  '  You  are  so  affectedly  hu- 
mane, that  yon  would  appeal  to  heaven  against  the  cruelty  of 
winter  io  killing  the  flies.  Superstition  is  explained  by  John- 
sou,  *mqwhu*  beyond  need* — BosvwU. 

"  See  vol.  iv.  p.  216,  note  3. 

11  So  in  a  former  passage : — '  O  make  for  Tharsus.'  Making, 
&c.  is  travelling  (with  the  hope  of  engaging  your  attention)  from 
one  division  or  boundary  of  the  world  to  another ;  i.  e.  we  hope 
to  interest  you  by  the  variety  of  our  scene,  and  the  different 
countries  through  which  we  pursne  onr  story. — We  still  use  a 
phrase  exactly  corresponding  with  take  your  imagination;  i.e. 
•  to  take  one's  fancy,1 


Is  now  again  thwarting  the  wayward  seas 12 

(Attended  on  by  many  a  lord  and  knight), 

To  see  his  daughter,  all  his  life's  delight. 

Old  Escanes,  whom  Helicanus  late13 

Advanced  in  time  to  great  and  high  estate, 

Is  left  to  govern.     Bear  you  it  in  mind, 

Old  Helicanus  goes  along  behind.  I 

Well  sailing  ships,   and  bounteous   winds,  have 

This  king  to  Tharsus  (think  this  pilot-thought14; 
So  with  his  steerage  shall  your  thoughts  grow  on), 
To  fetch  his  daughter  home,  who  first  is  gone15. 
Like  motes  and  shadows  see  them  move  awhile; 


Your  ears  unto  your  eyes  I'll  reconcile. 

Dumb  Show. 
Enter  at  one  door,  Pericles,  with  his  Train; 
Cleon  and  Dionyza  at  the  other.  Cleon 
shows  Pericles  the  Tomb  of  Marina;  where- 
at Pericles  makes  lamentation,  puts  on  Sack- 
cloth, and  in  a  mighty  passion  departs.  Then 
Cleon  and  Dionyza  retire. 

Gow.  See  how  belief  may  suffer  by  foul  show! 
This  borrow'd  passion  stands  for  true  old  woe16; 

12  So  in  King  Henry  V.:— 

' and  there  being  seen, 

Heave  him  away  upon  jour  winged  thoughts 
Athwart  the  seas.' 

13  These  lines  are  strangely  misplaced  in  the  old  copy.  The 
transposition  and  corrections  are  by  Steevens. 

14  This  is  the  reading  of  the  old  copy,  which  Malone  altered 
to  '  his  pilot  thought.'  1  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  the  change. 
The  passage  as  it  is  will  bear  the  interpretation  given  to  the 
correction:  — '  Let  yonr  imagination  steer  with  him,  be  his 
pilot,  and,  by  accompanying  him  in  his  voyage,  think  this  plot- 

15  Who  has  left  Tharsus  before  her  father's  arrival  there. 

16  i.  e.  for  snch  tears  as  were  shed  when  the  world  being  in 
its  infancy,  dissimulation  was  unknown.  Perhaps,  however,  we 
ought  to  read,  *  tiue  told  v»o«.' 

SC.  IV.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  341 

Lnd  Pericles,  in  sorrow  all  devoured, 

Vith  sighs  shot  through,  and  biggest  tears  o'er- 

weaves  Tharsus,  and  again  embarks.     He  swears 
"fever  to  wash  his  face,  nor  cat  his  hairs ; 
le  puts  on  sackcloth,  and  to  sea.     He  bears 
\.  tempest,  which  his  mortal  Teasel17  tears, 
Vftd  yet  he  rides  it  out.     Now  please  you  wit10 
The  epitaph  is  for  Marina  writ 
3y  wicked  Dionyza. 

[Reads  the  Inscription  on  Marina's  Mo- 
The  fairest,  sweet st 19,  and  best,  lies  here, 
Who  wither* d  in  her  spring  of  year. 
$he  was  of  Tyrus,  the  king's  daughter, 
On  whom  foul  death  hath  made  this  slaughter; 
Marina  was  she  caJfd;  and  at  her  birth, 
Thetis90,  being  proud,  swallow' d  some  part  o' the  earth: 

"  So  in  King  Richard  III.  s— 

'  O,  then  began  the  tempest  of  my  soul.' 
What  is  here  called  his  mortal  vessel  (i.  e,  his  body)  U  styled 
>y  Cleopatra  her  mortal  house* 
18  '  Now  be  pleased  to  know.'     Sq  in  Grower  :— 
*  In  which  the  lorde  hath  to  him  writte, 
That  he  would  understand©  aid  witte.' 

18  Sweefst  moat  be  read  here  as  a  monosyllable,  as  highest  in 
The  Tempest:—'  Highest  queen  of  state,'  &c.  Steeveas  ob- 
serves that  we  might  more  elegantly  read,  omitting  the  conjunc- 
lion  and — 

'  The  fairest,  sweetest,  best,  lies  here/ 

30  The  inscription  alludes  to  the  violent  storm  which  aocora- 
panied  the  birth  of  Marina;  at  which  time  the  sea,  proudly 
>rers welling  its  bounds,  swallowed,  as  is  usual  in  such  hurri- 
canes, some  part  of  the  earth.  The  poet  ascribed  the  swelling 
[>f  the  sea  to  the  pride  which  Thetis  felt  at  the  birth  of  Marina 
n  her  element j  and  supposes  that  the  earth,  being  afraid  to  be 
)verflowed,  bestowed  this  birth-child  of  Thetis  on  the  heavens ; 
rod  that  Thetis,  in  revenge,  makes  waging  battery  against  the 
shores. — Mason. 



Therefore  the  earth,  fearing  to  be  o'erflow'd, 

Hath  Thetis  birth- child  on  the  heavens  bestow* d: 

Wherefore  she  does  (and  swears  she'll  never  stint*1), 

Make  raging  battery  upon  shores  of  flint. 

No  visor  does  become  black  villany, 

So  well  as  soft  and  tender  flattery. 

Let  Pericles  believe  his  daughter's  dead, 

And  bear  his  courses  to  be  ordered 

By  lady  fortune ;  while  our  scenes  display 

His  daughter's  woe  and  heavy  well-a-day, 

In  her  unholy  service.     Patience  then, 

And  think  you  now  are  all  in  Mitylen.  [Exit. 

Mitylene.     A  Street  before  the  Brothel. 

Enter,  from  the  Brothel,  Two  Gentlemen. 

1  Gent.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like? 

2  Gent.  No,  nor  never  shall  do  in  such  a  place 
as  this,  she  being  once  gone. 

1  Gent.  But  to  have  divinity  preached  there!  did 
you  ever  dream  of  such  a  thing  ? 

2  Gent.  No,  no.     Come,  I  am  for  no  more  baw- 
dy-houses :  shall  we  go  hear  the  vestals  sing  ? 

1  Gent.  I'll  do  any  thing  now  that  is  virtuous; 
but  I  am  out  of  the  road  of  rutting,  for  ever. 


SCENE  VI.    The  same.    A  Room  in  the  Brothel 

Enter  Pander,  Bawd,  and  Boult. 

Pand.  Well,  I  had  rather  than  twice  the  worth 
of  her,  she  had  ne'er  come  here. 

Bawd.  Fye,  fye  upon  her :  she  is  able  to  freeze 

31  i.  e.  never  cease. 

SC.  VI.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  343 

the  god  Priapus,  and  undo  a  whole  generation. 
We  must  either  get  her  ravished,  or  he  rid  of  her. 
When  she  should  do  for  clients  her  fitment,  and  do 
me  the  kindness  of  our  profession,  she  has  me  her 
quirks,  her  reasons,  her  master-reasons,  her  prayers, 
her  knees;  that  she  would  make  a  puritan  of  the 
devil,  if  he  should  cheapen  a  kiss  of  her. 

Boult.  'Faith,  I  must  ravish  her,  or  she'll  dis- 
furnish  us  of  all  our  cavaliers,  and  make  all  our 
swearers  priests. 

Pand.  Now,  the  pox  upon  her  green-sickness 
for  me ! 

Bawd.  'Faith,  there's  no  way  to  he  rid  on't,  hut 
by  the  way  to  the  pox.  Here  comes  the  Lord  Lysi- 
machus,  disguised. 

Boult.  We  should  have  both  lord  and  lown,  if 
the  peevish  baggage  would  but  give  way  to  cus- 

Enter  Lysimachus. 

Lys.  How  now?  How1  a  dozen  of  virginities? 

Bawd.  Now,  the  gods  to-bless2  your  honour! 

Boult.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  honour  in  good 

Lys.  You  may  so;  'tis  the  better  for  you  that 
your  resorters  stand  upon  sound  legs.  How  now, 
wholesome  iniquity?  Have  you  that  a  man  may 
deal  withal,  and  defy  the  surgeon  ? 

Bawd.  We  have  here  one,  sir,  if  she  would 

but  there  never  came  her  like  in  Mitylene. 

Lys.  If  she'd  do  the  deeds  of  darkness,  thou 
would'st  say. 

1  This  is  Justice  Shallow's  mode  of  asking  the  price  of  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  commodity : — 

'  How  a  score  of  ewes  now  V 

3  The  nse  of  to  in  composition  with  verbs  is  very  common  in 
Gower  and  Chancer.     See  also  vol.  i.  p.  209,  note  7. 


Bawd.  Your  honour  knows  what  'tis  to  say  well 

Lys.  Well;  oall  forth,  call  forth. 

Boult.  For  flesh  and  blood,  sir,  white  and  red, 
you  shall  see  a  rose;  and  she  were  a  rose  indeed, 
if  she  had  but - 

Lys.  What,  pr'ythee? 

Boult.  O,  sir,  I  can  be  modest. 

Lys.  That  dignifies  the  renown  of  a  bawd,  no 
less  than  it  gives  a  good  report  to  an  anchor3  to  be 

Enter  BUjmna, 

Bawd.  Here  eonaes  that  whieh  grows  to  the 
stalk; — never  plucked  yet,  I  can  assure  you,  la 
she  not  a  fair  creature  ? 

Lys.  Taith,  she  would  serve  after  a  long  voyage 
at  sea.     Well,  there's  for  you ; — leave  us. 

Bawd.  I  beseech  your  honour,  give  me  leave :  a 
word,  and  I'll  have  done  presently. 

Lys.  I  beseech  you,  do. 

Bawd.  First,  I  would  haye  you  note,  this  is  an 
honourable  man.      [  To  Mar.  whom  she  takes  aside. 

Mar.  I  desire  to  find  him  so,  that  I  may  worthily 
'  note  him. 

Bawd.  Next,  he's  the  governor  of  this  country, 
and  a  man  whom  I  am  bound  to. 

3  The  old  copy,  which  both  Steevens  and  Majone  considered 
corrupt  in  this  place,  reads,  *  That  dignifies  the  renown  of  a 
bawd,  no  less  than  it  gives  good  report  to  a  number  to  be  chaste.1 
|  have  vestured  to  substitute  an  ancJwr,  i.  e.  A  HERMIT  or  an- 
choret. The  word  being  formerly  written  ancher,  anchor,  and 
even  anker,  it  is  evident  that  in  old  MSS.  it  might  readily  be 
mistaken  for  a  number.  The  word  is  used  by  the  Player  Queen 
in  Hamlet,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2: — 

*  An  anchor's  cheer  in  prison  be  ay  scope.' 
\\  w  evident  that  some  character  contrasted  to  bawd  is  repaired 
by  the  content. 

SC.  VI.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  345 

Mar.  If  he  govern  the  country,  you  are  bound  to 
im  indeed ;  but  how  honourable  he  is  in  that,  I 
now  not. 

Bawd.  'Pray  you,  without  any  more  virginal4 
*ncing,  will  you  use  him  kindly  ?  He  will  line  your 
pron  with  gold. 

Mar.  What  he  will  do  graciously,  I  will  thank- 
ally  receive. 

Lys.  Have  you  done  ? 

Bawd.  My  lord,  she's  not  paced5  yet;  you  must 
ike  some  pains  to  work  her  to  your  manage.  Come, 
re  will  leave  his  honour  and  her  together. 

[Exeunt  Bawd,  Pander,  and  Boult. 

Lys.  Go  thy  ways. — Now,  pretty  one,  how  long 
ave  you  been  at  this  trade  ? 

Mar.  What  trade,  sir? 

Lys.  What  I  cannot  name  but  I  shall  offend. 

Mar.  I  cannot  be  offended  with  my  trade.  Please 
ou  to  name  it. 

Lys.  How  long  have  you  been  of  this  profession  ? 

Mar.  Ever  since  I  can  remember. 

Lys.  Did  you  go  to  it  so  young?  Were  you  a 
;amester6  at  five,  or  at  seven  ? 

Mar.  Earlier  too,  sir,  if  now  I  be  one. 

Lys.  Why,  the  house  you  dwell  in,  proclaims 
fou  to  be  a  creature  of  sale. 

Mar.  Do  you  know  this  house  to  be  a  place  of 
iuch  resort,  and  will  come  into  it?  I  hear  say,  you 
ire  of  honourable  parts,  and  are  the  governor  of 
his  place. 

Lys.  Why,  hath  your  principal  made  known  unto 
rou  who  I  am? 

4  This  uncommon  adjective  is  again  used  in  Coriolanus  :— 

' the  virginal  palms  of  your  daughters.' 

5  A  term  from  the  equestrian  art ;  but  still  in  familiar  lan- 
guage applied  to  persons  chiefly  in  a  bad  sense  with  its  com- 
mand thorough-paced. 

0  i.  e.  a  wanton.    See  vol.  iii.  p.  330,  note  1\. 


Mar,  Who  is  my  principal? 

Zt/s.  Why,  your  herb-woman;  she  that  sets  seeds 
and  roots  of  shame  and  iniquity.  O,  you  have 
heard  something  of  my  power,  and  so  stand  aloof 
for  more  serious  wooing.  But  I  protest  to  thee, 
pretty  one,  my  authority  shall  not  see  thee,  or  ejse, 
look  friendly  upon  thee.  Come,  bring  me  to  some 
private  place.     Come,  come. 

Mar.  If  you  were  born  to  honour,  show  ft  now; 
If  put  upon  you,  make  the  judgment  good 
That  thought  you  worthy  of  it. 

Lys.  How's  this?  how's  this? — Some  more; — 
be  sageT. 

Mar,  For  me, 
That  am  a  maid,  though  most  ungentle  fortune 
Hath  plac'd  me  here  within  this  loathsome  stie, 
Where,  since  I  came,  diseases  have  been  sold 
Dearer  than  physick, — O  that  the  good  gods 
Would  set  me  free  from  this  unhallow'd  place, 
Though  they  did  change  me  to  the  meanest  bird 
That  flies  i'  the  purer  air ! 

Lys,  I  did  not  think 

Thou  could'st  have  spoke  so  well;  ne'er  dream'd 

thou  could'st. 
Had  I  brought  hither  a  oorrupted  mind, 
Thy  speech  had  alter'd  it.  Hold,  here's  gold  for  thee : 
Pers6ver  still  in  that  clear9  way  thou  goest, 
And  the  gods  strengthen  thee  I 

Mar*  The  gods  preserve  you  1 

7  Lysimachns  must  be  supposed  to  say  this  sneeringly — '  Pro- 
ceed with  your  fine  moral  discourse.' 

8  Clear  is  pure,  innocent.  Thus  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  :— 

' For  the  sake 

Of  clear  virginity,  be  advocate 
For  lis  and  our  distresses/ 
So  in  TbeJTempest: — 

'  — —  nothing  but  heart's  sorrow* 
And  %  clear  \\fo  «nvuni? 

9C.  VI.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE,  347 

Lys*  For  me,  be  you  thotighten 

rhat  I  come  with  no  ill  intent;  for  to  me 
The  very  doors  and  windows  savour  vilely. 
?arewell«    Thott  art  a  piece  of  virtue9,  and 
.  doubt  not  but  thy  training  hath  been  noble. — 
3Lold ;  here's  more  gold  for  thee. — 
K.  curse  Upon  him,  die  he  like  a  thief, 
rhat  robs  thee  of  thy  goodness !    If  thou  hear'st 

from  me, 
t  shall  be  for  thy  good. 

[As  Lysimachus  is  putting  up  his  Purse t 
Boult  enters. 

B&uU*  I  beseech  your  honour,  one  piece  for  me. 

Lys.  Avaunt,  thou  damned  door-keeper !    Your 
Jut  for  this  virgin  that  doth  prop  it  up, 
Vould  sink,  and  overwhelm  you  all.    Away  S 

[Exit  Lysimachus. 

Boult.  How's  this?  We  must  take  another  course 
pith  you.  If  your  peevish  chastity,  which  is  not 
rorth  a  breakfast  in  the  cheapest  country  under  the 
ope10,  shall  undo  a  whole  household,  let  me  be 
elded  like  a  spaniel.    Come  youf  ways. 

Mar.  Whither  would  you  have  me  ? 

Boult.  I  must  have  your  maidenhead  taken  off, 
r  the  common  hangman  shall  execute  it  Come 
our  way.  Well  have  no  more  gentlemen  driven 
Way.     Come  your  ways,  I  say. 

Re-enter  Bawd. 
Bawd.  How  now!  what's  the  matter? 

thy  mother  was 

A  piece  of  virtus.*  Tempest* 

j  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  alluding  to  Octavia: — 
'  Let  not  the  piece  of  virtue,  which  is  set 
Betwixt  us.' 
10  i.  e.  under  the  cope  or  canopy  of  heaven. 


Boult.  Worse  and  worse,  mistress ;  she  has  here 
spoken  holy  words  to  the  Lord  Lysimachus. 

Bawd.  O  abominable ! 

Boult.  She  makes  our  profession  as  it  were  to 
stink  afore  the  face  of  the  gods. 

Bawd.  Marry,  hang  her  up  for  ever ! 

Boult.  The  nobleman  would  have  dealt  with  her 
like  a  nobleman,  and  she  sent  him  away  as  cold  as 
a  s-owball;  saying  his  prayers  too. 

Bawd.  Boult,  take  her  away;  use  her  at  thy 
pleasure :  crack  the  glass  of  her  virginity,  and  make 
the  rest  malleable11. 

Boult.  An  if  she  were  a  thornier  piece  of  ground 
than  she  is,  she  shall  be  ploughed  ^. 

Mar.  Hark,  hark,  yon  gods ! 

Bawd.  She  conjures:  away  with  her.  'Would, 
she  had  never  come  within  my  doors !  Marry,  hang 
you!  She's  bora  to  undo  us.  Will  you  not  go  the 
way  of  womankind?  Marry  come  up,  my  dish  of 
chastity  with  rosemary  and  bays 13 !      [Exit  Bawd. 

Boult.  Come,  mistress ;  come  your  way  with  me. 

Mar.  Whither  would  you  have  me  ? 
'  Boult.  To  take  from  you  the  jewel  you  hold  so 

11  Ste evens  thinks  that  there  may  be  some  allusion  here  to  a 
fact  recorded  by  Dion  Cassias,  and  by  Pliny,  b.  xxxvi.  ch.  xxvi. ; 
bat  more  circumstantially  by- Petronius.  Var.  Edit.  p.  189.  A 
skilful  workman,  who  had  discovered  the  art  of  making  glass 
malleable,  carried  a  specimen  of  it  to  Tiberius,  who  asked  him 
if  he  alone  was  in  possession  of  the  secret.  He  replied  in  the 
affirmative ;  on  which  the  tyrant  ordered  his  head  to  be  struck 
off  immediately,  lest  his  invention  should  have  proved  injurious 
to  the  workers  in  gold,  silver,  and  other  metals.  The  same 
story,  however,  is  told  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  c.  44. 

13  Thus  also  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: — 

'  She  made  great  Caesar  lay  his  sword  to  bed, 
He  plough' d  her,  and  she  cropp'd.' 

13  Anciently  many  dishes  were  served  up  with  this  garniture, 
daring  the  season  of  Christmas.     The  Bawd  means  to  call  her 
a  piece  of  ostentatious  \iitae.  * 

SC.  VI.  PRINCE  OP  TYRE.  349 

Mar.  Pr'ythee,  tell  me  one  thing  first. 

Boult.  Come  now,  your  one  thing14. 

Mar.  What  canst  thou  wish  thine  enemy  to  be? 

Boult.  Why,  I  could  wish  him  to  be  my  master, 
r  rather,  my  mistress. 

Mar.  Neither  of  these  are  yet  so  bad  as  thou  art, 
ince  they  do  better  thee  in  their  command. 
Turn  hold'st  a  place,  for  which  the  pained'st  fiend 
)f  hell  would  not  in  reputation  change : 
Tiou'rt  the  damn'd  door-keeper  to  every  coystrel15! 
"hat  hither  comes  inquiring  for  his  tib ; 
\>  the  cholerick  fisting  of  each  rogue  thy  ear 
s  liable;  thy  very  food  is  such 
Ls  hath  been  belch'd  on  by  infected  lungs l6. 

Boult.  What  would  you  have  me?  go  to  the 
rare,  would  you  ?  where  a  man  may  serve  seven 
ears  for  the  loss  of  a  leg,  and  have  not  money 
nough  in  the  end  to  buy  him  a  wooden  one  ? 

Mar.  Do  any  thing  but  this  thou  doest.     Empty 
)ld  receptacles,  common  sewers,  of  filth ; 
>erve  by  indenture  to  the  common  hangman ; 
kny  of  these  ways  are  better  yet  than  this : 
<or  that  which  thou  professest,  a  baboon, 
2ould  he  speak,  would  own  a  name  too  dear17, 

14  So  in  King  Heaty  IV.  Part  II.:— 

'  P.  Hen.  Shall  I  tell  thee  one  thing,  Poins  ? 
Poins.  Go  to,  I  stand  the  push  of  jour  one  thing.' 

16  A  coystrel  is  a  low  mean  person.  See  vol.  i.  p.  303,  note  3. 
**©  was  a  common  name  for  a  strumpet. 

*  They  wondred  much  at  Tom,  bat  at  Tib  more ; 
Faith  (quoth  the  vicker)  'tis  an  exlent  w— .' 

Nosce  Te,  by  Richard  Turner,  1607. 

16  Steevens  observes  that  Marina,  who  is  designed  for  a  cha- 
icter  of- juvenile  innocence,  appears  much  too  knowing  in  the 
nparities  of  a  brothel ;  nor  are  her  expressions  more  chastised 
tan  her  ideas.    V 

17  That  is,  a  baboon  would  think  his  tribe  dishonoured  by 
uch  a  profession.     Jago  says, '  Ere  I  would  drown  myself,  &c. 

VOL.  IX.  H  H 


0  that  the  gods  would  safely  from  this  place 
Deliver  me !  Here,  here  is  gold  for  thee. 

If  that  thy  master  would  gain  aught  by  me,. 
Proclaim  that  I  can  sing,  weave,  sew,  and  dance, 
With  other  virtues,  which  I'll  keep  from  boast ; 
And  I  will  undertake  all  these  to  teach. 

1  doubt  not  but  this  populous  city  will 
Yield  many  scholars. 

Boult.  But  can  you  teach  all  this  you  speak  of? 

Mar.  Prove  that  I  cannot,  take  me  home  again, 
And  prostitute  me  to  the  basest  groom 
That  doth  frequent  your  house. 

Boult.  Well,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do  for  thee: 
if  I  can  place  thee,  I  will. 

Mar.  But,  amongst  honest  women  ? 

Boult.  'Faith,  my  acquaintance  lies  little  amongst 
them.  But  since  my  master  and  mistress  have 
bought  you,  there's  no  going  but  by  their  consent: 
therefore  I  will  make  them  acquainted  with  your 
purpose,  and  I  doubt  not  but  I  shall  find  them 
tractable  enough.  Come,  I'll  do  for  thee  what  I 
can;  come  your  ways.  [Exeunt. 

ACT  V. 

Ifoter  Oower. 

Gow.  Marina  thus  the  brothel  scapes,  and  chances 
Into  an  honest  house,  our  story  says. 
She  sings  like  one  immortal,  and  she  dances 
As  goddess-like  to  her  admired  lays : 

I  would  change  my  humanity  with  a  baboon.'  In  this  speech 
Steevens  has  made  some  trifling  regulations  to  improve  the 


)eep  clerks  she  dumbs1,  and  with  her  neeld2  com- 
Nature's  own  shape,  of  hud,  bird,  branch,  or  berry ; 
liat  even  her  art  sisters  the  natural  roses : 
ler  inkle  3  silk,  twin  with  the  rubied  cherry : 
7hat  pupils  lacks  she  none  of  noble  race, 
rVho  pour  their  bounty  on  her ;  and  her  gain 
>he  gives  the  cursed  bawd.    Here  we 'her  place; 
xnd  to  her  father  turn  our  thoughts  again, 
►Vhere  we  left  him,  on  the  sea.  We  there  him  lost; 
Whence  driven  before  the  winds,  he  is  arriv'd 
Here  where  his  daughter  dwells ;  and  on  this  coast 
Suppose  him  now  at  anchor.     The  city  striv'd4 
xod  Neptune's  annual  feast  to  keep : '  from  whence 
^ysimachus  our  Tyrian  ship  espies, 
lis  banners  sable,  trimm'd  with  rich  expense; 
Vnd  to  him  in  his  barge  with  fervour  hies. 

1  The  following  passage  from  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 
j  adduced  only  od  account  of  the  similarity  of  expression,  the 
eDtiments  being  very  different.     Theseus  confounds  those  who 
ddress  him,  by  his  superior  dignity ;  Marina  silences  the  learned 
persons,  with  whom  she  converses,  by  her  literary  superiority* 
'  "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  accents  in  their  fears, 
And  in  conclusion  dumbly  have  broke  off, 
Not  paying  me  a  welcome.' 
rVe  have  the  verb  to  dumb  again  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra : — 

' that  what  I  would  have  spoke 

Was  beastly  dumb  by  him.' 
fee  vol.  vii.  p.  405,  note  7. 
. s  Needle.     See  p.  323,  note  5,  [Act  iv.  Chorus]. 

3  Inkle  appears  to  have  been  a  particular  kind  of  silk  thread  or 
vorsted  used  in  embroidery.  The  reader  will  correct  the  note 
n  vol.  iv.  p.  81 ;  where  it  is  explained, '  a  kind  of  tape.'  Rider 
xanslates  inkle  by  filum  textile. 

4  Steevens  thinks  that  we  should  read,  <  The  city's  hiv'd,'  i.  e. 
he  eitizens  are  collected  like  bees  in  a  hive.  We  have  the  verb 
n  The  Merchant  of  Venice : — '  Drones  hive  not  with  me.' 

952  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

In  your  supposing  once  more  put  your  sight5; 
Of  heavy  Pericles  think  this  the  bark : 
Where,  what  is  done  in  action,  more,  if  might6, 
Shall  be  discovered ;  please  you,  sit,  and  hark. 



On  board  Pericles'  Ship,  off  Mitylene.  A  elm 
Pavilion  on  deck,  with  a  Curtain  before  it ;  Pe- 
ri cles  within  it,  reclined  on  a  Couch,  A  Barge 
lying  beside  the  Tyrian  Vessel. 

Enter  Two  Sailors,  one  belonging  to  the  Tyrian 
Vessel,  the  other  to  the  Barge;  to  them  Heli- 

Tyr.  Sail.  Where's  the  l^ord  Helicanus  ?  he  can 
resolve  you.         [To  the  Sailor  of  Mitylene. 

O  here  he  is. 

Sir,  there's  a  barge  put  off  from  Mitylene, 

And  in  it  is  Lysimachus  the  governor, 

Who  craves  to  come  aboard.     What  is  your  will? 

Hel.  That  he  have  his.   Call  up  some  gentlemen. 

Tyr.  Sail.  Ho,  gentlemen !  my  lord  calls. 

Enter  Two  Gentlemen. 

1  Gent.  Doth  your  lordship  call  ? 
Hel.  Gentlemen, 

*  '  Once  more  pat  your  sight  under  the  guidance  of  your  ima- 
gination. Suppose  you  see  what  we  cannot  exhibit  to  you; 
think  this  stage  the  bark  of  the  melancholy  Pericles.' 

6  *  Where  all  that  may  be  displayed  in  action  shall  be  exhi- 
bited ;  and  more  should  be  shown,  if  oar  stage  would  permit' 
The  poet  seems  to  be  aware  of  the  difficulty  of  representing  the 
ensuing  scene.  Some  modern  editions  read,  '  more  of  might;' 
which,  if  there  was  authority  for  it,  should  seem  to  mean '  more 
of  greater  conseqttence.' 

C.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  353 

iere  is  some  of  worth  would  come  aboard ;  I  pray 

.  greet  them  fairly. 

[The  Gentlemen  and  the  Two  Sailors  descend, 
and  go  on  board  the  Barge. 

fiter9JTom  thence  Lysimachus  and  Lords;  the 

Tyrian  Gentlemen,  and  the  Two  Sailors. 
Tyr.  Sail.  Sir, 

is  is  the  man  that  can,  in  aught  you  would, 
solve  you. 

Lys.  Hail,  reverend  sir !  the  gods  preserve  you ! 
Hel.  And  you,  sir,  to  outlive  the  age  I  am, 
d  die  as  I  would  do. 

Lys.  You  wish  me  well, 

ing  on  shore,  honouring  of  Neptune's  triumphs, 
ring  this  goodly  vessel  ride  before  us, 
lade  to  it,  to  know  of  whence  you  are. 
Hel.  First,  sir,  what  is  your  place? 
Lys.  I  am  governor  of  this  place  you  lie  before. 
lei.  Sir, 

r  vessel  is  of  Tyre,  in  it  the  king : 
nan,  who  for  this  three  months  hath  not  spoken 
any  one,  nor  taken  sustenance, 
b  to  prorogue 1  his  grief. 
Tjys.  Upon  what  ground  is  his  distemperature  ? 
leL  Sir,  it  would  be  too  tedious  to  repeat ; 
b  the  main  grief  of  all  springs  from  the  loss 
a  beloved  daughter  and  a  wife. 
\ys.  May  we  not  see  him,  then  ? 
lei.  "  You  may  indeed,  sir, 

;  bootless  is  your  sight;  he  will  not  speak 

To  lengthen  or  prolong  his  grief.    Prorogued  is  wed  in  < 

eo  and  Juliet  for  delayed: — 

'  Mj  life  were  better  ended  by  their  hate 
Than  death  prorogued  wanting  of  thy  love/ 

H  H$ 


954  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

Lys.      Yet,  let  me  obtain  my  wish. 

HeL  Behold  him,  sir:  [Pericles  discovered*.} 
this  was  a  goodly  person, 
Till  the  disaster,  that,  one  mortal  night3, 
Drove  him  to  this. 

Lys.  Sir,  king,  all  hail!  the  gods  preserve  you! 
Hail,  royal  sir! 

HeL  It  is  in  vain;  he  will  not  speak  to  you. 

1  Lord.  Sir,  we  have  a  maid  in  Mitylene,  I  durst 
Would  win  some  words  of  him4. 

Lys.  Tis  well  bethought. 

She,  questionless,  with  her  sweet  harmony 
And  other  choice  attractions,  would  allure, 
And  make  a  battery  through  his  deafen'd  parts5, 
Which  now  are  midway  stopp'd : 
She  is  all  happy  as  the  fairest  of  all, 
And,  with  her  fellow  maids,  is  now  upon6 

3  Few  of  the  stage-directions,  that  have  been  given  in  this 
and  the  preceding  acts,  are  found  in  the  old  copy.  In  the  ori- 
ginal representation  Pericles  was  probably  placed  in  the  hack 
part  of  the  stage,  concealed  by  a  curtain,  which  was  here  drawn 
open.  The  ancient  narratives  represented  him  as  remaining  in 
the  cabin  of  his  ship ;  bnt  as  in  such  a  situation  Pericles  woald 
not  be  visible  to  the  audience,  a  different  stage-direction  is  now 

3  The  old  copies  read, '  one  mortal  tvight.'  The  emendation 
is  Malone's.     Mortal  is  here  nsed  for  deadly,  destructive. 

4  This  circumstance  resembles  another  in  All's  Well  that 
Ends  Well,  where  Lafeu  gives  an  account  of  Helena's  attrac- 
tions to  the  king  before  she  is  introduced  to  attempt  his  cure. 

5  The  old  copy  reads, '  defend  parts.'  Malone  made  the  altera- 
tion, which  he  explains  thus:  i.e. 'his  ears,  which  are  to  be 
assailed  by  Marina's  melodious  voice.'  Steevens  would  read, 
'  deafen'd  ports/  meaning  the  oppilated  doors  of  hearing.* 

6  Steevens  prints  this  passage  in  the  following  manner;  cor- 
rected and  amended  so  as  to  run  smooth  no  doubt,  bot  with 
sufficient  licence : — 

'  She  aU  as  happy  as  of  all  the  fairest, 
Is  wilVi  Y\et  te\\ovi  mnwfeus  uw  within.' 
Difficulties  ha^e  been  taisd  itaroaN.  S>o\*  \i»k^  vk'-^.^udni 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  356 

The  leafy  shelter  that  abuts  against 
The  island's  side. 

[He  whispers  one  of  the  attendant  Lords. — 
Exit  Lord,  in  the  Barge  of  Lysimachus. 

Hel.  Sure  all's  effectless ;  yet  nothing  we'll  omit 
That  bears  recovery's  name.   But,  since  your  kind- 
We  have  stretch'd  thus  far,  let  us  beseech  you 

That  for  our  gold  we  may  provision  have. 
Wherein  we  are  not  destitute  for  want, 
But  weary  for  the  staleness. 

Lys.  O,  sir,  a  courtesy, 

Which  if  we  should  deny,  the  most  just  God 
For  every  graff  would  send  a  caterpillar, 
And  so  inflict  our  province7. — Yet  once  more 
Let  me  entreat  to  know  at  large  the  cause 
Of  your  king's  sorrow. 

Hel.  Sit,  sir,  I  will  recount  it; — ■ 

But  see,  I  am  prevented. 


Enter,  from  the  Barge8,  Lord,  Marina,  and  a 

Young  Lady. 

Lys.  O,  here  is 

The  lady  that  I  sent  for.     Welcome,  fair  one ! 
Is't  not  a  goodly  presence  ? 

bat  surely  it  is  as  intelligible  as  many  others  in  this  play. 
4  Upon  a  leafy  shelter/  which  is  the  great  stumbling-block,  ap- 
pears to  mean  *  Upon  a  spot  which  is  sheltered.' 

7  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  poet  wrote  :— 

*  And  so  afflict  our  province.'— 
We  have  no  example  of  to  inflict  used  by  itself  for  to  punish* 

8  It  appears  that  when  Pericles  was  originally  performed  the 
theatres  were  furnished  with  no  such  apparatus  as,  by  any 
stretch  of  imagination,  could  be  supposed  to  present  either  a 
sea  or  a  ship ;  and  that  the  audience  were  contented  to  behold 
vessels  sailing  in  and  ont  of  port  in  their  mind's  eye  only.  This 
licence  being  once  granted  to  the  poet,  the  lord  in  llv«i  tastaaRA 

366  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

HeL  A  gallant  lady. 

Lys.  She's  such,  that  were  I  well  assured  she  came 
Of  gentle  kind,  and  noble  stock,  I'd  wish 
No  better  choice,  and  think  me  rarely  wed. 
Fair  one,  all  goodness  that  consists  in  bounty  9 
Expect  even  here,  where  is  a  kingly  patient : 
If  that  thy  prosperous  and  artificial  feat 10 
Can  draw  him  but  to  answer  thee  in  aught, 
Thy  sacred  physick  shall  receive*  such  pay 
As  thy  desires  can  wish. 

Mar.  Sir,  I  will  use 

My  utmost  skill  in  his  recovery, 
Provided  none  but  I  and  my  companion  * 
Be  suffered  to  come  near  him. 
1  Lys.  Come,  let  us  leave  her, 

And  the  gods  make  her  prosperous ! 

[Marina  sings11. 

Lys.  Mark'd  he  your  musick? 

Mar.  No,  nor  look'd  on  us. 

Lys.  See,  she  will  speak  to  him* 

Mar.  Hail,  sir!  my  lord,  lend  ear: 

now  before  us,  walked  off  the  stage,  and  returned  again  in  i 
few  minutes,  leading  in  Marina  without  any  sensible  impro- 
priety ;  and  the  present  drama  exhibited  before  such  indulgent 
spectators,  was  not  more  incommodious  in  the  representation 
than  any  'other  would  have  been.  See  Malone's  Historical 
Account  of  the  English  Stage. 

9  The  quarto  of  1609  reads  :— 

*  Fair  on  all  goodness  that  consists  in  beauty,'  &c. 
The  present  circumstance  puts  us  in  mind  of  what  passes  be- 
tween Helena  and  the  King,  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well. 

10  The  old  copy  has  '  artificial  fate.'  The  emendation  is  by 
Dr.  Percy. 

11  This  song  (like  most  of  those  that  were  sung  in  the  old 
plays)  has  not  been  preserved.  It  may  have  been  formed  on  the 
lines  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum.  The  reader  desirous  of  consult- 
ing the  Latin  hexameters,  or  Twine's  translation  of  them,  may 
consult  the  Variorum  Shakspeare.  There  was  not  merit  enough 
in  them  to  warrant  their  production  in  this  abridged  commen- 


Per.  Hum!  ha! 

■  * 

Mar.  I  am  a  maid, 

My  lord,  that  ne'er  before  invited  eyes, 
But  have  been  gaz'd  on,  like  a  comet :  she  speaks. 
My  lord,  that,  may  be,  hath  endur'd  a  grief 
Might  equal  yours,  if  both  were  justly  weigh'd. 
Though  wayward  fortune  did  malign  my  state, 
My  derivation  was  from  ancestors 
Who  stood  equivalent  with  mighty  kings12: 
But  time  hath  rooted  out  my  parentage, 
And  to  the  world  and  awkward 13  casualties 
Bound  me  in  servitude. — I  will  desist; 
But  there  is  something  glows  upon  my  cheek, 
And  whispers  in  mine  ear,  Go  not  till  he  speak. 


Per.  My  fortunes — parentage — good  parentage — 
To  equal  mine ! — was  it 'not  thus?  what  say  you? 

Mar.  1  said,  my  lord,  if  you  did  know  my  pa- 
You  would  not  do  me  violence 14. 

Per.  I  do  think  so. 

I  pray  you,  turn  your  eyes  again  upon  me. — 
Y  ou  are  like  something  that — What  countrywoman  X 
Here  of  these  shores 35  ? 

M  So  in  Othello:— 

• I  fetch  my  birth 

From  men  of  royal  siege/ 
18  Awkward  is  adverse.    So  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  II.  :— 
*  And  twice  by  awkward  wind  from  England's  bank 
Dsove  back  again/ 
14  This  seems  to  refer  to  a  part  of  the  story  that  is  made  no 
use;  of  in  the  present  scene.    Thus  in  Twine's  translation  :— 
'  Then  Appolonins  fell  in  rage,  and  forgetting  all  courtesie,  &c. 
rose  up  sodainly  and  stroke  the  maiden/  &c.     Pericles  however 
afterwards  says—- 

'  Did'st  thou  not  say,  when  I  did  push  thee  back 
(Which  was  when  I  peroeiv'd  thee),  that  thou  cam' at 
From  good  descending?' 
14  This  passage  is  strangely  corrupt  in  the  old.  cop\ft8  :— 
'  Per.  X  do  think  so,  pray  you  tame  your  eyes  u$pnB**',S^€0C 


Mar.  No,  nor  of  any  shores: 

Yet  I  was  mortally  brought  forth,  and  am 
No  other  than  I  appear. 

Per.  I  am  great  with  woe,and  shall  deliver  weeping. 
My  dearest  wife  was  like  this  maid,  and  such  a  one 
My  daughter  might  have  been16 :  my  queen's  square 

brows ; 
Her  stature  to  an  inch;  as  wand-like  straight; 
As  silver-voic'd ;  her  eyes  as  jewel-like, 
And  cas'd  as  richly :  in  pace  another  Juno ; 
Who  starves  the  ears  she  feeds,  and  makes  them 

The  more  she  gives  them  speech. — Where  do  you 
*   live  ? 

Mar.  Where  I  am  but  a  stranger :  from  the  deck 
You  may  discern  the  place. 

Per.  Where  were  you  bred? 

And  how  achiey'd  you  these  endowments,  which 
You  make  more  rich  to  owe17  ? 

like  something  that,  what  country  women  heare  of  these  shewes/ 

'  Mar.  Nor  of  any  shewes/  &c. 
For  the  ingenious  emendation,  shores  instead  of  shewes,  as  well 
as  the  regulation  of  the  whole  passage,  Malone  confesses  his 
obligation  to  the  earl  of  Charlemorit. 

16  So  Dsemones,  in  the  Radens  of  Plautus,  exclaims,  on  be- 
holding his  long  lost  child : — 

Mea !  cum  ego  hanc  video,  mearum  me  absens  miseriarum 

Trima  quae  periit  mihi :  jam  tanta  esset,  si  vivit,  scio.' 

It  is  observable  that  some  of  the  leading  incidents  in  this  pltj 
strongly  remind  us  of  the  Rudens.  There  Arctnrus,  like  Gower, 
7rpoAoyi£d. — In  the  Latin  comedy,  fishermen,  as  in  Pericles,  are 
brought  on  the  stage,  one  of  whom  drags  on  shore  in  his  net  the 
wallet  which  principally  produces  the  catastrophe;  and  the 
heroine  of  Plautus,  and  Marina  fall  alike  into  the  hands  oft 
procurer:  a  circumstance  on  which  much  of  the  plot  in  both 
these  dramatick  pieces  depends.' — Holt  White. 

17  i.  e.  possess.  The  meaning  of  the  compliment  is : — These 
endowments,  YwNOTet  -vita&ta  Va.  'ta«&Mfa«ft,  are  heightened 

SC.  1.  PRINCE  OP  TYRE.  '359 

Mar.  Should  I  tell  my  history, 

Twould  seem  like  lies  disdain'd  in  the  reporting. 

Per.  Pr'ythee  speak; 
Falseness  cannot  come  from  thee,  for  thou  look'st 
Modest  as  justice,  and  thou  seem'st  a  palace 
For  the  crown'd 18  truth  to  dwell  in :  I'll  believe  thee, 
And  make  my  senses  credit  thy  relation. 
To  points  that  seem  impossible ;  for  thou  look'st 
Like  one  I  lov'd  indeed.     What  were  thy  friends? 
Didst  thou  not  say,  when  I  did  push  thee  back 
(Which  was  when  1  perceiv'd  thee),  that  thou  cam'st 
From  good  descending  ? 

Mar.  So  indeed  I  did. 

Per.  Report  thy  parentage.    I  think  thou  said'st 
Thou  hadst  been  toss'd  from  wrong  to  injury, 
And  that  thou  thought'st  thy  griefs  might  equal  mine, 
If  both  were  open'd. 

Mar.  Some  such  thing  indeed 

I  said,  and  said  no  more  but  what  my  thoughts 
Did  warrant  me  was  likely. 

Per.  Tell  thy  story ; 

If  thine  consider'd  prove  the  thousandth  part 
Of  my  endurance,  thou  art  a  man,  and  I 
Have  suffer'd  like  a  girl :  yet  thou  dost  look 
Like  Patience,  gazing  on  kings'  graves,  and  smiling 
Extremity  out  of  act19.    What  were  thy  friends  ? 

by  being  in  jour  possession :  they  acqnire  additional  grace  from 
their  owner.     One  of  Timon's  flatterers  says, 

'  Yon  mend  the  jewel  by  wearing  of  it.' 

18  Shakspeare  when  he  means  to  represent  any  quality  of  the 
mind,  &c.  as  eminently  perfect,  furnishes  the  personification 
with  a  crown.  See  the  37th  and  144th  Sonnets.  So  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet  :— 

'  Upon  his  brow  shame  is  asham'd  to  sit; 
For  'tis  a  throne,  where  honour  may  be  crown'd 
Sole  monarch  of  the  universal  earth.' 

19  '  By  her  beauty  and  patient  meekness  disarming  Calamity, 
and  preventing  her  from  using  her  uplifted  sword.    Extremity 

360  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

How  lost  thou  them?   Thy  name,  my  most  kind 

Recount,  I  do  beseech  thee ;  come,  sit  by  me. 

Mar.  My  name,  sir,  is  Marina. 

Per.  O,  I  am  mockM, 

And  thou  by  some  incensed  god  sent  hither 
To  make  the  world  laugh  at  me. 

Mar.  Patience,  good  sir, 

Or  here  I'll  cease. 

Per.  Nay,  I'll  be  patient ; 

Thou  little  know'st  how  thou  dost  startle  me, 
To  call  thyself  Marina. 

Mar.  The  name  Marina 

Was  given  me  by  one  that  had  some  power; 
My  father,  and  a  king. 

Per.  How!  a  kind's  daughter? 

And  call'd  Marina? 

Mar.  You  said  you  would  believe  me ; 

But,  not  to  be  a  troubler  of  your  peace, 
I  will  end  here. 

Per.  But  are  you  flesh  and  blood? 

Have  you  a  working  pulse?  and  are  no  fairy? 
No  motion20?  Well;  speak  on.     Where  were  you 

And  wherefore  call'd  Marina  ? 

Mar.  Call'd  Marina, 

For  I  was  born  at  sea. 

(though  not  personified  as  here)  is  in  like  manner  used  for  the 
utmost  of  human  suffering  in  King  Lear : — 

* another, 

To  amplify  too  much,  would  much  more 

And  top  extremity.* 
So  in  Twelfth  ^ight :— . 

'  She  sat  like  Patience  on  a  monument 

Smiling  at  Grief/ 
90  i.  e.  No  puppet  dressed  op  to  deceive  me.     So  in  The  TV* 
Gentlemen  of  Verona': — 

*  0  excellent  motion!  O  exceeding  pnppet !' 

tC.  I.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  301 

Per.  At  sea?  thy  mother?  - 

Mar.  My  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  king; 
7 ho  died  the  very  minute  I  was  born, 
s  my  good  nurse  Lychorida  hath  oft 
eliver'd  weeping. 

Per.  O,  stop  there  a  little ! 

[lis  is  the  rarest  dream  that  e'er  dull  sleep 
id  mock  sad  fools  withal :  this  cannot  be. 
[y   daughter's   buried.    [^tsicfe.]     Well:— where 

were  you  bred  ? 
II  hear  you  more,  to  the  bottom  of  your  story, 
nd  never  interrupt  you. 
Mar.   You'll  scarce  believe  me;  'twere  best  I 

did  give  o'er. 
Per.  I  will  believe  you  by  the  syllable 
f  what  you  shall  deliver21.  Yet,  give  me  leave  :— 
ow  came  you  in  these  parts  ?  where  were  you  bred  ? 
Mar.  The  king,  my  father,  did  in  Tharsus  leave  me ; 
ill  cruel  Cleon,  with  his  wicked  wife, 
id  seek  to  murder  me :  and  having  woo'd 
.  villain  to  attempt  it,  who  having  drawn  to  do't, 
.  crew  of  pirates  came  and  rescued  me; 
r ought  me  to  Mitylene.     But  now,  good  sir, 
rhither  will  you  have  me?  Why  do  you  weep?  It 

may  be, 
ou  think  me  an  impostor;  no,  good  faith; 
am  the  daughter  to  king  Pericles,' 
'  good  king  Pericles  be. 
Per.  Ho,  Helicanus ! 

Hel.  Calls  my  gracious  lord? 

Per.  Thou  art  a  grave  and  noble  counsellor, 

91  That  is,  I  will  believe  every  the  minutest  part  of  what  you 
j.    So  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well  :— 

'  To  the  utmost  syllable  of  your  worthiness.' 

id  in  Macbeth  : — 

'  To  the  fast  syllable  of  recorded  time.' 

VOL.  IX.  I   I 



Most  wide  in  general:  Tell  me,  if  thou  canst, 
What  this  maid  is,  or  what  is  like  to  be, 
That  thus  hath  made  me  weep  ? 

Hel.  I  know  not;  but 

Here  is  the  regent,  sir,  of  Mitylene, 
Speaks  nobly  of  her. 

Lys.  She  would  never  tell 

Her  parentage;  being  demanded  that, 
She  would  sit  still  and  weep. 

Per.  O  Helicanus,  strike  me,  honoured  sir; 
Give  me  a  gash,  put  me  to  present  pain ; 
Lest  this  great  sea  of  joys  rushing  upon  me, 
O'erbear  the  shores  of  my  mortality, 
And  drown  me  with  their  sweetness.  O,  come  hither. 
Thou  that  beget'st  him  that  did  thee  beget ; 
Thou  that  wast  born  at  sea,  buried  at  Tharsus, 
And  found  at  sea  again !  O  Helicanus, 
Down  on  thy  knees,  thank  the  holy  gods,  as  loud 
As  thunder  threatens  us;  This  is  Marina. — 
What  was  thy  mother's  name  ?  tell  me  but  that, 
For  truth  can  never  be  confirm'd  enough, 
Though  doubts  did  ever  sleep22. 

Mar.  First,  sir,  I  pray, 

What  is  your  title  ? 

Per.  I  am  Pericles  of  Tyre:  but  tell  me  now 
My  drown'd  queen's  name  (as  in  the  rest  thou  hast 
Been  godlike  perfect),  thou'rt  the  heir  of  kingdoms, 
And  another  life  to  Pericles  thy  father83. 

99  i.  e.  in  plain  language,  '  though  nothing  ever  happened  to 
awake  a  scruple  or  donbt  concerning  your  veracity.' 

83  This  passage  is  very  much  corrupted  in  the  old  copies: 
in  the  last  line  we  have,  '  another  like.*  The  emendation  is 
founded  upon  that  of  Mason.    Malone  reads : — 

'  Per.  I  am  Pericles  of  Tyre :  but  tell  me  now 
My  drowned  queen's  name  (as  in  the  rest  you  said 
Thou  hast  been  godlike  perfect,)  the  heir  of  kingdoms, 
And  a  mother  like  to  Pericles  thy  father.' 

SC.  I.  PRINCE  OP  TYRE.  36a 

Mar.  Is  it  no  more  to  be  your  daughter,  than 
To  say,  my  mother's  name  was  Thaisa  ? 
Thaisa  was  my  mother,  who  did  end, 
The  minute  I  began24. 

Per.  Now,  blessing  on  thee,  rise ;  thou  art  my 
Give  me  fresh  garments.     Mine  own,  Helicanus 
(Not  dead  at  Tharsus,  as  she  should  have  been, 
By  savage  Cleon),  she  shall  tell  thee  all ; 
When  thou  shalt  kneel  and  justify  in  knowledge, 
She  is  thy  very  princess. — Who  is  this  ? 

Hel.  Sh*,  'tis  the  governor  of  Mitylene, 
Who,  hearing  of  your  melancholy  state, 
Did  come  to  see  you. 

Per.  I  embrace  you,  sir. 

Give  me  my  robes;  I  am  wild  in  my  beholding. 
O  heavens  bless  my  girl !  But  hark,  what  musick  ? — 
Tell  Helicanus,  my  Marina,  tell  him 
O'er  point  by  point,  for  yet  he  seems  to  doubt, 
How  sure  you  are  my  daughter. — But  what  musick  ? 

Hel  My  lord,  I  hear  none. 

Per.  None? 
The  musick  of  the  spheres :  list,  my  Marina. 

Lyg.  It  is  not  good  to  cross  him ;  give  him  way. 

Per.  Rarest  sounds ! 
Do  ye  not  hear? 

Lys.  Musick?  My  lord,  I  hear— 

Per.  Most  heavenly  musick : 
It  nips  me  unto  list'ning,  and  thick  slumber 
Hangs  on  mine  eyelids ;  let  me  rest.       [He  sleeps. 

Mason's  emendation  is  confirmed  by  what  Pericles  says  in  the 
preceding  speech : — 

'     •  O  come  hither 

Thou  that  beget' st  him  that  did  thee  beget/ 

a*  So  in  the  Winter's  Tale  :— 

4 Lady, 

Dear  queen,  that  ended  when  I  but  began, 
Give  me  that  band  of  yours  to  Vi&a* 


Lys.  A  pillow  for  his  head ; 

[The  Curtain  before  the  Pavilion  of  Peri- 
cles is  closed. 
So  leave  him  all. —  Well,  my  companion-friends25, 
If  this  but  answer  to  my  just  belief, 
111  well  remember  you. 

[Exeunt  Lysimachus,  Helicanus,  Ma- 
rina, and  attendant  Lady. 

SCENE  II.     The  same. 

Pericles  on  the  Deck  asleep;  Diana  appearing 

to  him  as  in  a  Vision  *. 

JHa.   My  temple  stands  in  Ephesus;    hie  thee 
And  do  upon  mine  altar  sacrifice. 
There,  when  my  maiden  priests  are  met  together, 
Before  the  people  all, 

Reveal  how  thou  at  sea  didst  lose  thy  wife ; 
To  mourn  thy  crosses,  with  thy  daughter's,  call, 
And  give  them  repetition  to  the  life  2. 
Perform  my  bidding,  or  thou  liv'st  in  woe :    . 

24  Mai  one  would  give  these  lines  to  Marina,  reading — 
* Well,  my  companion-friend.' 

Observing  that  a  lady  had  entered  with  her,  and  Marina  says,  I 
will  use  my  utmost  skill  in  the  recovery  of  Pericles, 

« provided 

That  none  but  I  and  my  companion-maid 

Be  suffered  to  come  near  him.' 
Steevens  contends  for  the  text  as  it  stands,  remarking  that '  Ly- 
simachus is  much  in  love  with  Marina,  and  supposing  himself  to 
be  near  the  gratification  of  his  wishes,  with  a  generosity  common 
to  noble  natures  on  such  occasions,  is  desirous  to  make  his  friends 
and  companions  partakers  of  his  happiness.' 

1  This  vision  appears  to  be  founded  on  a  passage  in  Gower. 
8  In  the  old  copy  we  have  here  like  for  life  again.  The  pas- 
sage appears  to  mean  : — '  Draw  such  a  picture  as  shall  prove 
itself  to  have  been  copied  from  real,  not  from  pretended  cala- 
mities ;  such  a  one  as  shall  strike  the  hearers  with  all  the  lustre 
of  conspicuous  lru\W 

SC.  II.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  365 

Do't,  and  be  happy,  by  my  silver  bow. 

Awake,  and  tell  thy  dream.      [Diana  disappears. 

Per.  Celestial  Dian,  goddess  argentine3, 
I  will  obey  thee ! — Helicanus ! 

Enter  Lysimaciius,  Helicanus,  and  Marina. 

Hel.  Sir. 

Per.  My  purpose  was  for  Tharsus,  there  to  strike 
The  inhospitable  Cleon ;  but  I  am 
For  other  service  first:  toward  Epbesus 
Turn  our  blown  *  sails ;  eft  soons  I'll  tell  thee  why. — 
[7b  Helicanus. 
Shall  we  refresh  us,  sir,  upon  your  shore, 
And  give  you  gold  for  such  provision 
As  our  intents  will  need? 

Lyg.  With  all  my  heart,  sir;  and  when  you  come 

I  have  another  suit. 

Per.  You  shall  prevail. 

Were  it  to  woo  my  daughter ;  for  it  seems 
You  have  been  noble  towards  her. 

Lyt.  Sir,  lend  your  arm. 

Per.  Come,  my  Marina.  [Exeunt. 

,  ■  Enter  Goweb,  before  the  Temple  of  Diana  at 

*       Goto.  Now  our  sands  are  almost  run; 
More  a  little,  and  then  done*. 
This,  as  my  last  boon,  give  me 
(For  such  Jrindness  must  relieve  me), 

1  i.  e.  regent  cif  the  silver  moon.  In  the  languige  of  slehemj, 
which  Wbb  well  understood  when  thh  piny  wa>  written,  Luna  or 
Diana  iuiiiii  tilver,  as  Sal  does  gold. 

300  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

That  you  aptly  will  suppose 

What  pageantry,  what  feats,  what  shows, 

What  minstrelsy,  and  pretty  din, 

The  regent  made  in  Mitylin, 

To  greet  the  king.     So  he  has  thriv'd, 

That  he  is  promis'd  to  be  wiv'd 

To  fair  Marina ;  but  in  no  wise 

Till  he6  had  done  his  sacrifice, 

As  Dian  bade :  whereto  being  bound, 

The  interim,  pray  you,  all  confound7. 

In  feather'd  briefness  sails  are  fill'd, 

And  wishes  fall  out  as  they're  will'd. 

At  Ephesus,  the  temple  see, 

Our  king,  and  all  his  company. 

That  he  can  hither  come  so  soon, 

Is  by  your  fancy's  thankful  boon.  [Exit. 


The  Temple  of  Di  an  A  at  Ephesus :  Thais  A  stand- 
ing near  the  Altar,  as  High  Priestess;  a  number 
of  Virgins  on  each  side;  Cerimon  and  other 
Inhabitants  of  Ephesus  attending. 

Enter  Pericles,  with  his  Train;  Lysimachus, 
Helicanus,  Marina,  and  a  Lady. 

Per.  Hail  Dian!  to  perform  thy  just  command, 
I  here  confess  myself  the  king  of  Tyre ; 
Who,  frighted  from  my  country,  did  wed 
The  fair  Thaisa,  at  Pentapolis. 
At  sea  in  childbed  died  she,  but  brought  forth 
A  maid-child  call'd  Marina;  who,  O  goddess, 

e  i.  e.  Pericles. 

7  Confound  here  signifies  to  consume, 

'  He  did  confound  the  best  part  of  ail  hour 
Exchanging  hardiment  with  great  GJ endow 'r/ 

King  Henry  V* 

.  III.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.  367 

ours  yet  thy  silver  livery  *.     She  at  Tharsus 
s  nurs'd  with  Cleon ;  whom  at  fourteen  years 
sought  to  murder:  but  her  better  stars 
ught  her  to  Mitylene :  against  whose  shore 
ing,  her  fortunes  brought  the  maid  aboard  us, 
ere,  by  her  own  most  clear  remembrance,  she 
le  known  herself  my  daughter. 
liai.  Voice  and  favour!*— 

1  are — you  are — O  royal  Pericles2! — 

[She  faints. 
*er.  What  means  the  woman?  she  dies!  help, 

gentlemen ! 
•er.  Noble  sir, 

ou  have  told  Diana's  altar  true, 
\  is  your  wife. 

.  e.  her  white  robe  of  innocence,  as  being  yet  under  the 
ction  of  the  goddess  of  chastity. 

The  similitude  between  this  scene  and  the  discovery  in  the 
ct  of  The  Winter's  Tale  will  strike  every  reader, 
the  fragment  of  the  Old  Metrical  Romance,  formerly,  in 
tamer's  possession,  mentioned  in  the  Preliminary  Remarks, 
is  told  with  simplicity  and  pathos.  I  lay  it  before  the 
irasa  philological  curiosity : — 

*  The  whiles  he  expounede  thus  hys  lyf 

Wc  sorwe  &  stedfast  thouzt, 

He  tolde  hit  to  hys  owene  wyf, 

Sche  knew  him  [though]  he  hire  nought, 

Heo  caught  hym  in  hire  armes  two, 

For  joye  sche  ne  myght  spek  a  word, 

The  kyng  was  wroth  &  pitte  her  fro ; 

Heo  cryede,  loude — '  ye  beth  my  lord, 

I  am  youre  wyf,  youre  leof  yore, 

Arcbistrata  ye  lovede  so, 

The  kynges  doughtr  y  was  bore, 

Archistrates  he  ne  hadde  na  mo.' 

Heo  clipte  hym  &  eftr  *  *  *  kysse 

And  saide  thus  byfore  hem  alle 

Ze  seeth  Appolyn  the  kyng 

My  mayst*  that  taujt  me  all  my  good'— 
Cetera  desunt. 

368  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

Per.  Reverend  appearer,  no; 

I  threw  her  overboard  with  these  very  arms. 

Cer.  Upon  this  coast,  I  warrant  you. 

Per.  Tis  most  certain. 

Cer.  Look  to  the  lady; — O,  she's  but  o'erjoy'd! 
Early,  one  blust'ring  morn,  this  lady  was 
Thrown  on  this  shore.     I  op'd  the  coffin,  and 
Found  there  rich  jewels ;  recover'd  her,  and  plac'd 

Here  in  Diana's  temple s. 

Per.  May  we  see  them? 

Cer.  Great  sir,  they  shall  be  brought  you  to  my 
house  4, 
Whither  I  invite  you.    Look!  Thaisa  is 

Thai.  O,  let  me  look ! 
If  he  be  none  of  mine,  my  sanctity 
Will  to  my  sense5  bend  no  licentious  ear, 
But  curb  it,  spite  of  seeing.     O,  my  lord, 
Are  you  not  Pericles?  Like  him  you  speak, 
like  him  you  are :  Did  you  not  name  a  tempest, 
A  birth,  and  death  ? 

Per.  The  voice  of  dead  Thaisa  i 

Thai.  That  Thaisa  am  I,  supposed  dead, 
And  drown'd  6. 

Per.  Immortal  Dian ! 

9  The  same  situation  occurs  again  in  the  Comedy  of  Error*, 
where  iEgeon  loses  his  wife  at  sea,  and  finds  her  at  last  u  a 

4  This  circumstance  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  meeting' 
of  Leontes  and  Hermione  in  The  Winter's  Tale.  The  office  of 
Cerimon  is  not  unlike  that  of  Paulina.  * 

4  Sense  is  here  used  for  sensual  passion, 

6  Drown* d  in  this  instance  does  not  signify  suffocated  by 
water,  but  overwhelmed  in  it.  Thus  K  no  lies,  History  of  tbe 
Turks : — '  Galleys  might  be  drowned  in  the  harbour  with  tbe 
great  ordnance,  before  they  could  be  rigged.' 

SC.  III.  PRINCE  OF  TYRE.   -  3(>a 

Thai .  Now  I  know  you  better. 

When  we  with  tears  parted  Pentapolis, 
The  king,  my  father,  gave  ydu  such  a  ring. 

[Shows  a  Ring. 

Per.  This,  this;  no  more,  you  gods!  your  pre- 
sent kindness 
Makes  my  past  miseries  sport7:  You  shall  do  well, 
That  on  the  touching  of  her  lips  I  may 
Melt,  and  jio  more  be  seen8.     O  come,  be  buried 
A  second  time  within  these  arms. 

Mar.  My  heart 

Leaps  to  be  gone  into  my  mother's  bosom. 

[Kneels  to  Thaisa. 

Per.  Look,  who  kneels  here !  Flesh  of  thy  flesh, 
Thy  burden  at  the  sea,  and  call'd  Marina, 
For  she  was  yielded  there. 

Thai.  Bless'd  and  mine  own ! 

Hel.  Hail,  madam,  and  my  queen ! 

Thai.  I  know  you  not. 

Per.  You  have  heard  me  say,  when  I  did  fly 
from  Tyre, 
I  left  behind  an  ancient  substitute. 
Can  you  remember  what  I  call'd  the  man  ? 
I  have  nam'd  him  oft. 

Thai.  Twas  Helicanus  then. 

Per.  Still  confirmation : 

7  So  in  King  Lear:. — 

'  It  is  a  chance  that  does  redeem  all  sorrows 
That  ever  I  have  felt.* 


8  This  is  a  sentiment  which  Shakspeare  never  fails  to  intro- 
duce on  occasions  similar  to  the  present.  So  in  the  39th  Psalm : — 
'  O  spare  me  a  little,  that  I  may  recover  my  strength,  before  I 
j?o  hence  and  be  no  more  seen.*  The  same  thought  is  expressed 
by  Perdita  in  The  Winter's  Tale  :— 

'  Not  like  a  corse; — or  if — not  to  be  buried     • 
But  quick,  and  in  mine  arms.* 

370  PERICLES,  ACT  V. 

Embrace  him,  dear  Thaisa :  this  is  he. 
Now  do  I  long  to  hear  how  you  were  found; 
How  possibly  preserv'd ;  and  whom  to  thank, 
Besides  the  gods,  for  this  great  miracle. 

Thai.  Lord  Cerimon,  my  lord ;  this  man 
Through  whom  the  gods  have  shown  their  power; 

that  can 
From  first  to  last  resolve  you. 

Per.  Reverend  sir, 

The  gods  can  have  no  mortal  officer 
More  like  a  god  than  you.     Will  you  deliver 
How  this  dead  queen  relives  ? 

Cer.  I  will,  my  lord. 

Beseech  you,  first  go  with  me  to  my  house, 
Where  shall  be  shown  you  all  was  found  with  her; 
How  she  came  placed  here  within  the  temple; 
No  needful  thing  omitted. 

Per.  Pure  Diana! 

I  bless  thee  for  thy  vision,  and  will  offer 
My  night  oblations  to  thee.    Thaisa, 
This  prince,  the  fair-betrothed9  of  your  daughter, 
Shall  marry  her  at  Pentapolis.    And  now, 
This  ornament  that  makes  me  look  so  dismal, 
Will  I,  my  lov'd  Marina,  clip  to  form ; 
And  what  this  fourteen  years  no  razor  touch'd, 
To  grace  thy  marriage-day,  I'll  beautify10. 

9  i.  e.  fairly  contracted,  honourably  affianced. 

10  The  author  has  here  followed  Gower  or  the  Gesta  Romt- 
norum : — 

'  —  this  a  vowe  to  God  I  make 

That  I  shall  never  for  hir  sake, 

My  berdefor  no  likynge  shave, 

Till  it  befall e  that  I  have 

In  convenable  time  of  age 

Besette  her  unto  marriage.* 
The  poet  has,  however,  been  guilty  of  a  slight  inadvertency.  If 
Pericles  made  the  vow  almost  immediately  after  the  birth  of 
Marina,  it  was  hardly  necessary  for  him  to  make  it  again,  as  he 
has  done,  when  be  arrived  at  Tharsus. 

SC.  Ill,  PRINCE  OF  TYRE,  371 

Thai.  Lord  Cerimon  hath  letters  of  good  credit, 
Sir,  that  my  father's  dead11. 

Par.  Heavens  make  a  star  of  hira '- !  Yet  there, 
my  queen, 
Well  celebrate  their  nuptials,  and  ourselves 
"Will  in  that  kingdom  spend  our  following  days; 
Our  sou  and  daughter  shall  in  Tyros  reign. 
Lord  Cerimon,  we  do  our  longing  stay, 
To  hear. the  rest  untold.— Sir,  lead  the  way. 


Enter  Goweh. 
(Sow.  In  Antioch",  and  his  daughter,  you  have 
Of  monstrous  lust  the  due  and  just  reward : 

11  In  the  fragment  of  the  Old  Metrical  Romance  the  father 
■Ales  in  hi*  daughter's  inns. 

•  Zitt  waa  bj*  fader-in-lawe  a  Ijve 
Archia  Irate  s  the  goad  kvng, 
Folk  come  ageyneg  hjm  so  bljve 
Ai  eoj  oijght  bj  otb[  Ibjng  ; 
They  nong  daanaede  &  were  bljtfae, 
That  ever  he.mjghte  that  daj  vseo, 
And  thonked  God  a  thousand  gjthe, 
The  kynga  wa»  gtaddeal  ever  be  ye. 
Tho  he  saw  hem  alle  bj  fore 
Hji  donght'  &  hja  sone  in  lawe, 
And  bvs  donghl'  go  fair  j  core, 
A  kjngii  wjle  beo  was  wel  fawe, 
And  ber  chyld  ther  alio 
Al  clene  of  kvngis  blud,  . 

He  buate  hem,  ho  waa  glad  tho 
But  the  olde  kyng  go  goad. 
He  made  hem  dwells  that  jer 
And  deyde  in  hvh  docght**  ahm.' 
H  Thi*  notion  in  borrowed  from  the  ancient!,  who  eipresaed 

bj  placing  them  among  the  stare. 

"  i.  e.  the  king  of  Antioch.  The  old  cop;  read*  Antiachm. 
Steevens  made  the  alteration,  observing  that  in  Sbakapeare'a 
other  plaji  we  have  France  for  the.  king  of  France;  Morocco  for 
tie  king  of  Morocco,  &c. 

372  PERICLES.  ACT  \. 

In  Pericles,  his  queen  and  daughter,  seen 
(Although  assail'd  with  fortune  fierce  and  keen), 
Virtue  preserv'd  from  fell  destruction's  blast, 
Led  on  by  heaven,  and  crown'd  with  joy  at  last 
In  Helicanus  may  you  well  descry 
A  figure  of  truth,  of  faith,  of  loyalty : 
In  reverend  Cerimon  there  well  appears, 
The  worth  that  learned  charity  aye  wears. 
For  wicked  Cleon  and  his  wife,  when  fame 
Had  spread  their  cursed  deed,  and  honour'd  name 
Of  Pericles,  to  rage  the  city  turn ; 
That  him  and  his  they  in  his  palace  burn. 
The  gods  for  murder  seemed  so  content 
To  punish  them ;  although  not  done,  but  meant 
So  on  your  patience  evermore  attending, 
New  joy  wait  on  you !  Here  our  play  has  ending. 

[Exit  Gower. 

That  this  tragedy  has  some  merit,  it  were  vain  to  deny ;  bat  that 
it  is  the  entire  composition  of  Shakspeare,  is  more  than  can  be 
hastily  granted.  I  shall  not  venture  with  Dr.  Farmer,  to  deter- 
mine that  the  hand  of  our  great  poet  is  only  visible  in  the  last 
act ;  for  I  think  it  appears  in  several  passages  dispersed  over 
each  of  these  divisions.  I  find  it  difficult,  however,  to  persuade 
myself  that  he  was  the  original  fabricator  of  the  plot,  or  the 
author  of  every  dialogue,  chorus,  &c.  Ste evens. 


France.  Come,  my  fair  Cordelia. 


King  fLtar* 


The  story  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  daughters  was  originally 
told  by  Geffrey  of  Monmouth,  from  whom  Holinshed  transcribed 
it;  and  in  his  Chronicle  Shakspeare  had  certainly  read  it:  bat 
he  seems  to  have  been  more  indebted  to  the  old  anonymous 
play,  entitled  The  True  Chronicle  Hystorie  of  Leire,  King  of 
England,  and  his  Three  Daughters  Gonorill,  Ragan,  and  Cor- 
delia, 1605.  A  play  with  that  title  was  entered  on  the  Sta- 
tioners* books  by  Edward  White,  May  14, 1594 ;  and  there  are 
two  other  entries  of  the  same  piece,  May  8,  1605 ;  and  Not.  26, 
1607.  From  the  Mirror  of  Magistrates  Shakspeare  has  taken 
the  hint  for  the  behaviour  of  the  Steward,  and  the  reply  of  Cor- 
delia to  her  father,  concerning  her  future  marriage.  The  Epi- 
sode of  Gloucester  and  his  sons  must  hare  been  borrowed  from 
Sidney's  Arcadia,  no  trace  of  it  being  found  in  the  other  sources 
of  the  fable.  The  reader  will  also  find  the  story  of  King  Lear 
in  the  second  book  and  tenth  canto  of  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene, 
and  in  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  the  third  book  of  Warner's  Al- 
bion's England.  Camden,  in  his  Remaines,  under  the  head  of 
Wise  Speeches,  tells  a  similar  story  to  this  of  Lear,  of  Ina,  king 
of  the  West  Saxons ;  which,  if  the  thing  ever  happened,  proba- 
bly was  the  real  origin  of  the  fable.  The  story  has  found  its 
way  into  many  ballads  and  other  metrical  pieces ;  one  ballad 
will  be  found  in  Dr.  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poe- 
try, toI.  i.  3d  edit.  The  story  is  also  to  be  found  in  the  unpub- 
lished Gesta  Romanorum,  and  in  the  Romance  of  Perceforest. 
The  whole  of  this  play  could  not  have  been  written  till  after  1603. 
Harsnet's  Declaration  of  Popish  Impostures,  to  which  it  contains 
so  many  references,  and  from  which  the  fantastic  names  of  several 
spirits  are  borrowed,  was  not  published  till  that  year.  It  must 
have  been  produced  before  the  Christmas  of  1606 ;  for  in  the 
entry  of  Lear  on  the  Stationers'  Register,  on  the  $6&  of  Ita- 

VOL.  IX.  K  K 

374  KINO  LEAR. 

▼ember,  1607,  it  it  expressly  recorded  to  have  been  played,    ( 
during  the  preceding  Christmas,  before  his  majesty  at  'White- 
hall.   Malone  places  the  date  of  the  composition  in  1605;  Dr. 
Drake  in  1604. 

'  Of  this  noble  tragedy,  one  of  the  first  productions  of  the 
noblest  of  poets,  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  express  our  admira- 
tion in  adequate  terms.  Whether  considered  as  an  effort  of  art, 
or  as  a  picture  of  the  passions,  it  is  entitled  to  the  highest 
praise.  The  two  portions  of  which  the  fable  consists,  involving 
the  fate  of  Lear  and  his  daughters,  and  of  *6loster  and  his  soot, 
influence  each  other  in  so  many  points,  and  are  blended  with 
such  consummate  skill,  that  whilst  the  imagination  is  delighted 
by  diversity  of  circumstances,  the  judgment  is  equally  gratified 
in  viewing  their  mutual  cooperation  towards  the  final  result; 
the  coalescence  being  so  intimate,  as  not  only  to  preserve  the 
necessary  unity  of  action,  but  to  constitute  one  of  the  greatest 
beauties  of  the  piece. 

'  Such,  indeed,  is  the  interest  excited  by  the  structure  and 
concatenation  of  the  story,  that  the  attention  is  not  once  suffered 
to  flag.  By  a  rapid .  succession  of  incidents,  by  sudden  and 
overwhelming  vicissitudes,  by  the  most  awful  instances  of  mi- 
sery and  destitution,  by  the  boldest  contrariety  of  characters, 
are  curiosity  and  anxiety  kept  progressively  increasing,  and  with 
an  impetus  so  strong  as  nearly  to  absorb  every  faculty  of  the 
mind  and  every  feeling  of  the  heart. 

'  Victims  of  frailty,  of  calamity,  or  of  vice,  in  an  age  remote 
and  barbarous*  the  actors  in  this  drama  are  brought  forward 
with  a  strength  of  colouring  which,  had  the  scene  been  placed 
in  a  more  civilized  era,  might  have  been  justly  deemed  too  dark 
and  ferocious ;  but  is  not  discordant  with  the  earliest  heathen 
age  of  Britain.  The  effect  of  this  style  of  characterisation  is 
felt  occasionally  throughout  the  entire  play ;  but  is  particularly 
visible  in  the  delineation  of  the  vicious  personages  of  the  drama, 
the  parts  of  Goneril,  Regan,  Edmund,  and  Cornwall,  being  loaded ' 
not  only  with  ingratitude  of  the  deepest  dye,  but  with  cruelty 
of  the  most  savage  and  diabolical  nature ;  they  are  the  criminals, 
in  fact,  of  an  age  where  vice  may  be  supposed  to  reign  with 
lawless  and  gigantic  power,  and  in  which  the  extrusion  of  Glos* 
ter's  eyes  might  be  such  an  event  as  not  un frequently  occurred. 
Had  this  mode  of  casting  his  characters  in  the  extreme  been  ( 



applied  to  the  remainder  of  the  dramatis  persona,  we  should 
have  lost  some  of  the  finest  lessons  of  humanity  and  wisdom* 
that  ever  issued  from  the  pen  of  an  uninspired  writer;  but  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  coarsenesses,  which  remind  as  of  the 
barbarous  period  to  which  the  story  is  referred,  and  of  a  few- 
incidents  rather  revolting  to  credibility,  but  which  coald  net  be 
detached  from  the  original  narrative,  the  virtuous  agents  of  the 
play  exhibit  the  manners  and  the  feelings  of  civilization,  and 
are  of  that  mixed  fabric  which  can  alone  display  a  jnst  por- 
traiture of  the  nature  and  composition  of  our  species.  • 

';  The  characters  of  Cordelia  and  Edgar,  it  is  true,  approach 
nearly  to  perfection;  but  the  filial  virtues  of  the  former  are 
combined  with  such  exquisite  tenderness  of  heart,  and  those  of 
the  latter  with  such  bitter  humiliation  and  suffering,  that  grief,, 
indignation,  and  pity  are  instantly  excited.  Very  striking  repre- 
sentations are  also  given  of  the  rough  fidelity  of  Kent,  and  of 
the  hasty  credulity  of  Gloster;  but  it  is  in  delineating  the  pas- 
sions, feelings,  and  afflictions  of  Lear  that  our  poet  has  wrought 
up  a  picture  of  human  misery  which  has  never  been  surpassed, 
and  which  agitates  the  soul  with  the  most  overpowering  emo-< 
tions  of  sympathy  and  compassion. 

'  The  conduct  of  the  unhappy  monarch  having  been  founded 
merely  on  the  impulses  of  sensibility,  and  not  on  any  fixed  prin- 
ciple or  rule  of  action,  no  sooner  has  he  discovered  the  baseness 
of  those  on  whom  he  had  relied,  and  the  fatal  mistake  into- 
which  he  had  been  hurried  by  the  delusions  of  inordinate*  fond- 
ness and  extravagant  expectation,  than  he  feels  himself  bereft 
of  all  consolation  and  resource.  Those  to  whom  he  had  given 
all,  for  whom  he  had  stripped  himself  of  dignity  and  power,  and 
on  whom  he  had  centred  every  hope  of  comfort  and  repose  in 
his  old  age,  his  inhuman  daughters,  having  not  only  treated  him 
with  utter  coldness  and  contempt,  but  sought  to  deprive  him  of 
all  the  respectability,  and  even  of  the  very  means  of  existence, 
what  in  a  mind  so  constituted  as  Lear's,  the  sport  of  intense  and 
ill  regulated  feeling,  and  tortured  by  the  reflection  of  having 
deserted  the  only  child  who  loved  him,  what  but  madness  could 
be  expected  as  the  result  ?  It  was,  in  fact,  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  the  reciprocal  action  of  complicated  distress  and  mor- 
bid sensibility ;  and  in  describing  the  approach  of  this  dreadful 
infliction,  in  tracing  its  progress,  its  height,  and  su,baidfti^«>  «w 

370  KINa  LEAR. 

poet  hat  displayed  such  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  working! 
of  the  human  intellect,  under  all  its  aberrations,  as  would  afford 
an  admirable  study  for  the  inquirer  into  mental  physiology. 
He  has  also  in  this  play,  as  in  that  of  Hamlet,  finely  discrimi- 
nated between  real  and  assumed  insanity.  Edgar,  amidst  all 
the  wild  imagery  whioh  his  imagination  has  accumulated,  never 
touching  on  the  true  source  of  his  misery,  whilst  Lear,  on  the 
contrary,  finds  it  associated  with  every  object  and  every  thought 
however  distant  or  dissimilar.  Not  even  the  Orestes  of  Euri- 
pides, or  the  Clementina  of  Richardson,  can,  as  pictures  of  dis- 
ordered reason,  be  placed  in  competition  with  this  of  Lear ;  it 
may  be  [pronounced,  indeed,  from  its  truth  and  completeness, 
beyond  the  reach  of  rivalry  V 

.    An  anonymous  writer,  who  has  instituted  a  comparison  be- 
tween the  Lear  of  Shakspeare  and  the  (Edipus  of  Sophocles,  and 
justly  given  the  palm  to  the  former,  closes  his  essay  with  the 
following  sentence,  to  which  every  reader  of  taste  and  feeling 
will  subscribe: — '  There  is  no  detached  character  in  Shak- 
speare's  writings  which  displays  so  vividly  as  this  the  hand  and 
mind  of  a  master ;  which  exhibits  so  great  a  variety  of  excel- 
lence, and  such  amazing  powers  of  delineation j  so  intimate  a 
knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  with  such  exact  skill  in  tracing 
the  progress  and  the  effects  of  its  more  violent  and  more  deli- 
cate passions.     It  is  in  the  management  of  this  character  more 
especially  that  he  fills  up  that  grand  idea  of  a  perfect  poet, 
which  we  delight  to  image  to  ourselves,  but  despair  of  seeing 
realised  t.' 

.  In  the  same  work  from  whence  this  is  extracted  will  be  found  an 
article,  entitled '  Theatralia,'  attributed  to  the  pen  of  Mr.  Charles 
Lamb,  in  which  are  the  following  striking  animadversions  on  the 
liberty  taken  in  changing  the  catastrophe  of  this  tragedy  in  repre- 
sentation. '  The  Lear  of  Shakspeare  cannot  be  acted.  The  con- 
temptible machinery  with  which  they  mimic  the  storm  he  goes 
out  in,  is  not  more  inadequate  to  represent  the  horrors  of  the 
real  elements,  than  any  actor  can  be  to  represent  Lear.  The 
greatness  of  Lear  is  not  in  corporal  dimension,  but  in  intellec- 

*  Drake's  Shakspeare  and  his  Times,  vol.  ii.  p.  460. 

t  The  Reflector,  vol.  2,  p.  139,  on  Greek  and  English  Tra- 


tual :  the  explosion*  of  his  passions  are  terrible  as  a  volcano ; 
they  are  storms  turning  up  and  disclosing  to  the  bottom  that 
rich  sea,  his  mind,  with  all  its  vast  riches :  it  is  his  mind  which 
is  laid  bare.  This  case  of  flesh  and  blood  seems  too  insignificant 
to  be  thought  on ;  even  as  he  himself  neglects  it.  On  the  stage 
we  see  nothing  but  corporal  infirmities  and  weakness,  the  impo- 
tence of  age ;  while  we  read  it  we  see  not  Lear,  bat  we  are 
Lear ;— we  are  in  his  mind ;  we  are  sustained  by  a  grandeur, 
which  baffles  the  malice  of  his  daughters  and  storms ;  in  the 
aberrations  of  his  reason,  we  discover  a  mighty  irregular  power 
of  reasoning,  unmethodised  from  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life, 
but  exerting  its  powers,  as  the  wind  blows  where  it  listeth,  at 
will  on  the  corruptions  and  abuses  of  mankind.  What  have 
looks  or  tones  to  do  with  that  sublime  identification  of  his  age 
with  that  of  the  heavens  themselves,  when,  in  his  reproaches  to 
them  for  conniving  at  the  injustice  of  his  children,  he  reminds 
them  that  "they  themselves  are  old !"  What  gesture  shall  we 
appropriate  to  this  ?  What  has  voice  or  the  eve  to  do  with  such 
things  ?  But  the  play  is  beyond  all  art,  as  the  tamperings  with 
it  show :  it  is  too  hard  and  stony ;  it  must  have  love-scenes,  and 
a  happy  ending.  It  is  not  enough  that  Cordelia  is  a  daughter, 
she  must  shine  as  a  lover  too.  Fate  has  put  his  hook  in  the 
nostrils  of  this  Leviathan,  for  Garrick  and  his  followers,  the 
showmen  of  the  scene,  to  draw  it  about  more  easily.  A  happy 
ending ! — as  if  the  living  martyrdom  that  Lear  had  gone  through, 
the  flaying  of  his  feelings  alive,  did  not  make  a  fair  dismissal 
from  the  stage  of  life  the  only  decorous  thing  for  him.  If  he  is 
to  live  and  be  happy  after,  if  he  could  sustain  this  world's  bur. 
den  after,  why  all  this  pudder  and  preparation — why  torment  us 
with  all  this  unnecessary  sympathy  ?  As  if  the  childish  pleasure 
of  getting  his  gilt  robes  and  sceptre  again  could  tempt  him  to 
act  over  again  his  misused  station, — as  if  at  his  years,  and  with 
his  experience,  any  thing  was  left  but  to  die.' 

K  K  <2 


Lear,  King  of  Britain. 

King  of  France. 

Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Duke  of  Cornwall. 

Duke  of  Albany. 

Earl  of  Kent. 

Earl  of  Gloster. 

Edgar,  Son  to  Gloster. 

Edmund,  Bastard  Son  to  Gloster. 

Curan,  a  Courtier. 

Old  Man,  Tenant  to  Gloster. 



Oswald,  Steward  to  Goneril. 

An  Officer,  employed  by  Edmund. 

Gentleman,  Attendant  on  Cordelia. 

A  Herald. 

Servants  to  Cornwall. 



Regan,        }>  Daughters  to  Lear. 


Knights  attending  on  the  King,  Officers,  Messengers, 
Soldiers,  and  Attendants. 

SCENE— Britain. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.     A  Room  of  State  in  King  Lear's 


Enter  Kent,  Gloster,  and  Edmund. 


I  thought  the  king  had  more  affected  the  duke 
of  Albany,  than  Cornwall. 

Oh.  It  did  always  seem  so  to  us :  but  now,  in 
the  division  of  the  kingdom  1>  it  appears  not  which 
of  the  dukes  he  values  most;  for  equalities  are  so 
weigh'd,  that  curiosity2  in  neither  can  make  choice 
of  either's  moiety  3. 

Kent.  Is  not  this  your  son,  my  lord  ? 

Glo.  His  breeding,  sir,  hath  been  at  my  charge : 
I  have  so  often  blush'd  to  acknowledge  him,  that 
now  I  am  brazed  to  it. 

1  There  rs  something  of  obscurity  or  inaccuracy  in  this  pre- 
paratory scene.  The  king  has  already  divided  his  kingdom, 
and  yet  when  he  enters  he  examines  his  daughters  to  discover  in 
what  proportions  he  should  divide  it.  Perhaps  Kent  and  Glos- 
ter only  were  privy  to  his  design,  which  he  still  kept  in  his  own 
hands,  to  be  changed  or  performed  as  subsequent  reasons  should 
determine  him. — Johnson, 

3  Curiosity  is  scrupulous  exactness,  finical  precision.  See 
vol.  viii.  p.  88,  note  48. 

3  Moiety  is  used  by  Shakspeare  for  part  or  portion.  See 
King  Henry  IV.  Part  I.  p.  189,  note  8. 

380  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Kent.  I  cannot  conceive  you. 

Glo.  Sir,  this  young  fellow's  mother  could: 
whereupon  she  grew  round-wombed ;  and  had,  in- 
deed, sir,  a  son  for  her  cradle,  ere  she  had  a  hus- 
band for  her  bed.     Do  you  smell  a  fault  ? 

Kent.  I  cannot  wish  the  fault  undone,  the  issue 
of  it  being  so  proper4. 

Glo.  But  I  have,  sir,  a  son  by  order  of  law,  some 
year5  elder  than  this,  who  yet  is  no  dearer  in  my 
account :  though  this  knave  came  somewhat  saucily 
into  the  world  before  he  was  sent  for,  yet  was  his 
mother  fair ;  there  was  good  sport  at  his  making, 
and  the  whoreson  must  be  acknowledged. — Do  you 
know  this  noble  gentleman,  Edmund? 

Edm.  No,  my  lord. 

Glo.  My  lord  of  Kent :  remember  him  hereafter 
as  my  honourable  friend. 

Edm.  My  services  to  your  lordship. 

Kent.  I  must  love  you,  and  sue  to  know  you 

Edm.  Sir,  I  shall  study  deserving. 

Glo.  He  hath  been  out  nine  years,  and  away  he 
shall  again : — The  king  is  coming. 

,  [Trumpets  sound  within 


Enter ■  LeAr,  Cornwall,  Albany,  Goneril, 
Regan,  Cordelia,  and  Attendants. 

Lear.  Attend  the  lords  of  France  and  Burgundy, 

Glo.  I  shall,  my  liege. 

[Exeunt  Gloster,  and  Edmund. 
Lear.  Mean  time  we  shall  express  our  darker6 

4  Proper  is  comely,  handsome.     See  vol.  i.  p.  153. 

5  i.e.*  about  a  year  elder.1 

6  '  We  shall  express  oar  darker  purpose;'  that  is,  we  hare 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  381 

Give  me  the  map  there. — Know,  that  we  have 

In  three,  our  kingdom;  and  'tis  our  fast  intent7 
To  shake,  all  cares  and  business  from  our  age ; 
Conferring8  them  on  younger  strengths,  while  we 
Unburdened  crawl  toward  death. — Our  son  of  Corn- 
And  you,  our  no  less  loving  son  of  Albany, 
We  have  thia  hour  a  constant  will 9  to  publish 
Our  daughters'  several  dowers,  that  future  strife 
May  be  prevented  now.    The  princes,  France  and 

Great  rivals  in  our  youngest  daughter's  love, 
Long  in  our  court  have  made  their  amorous  sojourn, 
And  here  are  to  be  answer'd. — Tell  me,  my  daughters 
(Since  now  we  will  divest  us,  both  of  rule, 
Interest  of  territory,  cares  of  state 10), 
Which  of  you,  shall  we  say,  doth  love  us  most? 
That  we  our  largest  bounty  may  extend 
Where  merit  doth  most  challenge  it.— Goneril, 
Our  eldest-born,  speak  first. 

Gon.  Sir,  I 

Do  love  you  more  than  words  can  wield  the  matter,. 
Dearer  than  eye-sight,  space,  and  liberty; 
Beyond  what  can  be  valued,  rich  or  rare ; 
No  less  than  life,  with  grace,  health,  beauty,  honour : 

already  made  known  oar  desire  of  parting  the  kingdom;  we  will 
now  discover  what  has  not  been  told  before,  the  reasons  bj 
which  we  shall  regulate  the  partition.'  This  interpretation  will 
justify  or  palliate  the  exordial  dialogue. — Johnson. 

7  i.e.  our  determined  resolution.  The  quartos  read,  *  first 

8  The  quartos  read,  confirming, 

9  Constant  tot//,  which  is  a  confirmation  of  the  reading  '  fast 
intent/  means  a  firm,  determined  will :  it  is  the  certa  voluntas  of 
Virgil.  The  lines  from  while  we  to  prevented  now  are  omitted  in 
the  quartos. 

10  The  two  lines  in  a  parenthesis  are  omitted  in  the  quartos* 

382  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

As  much  as  child  e'er  lov'd,  or  father  found. 

A  love  that  makes  breath  poor,  and  speech  unable: 

Beyond  all  manner  of  so  much  I  love  you11. 

Cor.    What  shall  Cordelia  do?    Love,  and  be 
silent.  [Aside. 

Lear.  Of  all  these  bounds,  even  from  this  line  to 
With  shadowy  forests  and  with  cham pains  rich'd12, 
With  plenteous  rivers  and  wide-skirted  meads, 
We  make  thee  lady :  To  thine  and  Albany's  issoe 
Be  this  perpetual. — What  says  our  second  daughter, 
Our  dearest  Regan,  wife  to  Cornwall?  Speak. 

Reg.  I  am  made  of  that  self  metal  as  my  sister, 
And  prize  me  at  her  worth 13.     In  my  true  heart 
I  find,  she  names  my  very  deed  of  love; 
Only  she  comes  too  short, — that  I  profess 
Myself  an  enemy  to  all  other  joys, 
Which  the  most  precious  square  of  sense  possesses; 
And  find,  I  am  alone  felicitate 
In  your  dear  highness'  love. 

Cor.  Then  poor  Cordelia !  [Aside. 

And  yet  not  so ;  since,  I  am  sure,  my  love's 
More  richer  than  my  tongue. 

Lear.  To  thee,  and  thine,  hereditary  ever, 

11  '  Beyond  all  assignable  quantity.  I  love  you  beyond  limits, 
and  cannot  say  it  is  so  much;  for  how  much  soever  I  should 
name,  it  would  yet  be  more.'  Thus  Rowe,  in  his  Fair  Penitent, 
Sc.  1 : — 

'  — —  I  can  only 

Swear  you  reign  here,  but  never  tell  how  much.* 
13  i.  «.  enriched.     So  Drant  in  his  translation  of  Horace's 
Epistles,  1567:— 

'  To  ritch  his  country,  let  his  words  lyke  flowing 
water  fall.' 
13  That  is,  'estimate  me  at  her  value,  my  love  has  at  least 
equal  claim  to  your  favour.  Only  she  comes  short  of  me  in  this, 
that  I  profess  myself  an  enemy  to  all  other  joys  which  the  most 
precious  aggregation  of  sense  can  bestow/  Square  is  here  used 
for  the  whole  complement,  as  circle  is  now  sometimes  used* 

SC.  I.      t  KING  LEAR.  383 

Remain  this  ample  third  of  our  fair  kingdom;  - 
No  less  in  space,  validity  w,  and  pleasure, 
Than  that  conferr'd15  on  Goneril. — Now,  our  joy, 
Although  the  last,  not  least ;  to  whose  young  love 
The  vines  of  France,  and  milk  of  Burgundy, 
Strive  to  be  interess'd l6 :  what  can  you  say,  to  draw 
A  third  more  opulent  than  your  sisters  ?  Speak. 

Cor.  Nothing,  my  lord. 

Lear,  Nothing? 

Cor.  Nothing. 

Lear.  Nothing  can  come  of  nothing :  speak  again. 

Cor.  Unhappy  that  I  am,  I  cannot  heave 
My  heart  into  my  mouth :  I  love  your  majesty 
According  to  my  bond ;  nor  more,  nor  less. 

Lear.  How,  how,  Cordelia?  mend  your  speech 
a  little, 
Lest  it  may  mar  your  fortunes. 

Cor.  Good  my  lord, 

You  have  begot  me,  bred  me,  lov'd  me :  I 
Return  those  duties  back  as  are  right  fit, 

14  Validity  is  several  times  used  to  signify  worth,  value,  by 
Shakspeare.  See  vol.  i.  p.  298 ;  vol.  iii.  p.  330.  It  does  not, 
however,  appear  to  have  been  peculiar  to  him  in  this  sense. 
*  The  countenance  of  your  friend  is  of  less  value  than  his  council, 
yet  both  of  very  small  validity.' — The  BeviVs  Charter,  1607. 

14  The  folio  reads,  conferr'd;  the  quartos,  confirmed.  So  in  a 
former  passage  we  have  in  the  quartos  confirming  for  conferring. 
See  note  8,  p.  381.  '  To  confirm  on  a  person  is  certainly  not 
English  now  (says  Mr.  Boswell) ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that 
such  was  the  case  in  Shakspeare's  time.  The  original  meaning 
of  the  word  to  establish  would  easily  bear,  such  a  construction.' 

16  To  interest  and  to  inter  esse  are  not,  perhaps,  different  spell- 
ings of  the  same  verb,  but  two  distinct  words,  though  of  the 
same  import ;  the  one  being  derived  from  the  Latin,  the  other 
from  the  Frenph  interesser.  We  have  inter  ess*  d  in  Ben  Jonson's 
Sejanus: — 

'  Our  sacred  laws  and  just  authority 
Are  interess'd  therein.' 
Drayton  also  uses  the  word  in  the  Preface  to  his  Polyolbton, 

384  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honour  you. 
Why  have  my  sisters  husbands,  if  they  say, 
They  love  you,  all  ?  Haply,  when  I  shall  wed, 
That  lord,  whose  hand  must  take  my  plight,  shall 

Half  my  love  with  him,  half  my  care,  and  duty17: 
Sure,  I  shall  never  marry  like  my  sisters, 
To  love  my  father  all. 

Lear,  But  goes  this  with  thy  heart? 

Cor,  Ay,  good  my  lord. 

Lear.  So  young,  and  so  untender? 

Cor,  So  young,  my  lord,  and  true. 

Lear.  Let  it  be  so, — Thy  truth  then  be  thy  dower : 
For,  by  the  sacred  radiance  of  the  sun : 
The  mysteries  of  Hecate,  and  the  night ; 
By  all  the  operations  of  the  orbs, 
From  whom  we  do  exist,  and  cease  to  be ; 
Here  I  disclaim  all  my  paternal  care, 
Propinquity  and  property  of  blood, 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me 
Hold  thee,  from  this 18,  for  ever.     The  barbarous 

Or  he  that  makes  his  generation 19  messes 
To  gorge  his  appetite,  shall  to  my  bosom 
Be  as  well  neighboured,  pitied,  and  reliev'd, 
As  thou  my  sometime  daughter. 

Kent,  Good  my  liege, — 

Lear,  Peaee,  Kent! 
Come  -not  between  the  dragon  and  his  wrath : 

17  So  in  The  Mirror  for  Magistrates,  1587,  Cordelia  says:— 

' ■  Nature  so  doth  bind  me,  and  compel 

To  love  you  as  I  ought,  my  father,  well ; 
Yet  shortly  may  I  chance,  if  fortune  will, 
To  find  in  heart  to  bear  another  more  good  will : 
Thus  much  I  said  of  nuptial  loves  that  meant.' 

•^8  i.  e.  from  this  time.  19  His  children. 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  385 

I  lov'd  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 
On  her  kind  nursery. — Hence,  and  avoid  my  sight ! — 

[To  Cordelia. 
So  be  my  grave  my  peace,  as  here  I  give 
Her  father's  heart  from  her! — Call  France; — Who 

Call  Burgundy. — Cornwall,  and  Albany, 
With  my  two  daughters'  dowers  digest  this  third : 
Let  pride,  which  she  calls  plainness,  marry  her. 
I  do  invest  you  jointly  with  my  power, 
Pre-eminence,  and  all  the  large  effects 
That  troop  with  majesty. — Ourself,  by  monthly 

With  reservation  of  a  hundred  knights, 
By  you  to  be  sustain'd,  shall  our  abode 
Make  with  you  by  due  turns.     Only  we  still  retain 
The  name,  and  all  the  additions20  to  a  king; 
The  sway, 

Revenue,  execution  of  the  rest21, 
Beloved  sons,  be  yours :  which  to  confirm, 
This  coronet  part  between  you.  [Giving  the  Crown. 

Kent.  Royal  Lear, 

Whom  I  have  ever  honour'd  as  my  king, 
Lov'd  as  my  father,  as  my  master  follow'd, 
As  my  great  patron  thought  on  in  my  prayers22, — 

Lear.  The  bow  is  bent  and  drawn,  make  from  the 

Kent.  Let  it  fall  rather,  though  the  fork  invade 
The  region  of  my  heart :  be  Kent  unmannerly, 
When  Lear  is  mad.  What  would'st  thou  do,  old  man  ? 
Think'st  thou,  that  duty  shall  have  dread  to  speak, 

90  '  All  the  titles  belonging  to  a  king.'  See  vol.  yii.  p.  324 ; 
note  5 ;  p.  375,  note  32. 

31  By  '  the  execution  of  the  rest/  all  the  other  functions  of 
the  kingly  office  are  probabl/  meant. 

33  The  allusion  is  probably  to  the  custom  of  clergymen  pray- 
ing for  their  patrons  in  what  is  called  the  bidding  prayer. 

VOL.  IX.  L  I* 

386  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

When  power  to  flattery  bows  ?  To  plainness  honour's 

When  majesty  stoops  to  folly.  Reverse  thy  doom23; 
And,  in  thy  best  consideration,  check 
This  hideous  rashness :  answer  my  life  my  judg- 
Thy  youngest  daughter  does  not  love  thee  least; 
Nor  are  those  empty-hearted,  whose  low  sound 
Re  verbs24  no  hollowness. 

Lear.  Kent,  on  thy  life,  no  more. 

Kent.  My  life  I  never  held  but  as  a  pawn 
To  wage  against  thine  enemies25,  nor  fear  to  lose  it, 
Thy  safety  being  the  motive. 

Lear.  Out  of  my  sight  f 

Kent.  See  better,  Lear,  and  let  me  still  remain 
The  true  blank56  of  thine  eye. 

Lear.  Now,  by  Apollo,— 

Kent.  Now,  by  Apollo,  king, 

Thou  s wear's t  thy  gods  in  vain. 

83  The  folio  reads, '  reserve  thy  state ;'  and  has  stoops  instead 
of  *  falls  to  folly.'  The  meaning  of  answer  my  life  my  judgment 
is,  Let  my  life  be  answerable  for  my  judgment,  or  I  mil  stake 
my  life  on  my  opinion. 

94  This  is  perhaps  a  word  of  the  poet's  own,  meaning  the  same 
as  reverberates. 

25  That  is,  'I  never  regarded  my  life  as  my  own, but  merely 
as  a  thing  of  which  I  had  the  possession,  not  the  property ;  and 
which  was  entrusted  to  me  as  a  pawn  or  pledge,  to  be  employed 
in  waging  war  against  your  enemies.  '  To  wage,'  says  Bullokar, 
'  to  undertake,  or  give  security  for  performance  of  any  thing/ 

The  expression  to  wage  against  is  used  in  a  Letter  from  Gail. 
Webbe  to  Robt.  Wilraot,  prefixed  to  Tancred  and  Gismand, 
1592: — '  You  shall  not  be  able  to  wage  against  me  in  the  charge* 
growing  upon  this  action.  Geo.  Wither,  in  his  verses  before 
the  Polyolbion,  says: — 

'  Good  speed  befall  thee  who  hath  voag'd  a  task 
That  better  censures  and  rewards  doth  ask.' 

96  The  blank  is  the  marl  at  which  men  shoot.  '  See  better,' 
says  Kent,  *  and  let  me  be  the  mark  to  direct  your  sight,  that  yon 
err  not,!.  :....., 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  987 

Lear.  O,  vassal  1  miscreant! 

[Laying  his  Hand  on  his  Sword. 

Alb.  Corn.  Dear  sir,  forbear. 

Kent.  Do; 
Kill  thy  physician,  and  the  fee  bestow 
Upon  the  foul  disease.     Revoke  thy  gift; 
Or,  whilst  I  can  vent  clamour  from  my  throat, 
I'll  tell  thee,  thou  dost  evil. 

Lear.  Hear  me,  recreant ! 

On  thine  allegiance  hear  me ! — 
Since  thou  hast  sought  to  make  us  break  our  vow, 
(Which  we  durst  never  yet),  and,  with  strain 'd  pride, 
To  come  betwixt  our  sentence  and  our  power 
(Which  nor  our  nature  nor  our  place  can  bear); 
Our  potency  made27  good,  take  thy  reward. 
Five  days  we  do  allot  thee,  for  provision 
To  shield  thee  from  diseases  28  of  the  world ; 
And,  on  the  sixth,  to  turn  thy  hated  back 
Upon  our  kingdom:  if,  on  the  tenth  day  following, 
Thy  banish'd  trunk  be  found  in  our  dominions, 
The  moment  is  thy  death.     Away !  By  Jupiter, 
This  shall  not  be  revok'd. 

37  'As  yon  have  with  unreasonable  pride  come  between  oar 
sentence  and  our  power  to  execute  it;  that  power  shall  be  made 
good  by  rewarding  thy  contumacy  with  a  sentence  of  banish- 
ment/   In  Othello  we  have  nearly  the  same  language  :— 

'  My  spirit  and  my  place  have  in  them  power 
To  make  this  better  to  thee.* 
One  of  the  quartos  reads, '  make  good.' 

28  Thus  the  quartos.  The  folio  reads,  disasters.  By  the  dis- 
eases of  the  world  are  the  uneasinesses,  inconveniences,  and  slighter 
troubles  or  distresses  of  the  world.  So  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  I. 
Act  ii.  Sc.  5 : — 

'  And  in  that  ease  I'll  tell  thee  my  disease* 

The  provision  that  Kent  could  make  in  five  days  might  in  some 
measure  guard  against  such  diseases  of  the  world,  but  oould  not 
shield  him  from  its  disasters. 

388  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Kent.  Fare  thee  well,  king :  since  thus  thou  wilt 
Freedom29  lives  hence,  and  banishment  is  here. — 
The  gods  to  their  dear  shelter  take  thee,  maid, 

[To  Cordelia. 
That  justly  think'st,  and  hast  most  rightly  said! — 
And  your  large  speeches  may  your  deeds  approve, 

[To  Regan  and  Goneril. 
That  good  effects  may  spring  from  words  of  love.— 
Thus  Kent,  O  princes,  bids  you  all  adieu ; 
He'll  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new.  (Exit. 

Re-enter  Gloster;  with  France,  Burgundy, 

and  Attendants. 

Glo.  Here's  France  and  Burgundy,  my  noble  lord. 

Lear.  My  lord  of  Burgundy, 
We  first  address  towards  you,  who  with  this  king 
Hath  rivalPd  for  our  daughter ;  What,  in  the  least, 
Will  you  require  in  present  dower  with  her, 
Or  cease  your  quest  of  love  ^  ? 

Bur.  Most  royal  majesty, 

I  crave  no  more  than  hath  your  highness  offer  d, 
Nor  will  you  tender  less. 

Lear.  Bight  noble  Burgundy, 

When  she  was  dear  to  us,  we  did  hold  her  so; 
But  now  her  price  is  fall'n :  Sir,  there  she  stands ; 
If  aught  within  that  little,  seeming31  substance, 
Or  all  of  it,  with  our  displeasure  piec'd, 

39  The  quartos  read,  *  Friendship/  And  in  the  next  line,  in- 
stead of '  dear  shelter/  'protection.* 

30  That  is,  '  your  amorous  pursuit.1  A  quest  is  a  seeking  or 
pursuit:  the  expedition  in  which  a  knight  was  engaged  is  often 
so  named  in  the  Faerie  Qaeene. 

31  Seeming  here  means  specious.  Thus  in  The  Merry  Wires 
of  Windsor : — '  Pluck  the  borrowed  veil  of  modesty  from  the  so 
seeming  mistress  Page.' 



SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  389 

A.nd  nothing  more,  may  fitly  like  your  grace, 
She's  there,  and  she  is  yours. 

Bur.  I  know  no  answer. 

Lear.  Sir, 
Will  you,  with  those  infirmities  she  owes32, 
Dnfriended,  new-adopted  to  our  hate, 
Dower'd  with  our  curse,  and  stranger'd  with  our  oath, 
Take  her,  or  leave  her  ? 

Bur.  Pardon  me,  royal  sir ; 

Election  makes  not  up33  on  such  conditions. 

Leaf.  Then  leave  her,  sir;  for,  by  the  power  that 
made  me, 
[  tell  you  all  her  wealth. — For  you,  great  king, 

[To  France. 
[  would  not  from  your  love  make  such  a  stray, 
To  match  you  where  I  hate;  therefore  beseech  you 
To  avert  your  liking  a  more  worthier  way, 
Fhan  on  a  wretch  whom  nature  is  asham'd 
Almost  to  acknowledge  hers. 

France.  This  is  most  strange ! 

Riat  she,  that  even  but  now  was  your  best  object, 
Hie  argument  of  your  praise,  balm  of  your  age, 
Vf ost  best,  most  dearest,  should  in  this  trice  of  time 
Commit  a  thing  so  monstrous,  to  dismantle 
$o  many  folds  of  favour!  Sure,  her  offence 
Must  be  of  such  unnatural  degree, 
rhat  monsters  it34,  or  your  fore-vouch'd  affection 

32  i.  e.  owns,  is  possessed  of. 

33  That  is, '  Election  is  not  accomplished  upon  such  conditions/ 
'.  cannot  decide  to  take  her  upon  such  terms. 

34  ' Such  unnatural  degree 

That  monsters  it/ 

n  the  phraseology  of  Shakspeare's  age  that  and  as  were-  con- 
ertible  words.     So  in  Coriolanas  :— 

'Bat  with  such  words  that  are  but  rooted  in 

Your  tongue/ 
lee  Julius  Caesar,  Act  i.  Sc.  2,  p.  283,  note  15.  The  uncommon 
erb  to  monster  occurs  again  in  Coriolanus,  Act  ii.  Sc.  2; —  1 

'  To  hear  my  nothings  monster'  d. 

$90  KING  LEAR.  ACf  I. 

Fall  into  taint35:  which  to  believe  of  her, 
Must  be  a  faith,  that  reason  without  miracle 
Could  never  plant  in  me. 

Car.  I  yet  beseech  your  majesty 

(If  for *  I  want  that  glib  and  oily  art, 
To  speak  and  purpose  not ;  since  what  I  well  intend, 
I'll  do't  before  I  speak),  that  you  make  known 
It  is  no  vicious  blot,  murder,  or  foulness, 
No  unchaste37  action,  or  dishonour'd  step, 
That  hath  depriv'd  me  of  your  grace  and  favour : 
But  even  for  want  of  that,  for  which  I  am  richer; 
A  still-soliciting  eye,  and  such  a  tongue 
That  I  am  glad  I  have  not,  though  not  to  have  it, 
Hath  lost  me  in  your  liking. 

Lear.  Better  thou 

Hadst  not  been  born,  than  not  to  have  pleas'd  me 

France.  Is  it  but  this  ?  a  tardiness  in  nature, 
Which  often  leaves  the  history  unspoke, 
That  it  intends  to  do  ? — My  lord  of  Burgundy, 
What  say  you  to  the  lady?  Love  is  not  love, 
When  it  is  mingled  with  respects  w,  that  stand 
Aloof  from  the  entire  point.    Will  you  have  her? 
She  is  herself  a  dowry. 

Bur.  Royal  Lear, 

Give  but  that  portion  which  yourself  proposed, 
And  here  I  take  Cordelia  by  the  hand, 
Duchess  of  Burgundy. 

35  Her  offence  mast  be  monstrous,  or  the  former  affection 
which  you  professed  for  her  must  fall  into  taint;  that  is,  become 
the  subject  of  reproach.  Taint  is  here  only  an  abbreviation  of 

36  i.e. '  If  cause  I  want/  &c. 

37  The  quartos  read, '  no  unclean  action,'  which  in  fact  carries 
the  same  sense. 

38  i.  e.  with  cautious  and  prudential  considerations.  The  folio 
has  regards.  The  meaning  of  the  passage  is,  that  his  love  wants 
something  to  maxV  \V&  mawskVIj  *. — 

*  WVio  seeVs  fox  wol^b\.v^\qn%\s\j\.Vsn^  ^tog*? 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  391 

Lear.  Nothing :  I  have  sworn ;  I  am  firm. 

„  Bur.  I  am  sorry  then,  you  have  so  lost  a  father, 
That  you  must  lose  a  husband. 

Cor.  Peace  be  with  Burgundy ! 

Since  that  respects  of  fortune  are  his  love, 
I  shall  not  be  his  wife. 

France.  Fairest  Cordelia,  that  art  most  rich,  being 
Most  choice,  forsaken;  and  most  lov'd,  despis'd  f 
Thee  and  thy  virtues  here  I  seize  upon : 
Be  it  lawful,  I  take  up  what's  cast  away. 
Gods,  gods!  'tis  strange,  that  from  their  cold'st 

My  love  should  kindle  to  inflam'd  respect. — 
Thydowerless  daughter,  king,  thrown  to  my  chance, 
Is  queen  of  us,  of  ours,  and  our  fair  France : 
Not  all  the  dukes  of  wat'rish  Burgundy 
Shall  buy  this  unpriz'd  precious  maid  of  me. — 
Bid  them  farewell,  Cordelia,  though  unkind : 
Thou  losest  here,  a  better  where39  to  find. 

Lear.  Thou  hast  her,  France :  let  her  be  thine ; 
for  we 
Have  no  such  daughter,  nor  shall  ever  see 
That  face  of  hers  again : — Therefore  be  gone, 
Without  our  grace,  our  love,  our  benizon. — 
Come,  noble  Burgundy. 

[Flourish.  Exeunt  Lear,  Burgundy,  Corn- 
wall, Albany,  Gloster,  and  Attendants. 

France.  Bid  farewell  to  your  sisters. 

Cor.  The  jewels  of  our  father,  with  wash'd  eyes 
Cordelia  leaves  you ;  I  know  you  what  you  are : 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loath  to  call 

39  Here  and  where  have  the  power  of  nouns.  '  Thou  losest 
this  residence,  to  find  a  better  residence  in  another  place.'  So 
in  Churchyard's  Farewell  to  the  World,  1592 : — 

'  That  growes  not  here,  takes  roote  in  othex  whore' 

392  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Your  faults,  as  they  are  nam'd.  Use  well  our  father: 
To  your  professed40  bosoms  I  commit  him : 
But  yet,  alas !  stood  I  within  his  grace, 
I  would  prefer  him  to  a  better  place. 
So  farewell  to  you  both. 

Gon.  Prescribe  not  us  our  duties. 

Reg.  Let  your  study 

Be,  to  content  your  lord;  who  hath  received  you 
At  fortune's  alms.     You  have  obedience  scanted, 
And  well  are  worth  the  want  that  you  have  wanted  41. 

Cor.  Time  shall  unfold  what  plaited48  cunning 
hides ; 
Who  cover  faults43,  at  last  shame  them  derides. 
Weil  may  you  prosper ! 

France.  Come,  my  fair  Cordelia. 

[Exeunt  France  and  Cordelia. 

Gon.  Sister,  it  is  not  a  little  I  have  to  say,  of 

40  We  have  here  professed  for  professing.  It  has  been  else- 
where observed  that  Shakspeare  often  uses  one  participle  for 
another.  Thus  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2.  p.  55, 
we  have  gulled  for  guiluu/ ;  in  other  places  delighted  for  delight- 
ing, &c.  A  remarkable  instance  of  the  converse  occurs  in  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra ;  where  we  have  all-obeyed  for  all-obey  ing. 

41  Thns  the  folio.    The  quartos  read : — 

'  And  well  are  worth  the  worth  that  you  have  wanted/ 
The  meaning  of  the  passage,  as  it  now  stands  in  the  text,  is, 
'  Yon  well  deserve  to  want  that  dower,  which  you  have  lost  by 
having  failed  in  your  obedience/  So  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  ill. 
Act  iv.  Sc.  1 : — '  Though  I  want  a  kingdom ;'  i.  e.  though  I  am 
without  a  kingdom. 

42  That  is,  complicated,  intricate,  involved,  cunning. 
48  The  quartos  read : — 

'  Who  covers  faults,  at  last  shame  them  derides/ 
The  folio  has : — 

'  Who  covers  faults,  at  last  with  shame  derides/ 
Mason  proposed  to  read : — 

'  Who  covert  faults  at  last  with  shame  derides/ 
The  word  who  referring  to  Time.    In  the  third  act  Lear  says:— 
'  ■  Caitiff,  shake  to  pieces, 

That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming, 
Hast  pT*a\ii>'  &  on  m«&'%  life/ 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  303 

what  most  nearly  appertains  to  us  both.     I  think, 
our  father  will  hence  to-night. 

Reg.  That's  most  certain,  and  with  you;  next 
month  with  us. 

Gon.  You  see  how  full  of  changes  his  age  is; 
the  observation  we  have  made  of  it  hath  not  been 
little:  he  always  loved  our  sister  most;  and  with 
what  poor  judgment  he  hath  now  cast  her  off,  ap- 
pears too  grossly. 

Reg.  Tis  the  infirmity  of  his  age:  yet  he  hath' 
ever  but  slenderly  known  himself. 

Gon.  The  best  and  soundest  of  his  time  hath 
been  but  rash;  then  must  we  look  to  receive  from 
his  age,  not  alone  the  imperfections  of  long-engraft- 
ed condition44,  but  therewithal,  the  unruly  way- 
wardness that  infirm  and  cholerick  years  bring  with 

Reg.  Such  unconstant  starts  are  we  like  to  have 
from  him,  as  this  of  Kent's  banishment. 

Gon.  There  is  further  compliment  of  leave-taking 
between  France  and  him.  'Pray  you,  let  us  hit 
together :  If  our  father  carry  authority  with  such 
dispositions  as  he  bears,  this  last  surrender  of  his 
will  but  offend  us. 

Reg.  We  shall  further  think  of  it. 

Gon.  We  must  do  something,  and  i'the  heat45. 


SCENE  II.  A  Hall  in  the  Earl  of  Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Edmund,  with  a  Letter. 

Edm.  Thou,  nature,  art  my  goddess 1 ;  to  thy  law 
My  services  are  bound ;  Wherefore  should  I 

44  i.  e.  temper;  qualities  of  mind  confirmed  bj  long  habit.  Thus 
in  Othello : — 

' A  woman  of  so  gentle  a  condition.' 

45  We  must  strike  while  the  iron's  hot. 

1  Edmund  calls  nature  his  goddess,  for  the  same  tewm  %» ^w  * 


894  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Stand  in  the  plague*  of  custom ;  and  permit 
The  curiosity3  of  nations  to  deprive4  me, 
For  that  I  am  some  twelve  or  fourteen  moonshines 
Lag  of  a  brother?  Why  bastard?  wherefore  base? 
When  my  dimensions  are  as  well  compact, 
My  mind  as  generous,  and  my  shape  as  true, 
As  honest  madam's  issue  ?  Why  brand  they  us 
With  base?  with  baseness?  bastardy?  base,  base? 
Who,  in  the  lusty  stealth  of  nature,  take 
More  composition  and  fierce  quality, 
Than  doth,  within  a  dull,  stale,  tired  bed, 
Go  to  the  creating  a  whole  tribe  of  fops, 
Got  'tween  asleep  and  wake? — Well  then, 
Legitimate  Edgar,  I  must  have  your  land : 
Our  father's  love  is  to  the  bastard  Edmund, 
As  to  the  legitimate :  Fine  word,— legitimate ! 
Well,  my  legitimate,  if  this  letter  speed, 
And  my  invention  thrive,  Edmund  the  base 

call  a  bastard  a  natural  son:  one  who,  according  to  the  law  of 
nature,  is  the  child  of  his  father ;  but,  according  to  those  of  civil 
society,  is  nullus  filius. 

3  '  Wherefore  should  I  submit  tamely  to  the  plague  (i.  e.  the 
evil),  or  injustice  of  custom?' 

3  The  nicety  of  civil  institutions,  their  strictness  and  scrupu- 
losity.   See  note  2,  on  the  first  scene. 

4  To  deprive  is  equivalent  to  disinherit,  Exhceredo  is  rendered 
by  this  word  in  the  old  dictionaries:  and  Holinshed  speaks  of 
the  line  of  Henry  before  deprived. 

'  How  much  the  following  lines  are  in  character  may  be  seen 
by  that  monstrous  wish  of  Vanini,  the  Italian  atheist,  in  his  tract 
De  Admirandis  Naturae,  &c.  printed  at  Paris,  1616,  the  very 
year  our  poet  died :— "  O  utinam  extra  legitimum  et  connu- 
bial em  thorum  essem  procreatus !  Ita  enim  progenitores  mei  t* 
venerem  incaluissent  ar dentins,  ac  cumulatim  affatimque  generosa 
semina  contulissent,  e  quibus  ego  formae  blanditiam  et  elegantiam, 
robustas  corporis  vires,  mentemque  innubilem,  consequutus 
fuissem.  At  quia  conjugatorum  sum  soboles,  his  orbatus  sum 
bonis"  Had  the  book  been  published  but  ten  or  twenty  years 
sooner,  who  would  not  have  believed  that  Shakspeare  alluded 
to  this  passage  ?  But  the  divinity  of  his  genius  foretold,  as  it 
were,  what  such  an  atheist  as  Vanini  would  say  when  he  wrote 
on  suoh  a  au\>je©C— WwbuTtau* 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  $9$ 

Shall  top  the  legitimate.    I  grow;  I  prosper : — 
Now,  gods,  stand  up  for  bastards ! 

Enter  Gloster. 

Glo.  Kent  banish'd  thus !  And  France  in  choler 
And  the  king  gone  to-night !  subscribed  5  his  power ! 
Confm'd  to  exhibition6!  All  this  done 

Upon  the  gad7! Edmund!   How  now?  what 


Edm.  So  please  your  lordship,  none. 

[Putting  up  the  Letter. 

Glo.  Why  so  earnestly  seek  you  to  put  up  that 

Edm.  I  know  no  news,  my  lord. 

Glo.  What  paper  were  you  reading  ? 

Edm.  Nothing,  my  lord. 

Glo.  No?  What  needed  then  that  terrible  de- 
spatch of  it  into  your  pocket?  the  quality  of  nothing 
hath  not  such  need  to  hide  itself.  Let's  see :  Come, 
if  it  be  nothing,  I  shall  not  need  spectacles. 

Edm.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  pardon  me:  it  is  a 
letter  from  my  brother,  that  I  have  not  all  o'erread ; 
for  so  much  as  I  have  perused,  I  find  it  not  fit  for 
your  over-looking. 

Glo.  Give  me  the  letter,  sir. 

Edm.  I  shall  offend,  either  to  detain  or  give  it. 

5  To  subscribe  is  to  yield,  to  surrender.  So  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  vol.  vii.  p.  422 : — 

'  For  Hector  in  his  blaze  of  wrath  subscribes 
To  tender  objects/ 

6  Exhibition  is  an  allowance,  a  stipend.  See  vol.  i.  p.  112, 
note  5. 

7  i.  e.  in  haste,  equivalent  to  upon  the  spur.  A  gad  was  a  sharp 
pointed  piece  of  steel,  used  as  a  spar  to  urge  cattle  forward ; 
whence  goaded  forward.  Mr.  Nares  suggests  that  to  gad  and 
gadding  originate  from  being  on  the  spar  to  go  about. 

896  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

The  contents,  as  in  part  I  understand  them,  are  to 

Glo.  Let's  see,  let's  see. 

Edm.  I  hope,  for  my  brother's  justification,  he 
wrote  this  but  as  an  essay®  or  taste  of  my  virtue. 

Glo.  [Reads.]  This  policy,  and  reverence  of  age, 
makes  the  world  bitter  to  the  best  of  our  times ;  keeps 
our  fortunes  from  us,  till  our  oldness  cannot  relish 
them.  I  begin  to  find  an  idle  and  fond9  bondage  in 
the  oppression  of  aged  tyranny;  who  sways,  not  as 
it  hath  power,  but  as  it  is  suffered.  Come  to  me, 
that  of  this  I  may  speak  more.  If  our  father  would 
sleep  till  I  waked  him,  you  should  enjoy  half  his 
revenue  for  ever,  and  live  the  beloved  of  your  brother, 
Edgar. — Humph — Conspiracy ! — Sleep  till  I  waked 
him — you  should  enjoy  half  his  revenue, — My  son 
Edgar ! — Had  he  a  hand  to  write  this  ?  a  heart  and 
brain  to  breed  it  in? — When  came  this  to  you? 
Who  brought  it  ? 

Edm.  It  was  not  brought  me,  my  lord,  there's 
the -cunning  of  it;  I  found  it  thrown  in  at  the  case- 
ment of  my  closet. 

Glo.  You  know  the  character  to  be  your  bro- 
ther's ? 

Edm.  If  the  matter  were  good,  my  lord,  I  durst 
swear  it  were  his ;  but,  in  respect  of  that,  I  would 
fain  think  it  were  not. 

Glo.  It  is  his. 

Edm.  It  is  his  hand,  my  lord;  but,  I  hope,  his 
heart  is  not  in  the  contents. 

Glo.  Hath  he  never  heretofore  sounded  you  in 
this  business  ? 

8  '  As  an  essay*  &o.  means  as  a  trial  or  taste  of  my  virtoe. 
'  To  assay,  or  rather  essay,  of  the  French  word  essay er,'  sajs 
Baret ;  and  a  little  lower:  '  To  taste  or  assay  before ;  pr&libo.' 

9  i*  e.  weak  and  foolish. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  397 

Edm.  Never,  my  lord :  But  I  have  often  heard 
him  maintain  it  to  he  fit,  that,  sons  at  perfect  age, 
and  fathers  declining,  the  father  should  he  as  ward 
to  the  son,  and  the  son  manage  his  revenue. 

Glo.  O  villain,  villain  ! — His  very  opinion  in  the 
letter! — Abhorred  villain!  Unnatural,  detested, 
brutish  villain !  worse  than  brutish ! — Go,  sirrah, 
seek  him ;  I'll  apprehend  him : — Abominable  vil- 
lain ! — Where  is  he  ? 

Edm.  I  do  not  well  know,  my  lord.  If  it  shall 
please  you  to  suspend  your  indignation  against  my 
brother,  till  you  can  derive  from  him  better  testimony 
of  his  intent,  you  shall  run  a  certain  course ;  where10, 
if  you  violently  proceed  against  him,  mistaking  his 
purpose,  it  would  make  a  great  gap  in  your  own 
honour,  and  shake  in  pieces  the  heart  of  his  obedi- 
ence. I  dare  pawn  down  my  life  for  him,  that  he 
Hath  writ  this  to  feel  my  affection  to  your  honour11, 
and  to  no  other  pretence12  of  danger. 

Glo.  Think  you  so  ? 

Edm.  If  your  honour  judge  it  meet,  I  will  place 
you  where  you  shall  hear  us  confer  of  this,  and  by 
an  auricular  assurance  have  your  satisfaction ;  and 
that  without  any  further  delay  than  this  very  even- 

Glo.  He  cannot  be  such  a  monster. 

[Edm.  Nor  is  not,  sure. 

Glo.  To  his  father,  that  so  tenderly  and  entirely 
loves  him. — Heaven  and  earth13!] — Edmund,  seek 
him  out;  wind  me  into  him14,  I  pray  you:  frame 

10  Where  for  whereas.  n  The  usual  address  to  a  lord. 

13  i.  e.  design  or  purpose. 

13  The  words  between  brackets  are  omitted  in  the  folio. 

14  '  Wind  me  into  him/  Another  example  of  familiar  expres- 
sive phraseology  not  unfrequent  in  Shakspeare.  See  vol.  iii. 
p.  363,  note  1. 

VOL.  IX.  M  M 


the  business  after  your  own  wisdom :  I  would  un- 
state  myself,  to  be  in  a  due  resolution15. 

Edm.  I  will  seek  him,  sir,  presently;  convey16 
the  business  as  I  shall  find  means,  and  acquaint 
you  withal. 

Glo.  These  late  eclipses  in  the  sun  and  moon 
portend  no  good  to  us:  Though  the  wisdom  of 
nature  can  reason  it  thus  and  thus,  yet  nature  finds 
itself  scourged  by  the  sequent  effects17 :  love  cools, 
friendship  falls  off,  brothers  divide :  in  cities,  muti- 
nies ;  in  countries,  discord ;  in  palaces,  treason ;  and 
the  bond  cracked  between  son  and  father.  [This 
villain  of  mine  comes  under  the  prediction;  there's 
son  against  father:  the  king  falls  from  bias  of  na- 
ture ;  there's  father  against  child.  We  have  seen 
the  best  of  our  time:  Machinations,  bollowness, 
treachery,  and  all  ruinous  disorders,  follow  us  dis- 
quietly  to  our  graves18!} — Find  out  this  villain, 
Edmund,  it  shall  lose  thee  nothing;  do  it  carefully: 
— And  the  noble  and  true-hearted  Kent  banished ! 
his  offence,  honesty ! — Strange !  strange  I      [Exit. 

14  '  I  would  unstate  myself  to  be  in  a  doe  resolution,'  means 
'  I  would  give  all  that  I  am  possessed  of  to  be  satisfied  of  the  truth,' 
So  in  The  Four  Prentices,  Reed's  Old  Plays,  vol.  viii.  p.  92:— 
'  Ah,  but  the  resolution  of  thy  death 
Made  me  to  lose  such  thought.' 
Shakspeare  frequently  uses  resolved  for  satisfied.  And  in  the 
third  act  of  Massinger's  Picture,  Sophia  says  :— 

' I  have  practised 

For  my  certain  resolution,  with  these  courtiers/ 
And  in  the  last  aot  she  says  :— • 

' Nay,  more,  to  take 

For  the  resolution  of  his  fears,  a  course 
That  is,  by  holy  writ,  denied  a  Christian.' 

18  To  convey  is  to  conduct,  or  carry  through. 

17  That  is,  though  natural  philosophy  can  give  account  of 
eclipses,  yet  we  feel  their  consequences. 

18  All  between  brackets  is  omitted  in  the  quartos. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  399 

Edm.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world19 ! 
that,  when  we  are  sick  in  fortune  (often  the  surfeit 
of  our  own  behaviour),  we  make  guilty  of  our  dis- 
asters, the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  :  as  if  we 
were  villains  by  necessity :  fools,  by  heavenly  com- 
pulsion ;  knaves,  thieves,  and  treachers  20  by  spheri- 
cal predominance ;  drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers, 
by  an  enforced  obedience  of  planetary  influence: 
and  all  that  we  are  evil  in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on : 
An  admirable  evasion  of  whoremaster  man,  to  lay 
his  goatish  disposition  to  the  charge  of  a  star21! 
My  father  compounded  with  my  mother  under  the 
dragon's  tail;  and  my  nativity  was  under  ursa 
major;  so  that  it  follows,  I  am  rough  and  lecherous. 
— Tut,  I  should  have  been  that  I  am,  had  the 
maidenliest  star  in  the  firmament  twinkled  on  my 
bastardizing.     Edgar — 

Enter  Edgar. 

and  pat  he  comes,  like  the  catastrophe  of  the  old 
comedy22:  My  cue  is  villainous  melancholy,  with 

19  Warburton,  in  a  long  and  ingenious  note  on  this  passage, 
observes  that  in  this  play  the  dotages  of  a  judicial  astrology  are 

'  intended  to  be  satirized.     It  was  a  very  prevailing  folly  in  the 
poet's  time.  „ 

20  Treachers  is  the  reading  of  the  folio,  which  is  countenanced 
by  the  use  of  the  word  in  many  of  our  old  dramas.  Chancer,  in 
bis  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  mentions  '  the  false  treacher  ;'  and 
Spenser  many  times  nses  the  same  epithet.  The  quartos  all  read 

21  So  Chaucer's  Wife  of  Bath  (v.  6196)  :— 

*  I  followed  ay  min  inclination 

By  rertue  of  my  constellation.' 
Bernardus  Sylvestris,  an  eminent  philosopher  and  poet  of  the 
twelfth  century,  very  gravely  tells  ns  in  his  Megacosmus,  that  :— 

'  In  stellis*  Codri  paupertas,  copia  Croesi 

Incestus  Paridis,  Hippolytiqne  pudor.' 
23  Perhaps  this  was  intended  to  ridicule  the  very  awkward 
conclusions  of  ouf  old  comedies,  where  the  persons  of  the  scene 
make  their  entry  inartificially,  and  just  when  the  poet  wants 
them  on  the  stage. 

400  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

a  sigh  like  Tom  o' Bedlam. — O,  these  eclipses  do 
portend  these  divisions!  fa,  sol,  la,  mi23. 

Edg.  How  now,  brother  Edmund?  What  serious 
contemplation  are  you  in  ? 

Edm.  I  am  thinking,  brother,  of  a  prediction 
I  read  this  other  day,  what  should  follow  these 

Edg.  Do  you  busy  yourself  with  that? 

Edm.  I  promise  you24,  the  effects  he  writes  of, 
succeed  unhappily:  [as  of  unnaturalness  between 
the  child  and  the  parent ;  death,  dearth,  dissolutions 
of  ancient  amities ;  divisions  in  state,  menaces  and 
maledictions  against  king  and  nobles ;  needless  diffi- 
dences, banishment  of  friends,  dissipation  of  co- 
horts 25,  nuptial  breaches,  and  I  know  not  what. 

Edg.  How  long  have  you  been  a  sectary  astro- 
nomical ? 

Edm.  Come,  come;]  when  saw  you  my  father 

Edg.  Why,  the  night  gone  by. 

33  Shakspeare  shows  by  the  context  that  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  property  of  these  syllables  in  solmisation, 
which  imply  a  series  of  sounds  so  unnatural  that  ancient  musi- 
cians prohibited  their  use.  The  monkish  writers  on  musick  say 
mi  contra  fa,  est  diabolus:  the  interval  fa  mi,  including  a  tritomu 
or  sharp  fourth,  consisting  of  three  tones  without  the  interven- 
tion of  a  semi-tone,  expressed  in  the  modern  scale  by  the  letters 
F  6  A  B,  would  form  a  musical  phrase  extremely  disagreeable 
to  the  ear.  Edmund,  speaking  of  eclipses  as  portents  and  prodi- 
gies, compares  the  dislocation  of  events,  the  times  being  out  of 
joint,  to  the  unnatural  and  offensive  sounds  fa  sol  la  mi. 

Dr.  Bumeif. 

34  The  folio  edition  commonly  differs  from  the  first  quarto,  bj 
augmentations  or  insertions,  but  in  this  place  it  varies  by  the 
omission  of  all  between  brackets.  It  is  easy  to  remark  that  in 
this  speech,  which  ought,  I  think,  to  be  inserted  as  it  now  is  in 
the  %e\t,  Edmund,  with  the  common  craft  of  fortunetellers, 
mingles  the  past  and  the  future,  and  tells  of  the  future  only  wbat 
he  already  foreknows  by  confederacy,  or  can  attain  by  probable 
conj  ecture. — Johnson, 

35  For  cohort*  ftome  e&\\at«  t*«&  cowrU* 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  401 

Edm.  Spake  you  with  him? 

Edg.  Ay,  two  hours  together. 

Edm.  Parted  you  in  good  terms  ?  Found  you  no 
displeasure  in  him,  by  word  or  countenance? 

Edg.  None  at  all. 

Edm.  Bethink  yourself,  wherein  you  may  have 
offended  him:  and  at  my  entreaty,  forbear  his 
presence,  till  some  little  time  hath  qualified  the  heat 
of  his  displeasure;  which  at  this  instant  so  rageth 
in  him,  that  with  the  mischief  of  your  person  it 
would  scarcely  allay. 

Edg.  Some  villain  hath  done  me  wrong. 

Edm.  That's  my  fear.  [I  pray  you,  have  a  con- 
tinent26 forbearance,  till  the  speed  of  his  rage  goes 
slower;  and,  as  I  say,  retire  with  me  to  my  lodging, 
from  whence  I  will  fitly  bring  you  to  hear  my  lord 
speak :  Pray  you,  go ;  there's  my  key ; — If  you  do 
stir  abroad,  go  armed. 

Edg.  Armed,  brother?] 

Edm.  Brother,  I  advise  you  to  the  best:  go  armed; 
I  am  no  honest  man,  if  there  be  any  good  meaning 
towards  you :  I  have  told  you  what  I  have  seen  and 
heard,  but  faintly;  nothing  like  the  image  and  horror 
ef  it :  'Pray  you,  away. 

Edg.  Shall  I  hear  from  you  anon? 

Edm.  I  do  serve  you  in  this  business. — 

[Exit  Edgar. 
A  credulous  father,  and  a  brother  noble, 
Whose  nature  is  so  far  from  doing  harms, 
That  he  suspects  none ;  on  whose  foolish  honesty 
My  practices  ride  easy ! — I  see  the  business. — 
Let  me,  if  not  by  birth,  have  lands  by  wit : 
All  with  me's  meet,  that  I  can  fashion  fit.      [Exit. 

26  i.  e.  temperate.    All  between  brackets  is  omitted  in  the 

M  M  $ 

402  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 


A  Room  in  the  Duke  of  Albany's  Palace. 

Enter  Goneril  and  Steward. 

Gon.   Did  my  father  strike  my  gentleman  for 
chiding  of  his  fool  ? 

Stew.  Ay,  madam. 

Gon.  By  day  and  night1 !  he  wrongs  me;  every 
He  flashes  into  one  gross  crime  or  other, 
That  sets  us  all  at  odds :  I'll  not  endure  it : 
His  knights  grow  riotous,  and  himself  upbraids  us 
On  every  trifle ; — When  he  returns  from  hunting,         ' 
I  will  not  speak  with  him :  say,  I  am  sick : — 
If  you  come  slack  of  former  services, 
You  shall  do  well ;  the  fault  of  it  I'll  answer. 

Stew.  He's  coming,  madam ;  I  hear  him. 

[Horns  within. 

Gon.  Put  on  what  weary  negligence  you  please, 
You  and  your  fellows ;  I'd  have  it  come  to  question: 
If  he  dislike  it,  let  him  to  my  sister, 
Whose  mind  and  mine,  I  know,  in  that  are  one, 
[Not  to  be  over-rul'd.     Idle  old  man  2, 
That  still  would  manage  those  authorities, 
That  he  hath  given  away ! — Now,  by  my  life, 
Old  fools  are  babes  again ;  and  must  be  us'd 
With  checks,  as  flatteries, — when  they  are  seen 

Remember  what  I  have  said. 

1  See  vol.  vii.  p.  191,  note  22. 

2  This  line  and  the  four  following  are  not  in  the  folio.  Theo- 
bald observes  that  they  are  fine  in  themselves,  and  much  in 
character  for  Goneril. 

3  I  take  the  meaning  of  this  passage  to  be  '  Old  men  are 
babes  again,  and  mast  be  accustomed  to  checks  as  well  as  flatte- 
ries, especially  when  the  \&\\&t  «x«  %««u  to  be  abused  by  them.' 

SC.  III.  KING  LEAR.  403 

Stew.  Very  well,  madam. 

Gon.  And  let  his  knights  have  colder  looks  among 
you;     . 
What  grows  of  it,  no  matter;  advise  your  fellows  so: 
[I  would  breed  from  hence  occasions,  and  I  shall, 
That  I  may  speak  4 :] — I'll  write  straight  to  my  sister, 
To  hold  my  very  course : — Prepare  for  dinner. 


SCENE  IV.     A  HaU  in  the  same. 

Enter  Kent,  disguised. 

Kent.  If  but  as  well  I  other  accents  borrow, 
That  can  my  speech  diffuse1,  my  good  intent 
May  carry  through  itself  to  that  full  issue 
For  which  I  raz'd  2  my  likeness. — Now,  banish'd 

If  thou  canst  serve  where  thou  dost  stand  condemn'd, 
(So  may  it  come !)  thy  master,  whom  thou  lov'st, 
Shall  find  thee  full  of  labours. 

Horns  within.    Enter  Lear,  Knights,  and 


Lear.  Let  me  not  stay  a  jot  for  dinner:  go,  get 
it  ready.  [Exit  an  Attendant.]  How  now,  what 
art  thou  ? 

Kent.  A  man,  sir. 

Lear.  What  dost  thou  profess  ?  What  would'st 
thou  with  us? 

4  The  words  in  brackets  are  found  in  the  quartos,  but  omitted 
in  the  folio. 

1  To  diffuse  here  means  to  disguise,  to  render  it  strange,  to  ob- 
scure it.  See  vol.  v.  p.  518,  note  6,  and  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
p.  269,  note  6.  We  must  suppose  that  Kent  advances  looking 
on  his  disguise.  This  circumstance  very  naturally  leads  to  his 
speech,  which  otherwise  would  have  no  apparent  introduction. 

3  i.  e.  effaced. 

404  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  U 

Kent,  I  do  profess  to  be  no  less  than  I  seem ;  to 
serve  him  truly,  that  will  put  me  in  trust;  to  love 
him  that  is  honest;  to  converse3  with  him  that  is 
wise,  and  says  little;  to  fear  judgment;  to  fight, 
when  I  cannot  choose :  and  to  eat  no  fish4. 

Lear.  What  art  thou? 

Kent.  A  very  honest-hearted  fellow,  and  as  poor 
as  the  king. 

Lear.  If  thou  be  as  poor  for  a  subject,  as  he  is 
for  a  king,  thou  art  poor  enough.  What  would'st 

Kent.  Service. 

Lear.  Who  wouldest  thou  serve  ? 

Kent.  You. 

Lear.  Dost  thou  know  me,  fellow  ? 

Kent.  No,  sir;  but  you  have  that  in  your  coun- 
tenance, which  I  would  fain  call  master. 

Lear.  What's  that? 

Kent.  Authority. 

3  To  converse  signifies  immediately  and  properly  to  keep  com- 
pany, to  have  commerce  with.  His  meaning  is,  that  he  chooses 
for  his  companions  men  of  reserve  and  caution ;  men  who  are 
not  tattlers  nor  talebearers. 

4  It  is  not  clear  how  Kent  means  to  make  the  eating  no  fish 
a  recommendatory  quality,  unless  we  suppose  that  it  arose 
from  the  odium  then  cast  upon  the  papists,  who  were  the 
most  strict  observers  of  periodical  fasts,  which  though  enjoined 
to  the  people  under  the  protestant  government  of  Elisabeth, 
were  not  very  palatable  or  strictly  observed  by  the  commonalty. 
Marston's  Dutch  Courtezan  says,  *  I  trust  I  am  none  of  the 
wicked  that  eat  fish  a  Fridays.'  I  cannot  think  with  Mr.  Blake- 
way,  who  says  that  Kent  means  to  insinuate  that  he  never  desires 
to  partake  of  fish  because  it  was  esteemed  a  luxury!  and  there- 
fore incompatible  with  his  situation  as  an  h amble  and  discreet 
dependant  The  repeated  promulgation  of  mandates  from  the 
court  for  the  better  observation  of  fish  days  disproves  this.  1 
have  before  me  a  Letter  of  Archbishop  Whitgift,  in  1596,  strictly 
enjoining  the  clergy  of  his  diocess  to  attend  to  the  observance 
of  the  fasts  and  fish  days  among  their  respective  parishioners,  and 
severely  animadverting  upon  the  refractory  spirit  which  disposed 
them  to  eat  ftoah  out  of  fa&  reason  contrary  to  law. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  405 

Lear.  What  services  canst  thou  do  ? 

Kent.  I  can  keep  honest  counsel,  ride,  run,  mar 
a  curious  tale  in  telling  it,  and  deliver  a  plain  mes- 
sage bluntly:  that  which  ordinary  men  are  fit  for,  I 
am  qualified  in;  and  the  best  of  me  is  diligence. 

Lear.  How  old  art  thou  ? 

Kent.  Not  so  young,  sir,  to  love  a  woman  for 
singing ;  nor  so  old,  to  dote  on  her  for  any  thing :  I 
have  years  on  my  back  forty-eight. 

Lear.  Follow  me;  thou  shalt  serve  me;  if  I  like 
thee  no  worse  after  dinner,  I  will  not  part  from  thee 
yet. — Dinner,  ho,  dinner ! — Where's  my  knave  ?  my 
fool  ?  Go  you,  and  call  my  fool  hither : 

Enter  Steward. 

You,  you,  sirrah,  wbere's  my  daughter  ? 

Stew.  So  please  you, —  [Exit. 

Lear.  What  says  the  fellow  there  ?  Call  the  clot- 
poll  back. — Where's  my  fool,  ho? — I  think  the 
world's  asleep. — How  now  ?  whereVthat  mongrel? 

Knight.  He  says,  my  lord,  your  daughter  is  not 

Lear.  Why  came  not  the  slave  back  to  me,  when 

Knight.  Sir,  he  answer'd  me  in  the  roundest 
manner,  he  would  not. 

Lear.  He  would  not. 

Knight.  My  lord,  I  know  not  what  the  matter 
is;  but,  to  my  judgment,  your  highness  is  not  en- 
tertain'd  with  that  ceremonious  affection  as  you  were 
wont;  there's  a  great  abatement  of  kindness  appears, 
as  well  in  the  general  dependants,  as  in  the  duke 
himself  also,  and  your  daughter. 

Lear.  Ha !  say'st  thou  so  ? 

Knight.  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I 
be  mistaken  ;  for  my  duty  cannot  be  silent,  when  I 
think  your  highness  is  wrong'd. 

406  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  Thou  tat  remember'st  me  of  mine  own 
conception ;  I  have  perceived  a  most  faint  neglect 
of  late ;  which  I  have  rather  blamed  as  mine  own 
jealous  curiosity5,  than  as  a  very  pretence6  and 
purpose  of  unkindness :  1  will  look  further  into't. — 
f  But  where's  my  fool  ?  I  have  not  seen  him  this  two 

Knight.  Since  my  young  lady's  going  into  France, 
sir,  the  fool  hath  much  pined  away7. 

Lear*  No  more  of  that;  I  have  noted  it  well. — 
Go  you,  and  tell  my  daughter  I  would  speak  with 
her. — Go  you,  and  call  hither  my  fool. — 

Re-enter  Steward. 

O,  you  sir,  you  sir,  come  you  hither :  Who  am  I, 

Stew.  My  lady's  father.  * 

Lear.  My  lady's  father!  my  lord's  knave :  you 
whoreson  dog !  you  slave !  you  cur ! 

Stew.  I  am  none  of  this,  my  lord ;  I  beseech 
you,  pardon  me. 

Lear.  Do  you  bandy8  looks  with  me,  you  rascal? 

[Striking  him. 

Stew.  I'll  not  be  struck,  my  lord. 

Kent.  Nor  tripped  neither;  you  base  foot-ball 
player.  [Tripping  up  his  Heels. 

5  By  jealous  curiosity  Lear  appears  to  mean  a  punctilious 
jealousy  resulting  from  a  scropuloas  watchfulness  of  his  own 
dignity.    See  the  second  note  on  the  first  scene  of  this  play. 

6  A  very  pretence  is  an  absolute  design.  So  in  a  former  scene, 
'  to  no  other  pretence  of  danger/ 

7  This  is  an  endearing  circumstance  in  the  Fool's  character, 
and  creates  such  an  interest  in  his  favour  as  his  wit  alone  might 
have  failed  to  procure  for  him. — Steevens. 

8  A  metaphor  from  tennis.  '  Come  in  and  take  this  bandy 
with  the  racket  of  patience.' — Decker's  Satiromastix.  '  To  bandy 
a  ball'  Cole  defines  clava  pilam  torquere ;  *  To  bandy  at  tennis,' 
reticulo  pellere.    *  to  bandy  \>V>W  v%  %\S\.  *  txnamnn  idiom. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  407 

Lear.  I  thank  thee,  fellow ;  thou  servest  me,  and 
I'll  love  thee. 

Kent.  Come,  sir,  arise,  away;  I'll  teach  you  diffe- 
rences :  away,  away :  If  you  will  measure  your 
lubber's  length  again,  tarry :  but  away :  go  to :  Have 
you  wisdom?  so.  [Pushes  the  Steward  out. 

Lear.  Now,  my  friendly  knave,  I  thank  thee: 
there's  earnest  of  thy  service. 

[Giving  Kent  Money. 

Enter  Fool. 

Fool.  Let  me  hire  him  too; — Here's  my  cox- 
comb. [Giving  Kent  his  Cap. 

Lear.  How  now,  my  pretty  knave?  how  dost 

Fool.  Sirrah,  you  were  best  take  my  coxcomb. 

Kent.  Why,  fool  ? 

Fool.  Why?  For  taking  one's  part  that  is  out  of 
favour :  Nay,  an  thou  canst  not  smile  as  the  wind 
sits,  thou'lt  catch  cold  shortly9.  There,  take  my 
coxcomb :  Why,  thi$  fellow  has  banish'd  two  of  his 
daughters,  and  did  the  third  a  blessing  against  his 
will :  if  thou  follow  him,  thou  must  needs  wear  my 
coxcomb 10. — How  now,  nuncle  u  ?  'Would,  I  had 
two  coxcombs,  and  two  daughters ! 

9  i.  e,  be  tamed  oat  of  doors  and  exposed  to  the  inclemency 
of  the  weather. 

10  The  reader  may  see  a  representation  of  this  ornament  of  the 
fool's  cap  in  Mr.  Donee's  Illustrations  of  Shakspeare,  vol.  ii. 
'  Natural  ideots  and  fools  have,  and  still  do  accnstome  them- 
selves to  weare  in  their  cappes  oockes  feathers,  or  a  hat  with  a 
necke  and  heade  of  a  cocks  on  the  top,  and  a  bell  thereon.' — Min- 
sheu'*  Dictionary*  1617. 

11  A  familiar  contraction  of  mine  uncle,  as  ningle,  &c.  It 
seems  that  the  customary  appellation  of  the  old  licensed  fool  to 
his  superiors  was  uncle.  In  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Pilgrim, 
when  Alinda  assumes  the  character  of  a  fool,  she  uses  the  same 
language.    She  meets  Alphonso,  and  calls  him  nuncle;  to  which 

408  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  Why,  my  boy? 

Fool.  If  I  gave  them  all  my  living12,  I'd  keep  my 
coxcombs  myself:  There's  mine;  beg  another  of  thy 

Lear.  Take  heed,  sirrah ;  the  whip. 
Fool.  Truth's  a  dog  that  must  to   kennel?  he 
must  be  whipped  out,  when  Lady,  the  brach13,  may 
stand  by  the  fire,  and  stink. 
Lear.  A  pestilent  gall  to  me ! 
Fool.  Sirrah,  111  teach  thee  a  speech. 
Lear.  Do. 
Fool.  Mark  it,  nuncle : — 

Have  more  than  thou  showest, 

Speak  less  than  thou  knowest, 

Lend  less  than  thou  owest14, 

Ride  more  than  thou  goest, 

Learn  more  than  thou  trowest 15, 

Set  less  than  thou  throwest, 

Leave  thy  drink  and  thy  whore, 

And  keep  in-a-door, 

And  thou  shalt  have  more 

Than  two  tens  to  a  score. 
Lear.  This  is  nothing,  fool. 

he  replies  by  calling  her  naunt.  In  the  same  style  it  appears 
the  fools  called  each  other  cousin.  Mon  oncle  was  long  a  term 
of  respect  and  familiar  endearment  in  France,  as  well  as  ma 
tante.  They  have  a  proverb,  II  est  bien  mon  oncle,  qui  le  ventre 
me  comble.'  It  is  remarkable,  observes  Mr.  Vaillant,  that  the 
lower  people  in  Shropshire  call  the  judge  of  assize  •  my  nuncle 
the  judge.' 

13  All  my  estate  or  property. 

13  It  has  already  been  shown  that  brach  was  a  mannerly  name 
for  a  bitch.  See  vol.  iii.  p.  342,  note  8.  So  Hotspur,  in  The 
Second  Part  of  King  Henry  IV.  says : — '  I  would  rather  hear 
lady  my  brach  howl  in  Irish.' 

14  That  is, '  do  not  lend  all  that  thou  hast.'  To  owe  in  ancient 
language  is  to  possess. 

14  To  trow  is  to  believe.  The  precept  is  admirable.  Set  in 
the  next  line  means  stake* 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  409 

Fool.  Then  'tis  like  the  breath  of  an  unfee'd 
lawyer;  you  gave  me  nothing  for't;  Can  you  make 
no  use  of  nothing,  nuncle? 

Lear.  Why,  no,  boy ;  nothing  can  be  made  out  of 

Fool.  'Pr'ythee,  tell  him,  so  much  the  rent  of  his 
land  comes  to;  he  will  not  believe  a  fool. 

[To  Kent. 
Lear.  A  bitter  fool ! 

Fool.  Dost  thou  know  the  difference,  my  boy, 
between  a  bitter  fool  and  a  sweet  fool  ? 
Lear.  [No,  lad;  teach  me. 
Fool.  That  lord,  that  counsel'd  thee 
To  give  away  thy  land, 
Come  place  him  here  by  me, — 

Or  do  thou  for  him  stand : 
The  sweet  and  bitter  fool 
Will  presently  appear; 
The  one  in  motley  here, 
The  other  found  out  there. 
Lear.  Dost  thou  call  me  fool,  boy  ? 
Fool.  All  thy  other  titles  thou  hast  given  away ; 
that  thou  wast  born  with. 

Kent.  This  is  not  altogether  fool,  my  lord. 
Fool.  No,  'faith,  lords  and  great  men  will  not  let 
me ;  if  I  had  a  monopoly  out,  they  would  have  part 
on't :  and  ladies  too,  they  will  not  let  me  have  all 
fool  to  myself;  they'll  be  snatching16.] — Give  me 
an  egg,  nuncle,  and  I'll  give  thee  two  crowns. 
Lear.  What  two  crowns  shall  they  be  ? 
Foot.  Why,  after  I  have  cut  the  egg  i'the  middle, 

16  The  passage  in  brackets  is  omitted  in  the  folio,  perhaps  for 
political  reasons,  as  it  seemed  to  censure  the  monopolies,  the 
gross  abuses  of  which,  and  the  corruption  and  avarice  of  the 
courtiers,  who  went  shares  with  the  patentee,  were  more  legiti- 
mate than  safe  objects  of  satire. 

VOL.  IX.  N   N 

410  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

and  eat  up  the  meat,  the  two  crowns  of  the  egg. 
When  thou  clovest  thy  crown  i'the  middle,  and 
gayest  away  both  parts,  thou  borest  thine  ass  on 
thy  back  oyer  the  dirt :  Thou  had'st  little  wit  in  thy 
bald  crown,  when  thou  gavest  thy  golden  one  away. 
If  I  speak  like  myself  in  this,  let  him  be  whipp'd 
that  first  finds  it  so. 

Fools  had  ne'er  less  grace  in  a  year 1T;    [Singing. 

For  wise  'men  are  grown  foppish  ; 
And  know  not  how  their  wits  to  wear, 

Their  manners  are  so  apish. 

Lear,  When  were  you  wont  to  be  so  full  of  songs, 

Fool.  I  have  used  it,  nuncle,  ever  since  thou 
madest  thy  daughters  thy  mother :  for  when  thou 
gavest  them  the  rod,  and  put'st  down  thine  own 

Then  they  for  sudden  joy  did  weep,     [Singing. 

And  I  for  sorrow  sung, 
That  such  a  king  should  play  bo-peep, 

And  go  the  fools  among1*. 

Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  keep  a  schoolmaster  that  can 
teach  thy  fool  to  lie;  I  would  fain  learn  to  lie. 

Lear.  If  you  lie,  sirrah,  we'll  have  you  whipp'd. 

Fool.  I  marvel,  what  kin  thou  and  thy  daughters 

17  '  There  never  was  a  time  when  fools  were  less  in  favour ; 
and  the  reason  is,  that  they  were  never  so  little  wanted,  for  wise 
men  now  snppl  y  their  place/  In  Mother  Bombie,  a  Comedy,  bj 
Lyly,  1594,  we  find  '  I  think  gentlemen  had  never  less  wit  in  a 
year.'  It  is  remarkable  that  the  quartos  read '  less  wit,'  instead 
of '  less  grace,'  which  is  the  reading  of  the  folio. 

11  So  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece,  by  Heywood,  1608 : — 
'  When  Tarqoin  first  in  court  began, 

And  was  approved  king, 
Some  men  for  sodden  joy  gan  weep, 
And  I  for  sorrow  sing.' 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  411 

are :  they'll  have  me  whipped  for  speaking  true, 
thou'lt  have  me  whipp'd  for  lying;  and,  sometimes, 
I  am  whipp'd  for  holding  my  peace.  I  had  rather 
be  any  kind  of  thing,  than  a  fool :  and  yet  I  would 
not  be  thee,  nuncle;  thou  hast  pared  thy  wit  o'both 
sides,  and  left  nothing  in  the  middle:  Here  comes 
one  o'the  parings. 

Enter  Goneril. 

Lear.  How  now,  daughter !  what  makes  that 
frontlet  *9  on?  Methinks,  you  are  too  much  of  late 
i'the  frown. 

Fool.  Thou  wast  a  pretty  fellow,  when  thou  had'st 
no  need  to  care  for  her  frowning ;  now  thou  art  an 

0  *°  without  a  figure :  I  am  better  than  thou  art 
now ;  I  am  a  fool,  thou  art  nothing.— Yes,  forsooth," 

1  will  hold  my  tongue!  so  your  face  [To  Gon.] 
bids  me,  though  you  say  nothing.     Mum,  mum, 

He  that  keeps  nor  crust  nor  crum, 
Weary  of  all,  shall  want  some. 

That's  a  shealed  peascod21.      [Pointing  to  Lear. 
Gon.  Not  only,  sir,  this  your  all-licens'd  fool, 

But  other  of  your  insolent  retinue 

19  A  frontlet,  or  forehead  cloth,  was  worn  by  ladies  of  old  to. 
prevent  wrinkles.  So  in  George  Chapman's  Hero  and  Leander, 
adfinem  :— 

'  E'en  like  the  foreJiead  cloth  that  in  the  night, 
Or  when  they  sorrow  ladies  us'd  to  wear.' 
Thus  also  in  Zepheria,  a  collection  of  Sonnets,  4 to.  1594 : — 
'  Bat  now,  my  snnne,  it  fits  thou  take  thy  set 
And  rayle  thy  faoe  v/ith  froumes  as  with  a  frontlet.' 
And  in  Lyly's  Enphues  and  his  England,  1580 : — '  The  next  day 
coming  to  the  gallery  where  she  was  solitary  walking,  with  her 
frowning  cloth,  as  sicke  lately  of  the  sullens,'  &c. 
80  i.  e.  a  cipher. 

21  Now  a  mere  husk  that  contains  nothing.  The  robing  of 
Richard  II.'s  effigy  in  Westminster  Abbey  is  wrought  withpeoa- 
cods  open,  and  the  peas  out ;  perhaps  an  allusion  to  his  being  once 
in  full  possession  of  sovereignty,  bat  soon  redaced  to  an  empty 
title.  See  Camden's  Remaines,  1674,  p.  453,  edit,  1651, ^*^ft» 

412  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Do  hourly  carp  and  quarrel ;  breaking  forth 
In  rank  and  not-to-be-endured  riots.     Sir, 
I  had  thought,  by  making  this  well  known  unto  you, 
•  To  have  found  a  safe  redress,  but  now  grow  fearful, 
By  what  yourself  too  late  have  spoke  and  done, 
That  you  protect  this  course,  and  put  it  on22 
By  your  allowance;  which  if  you  should,  the  fault 
Would  not  'scape  censure,  nor  the  redresses  sleep; 
Which  in  the  tender  of  a  wholesome  weal, 
Might  in  their  working  do  you  that  offence, 
Which  else  were  shame,  that  then  necessity 
Will  call  discreet  proceeding. 

Fool.  For  you  trow,  nuncle, 

The  hedge  sparrow  fed  the  cuckoo  so  long, 
That  it  had  its  head  bit  off  by  its  young. 
So,  out  went  the  candle,  and  we  were  left  darkling23. 

Lear.  Are  you  our  daughter? 

Gon.  Come,  sir24, 1  would,  you  would  make  use 
of  that  good  wisdom  whereof  I  know  you  are  fraught; 
and  put  away  these  dispositions,  which  of  late  trans- 
form you  from  what  you  rightly  are. 

82  Put  it  on,  that  is  promote  it,  push  it  forward.  Allowance  a 

33  '  Shakspeare's  fools  are  certainly  copied  from  the  life.  Tbe 
originals  whom  he  copied  were  no  doubt  men  of  quick  parts ; 
lively  and  sarcastick.  Though  they  were  licensed  to  say  any 
thing,  it  was  still  necessary  to  prevent  giving  offence,  that  every 
thing  they  said  should  have  a  playful  air:  we  may  suppose 
therefore  that  they  had  a  custom  of  taking  off  the  edge  of  too 
sharp  a  speech  by  covering  it  hastily  with  the  end  of  an  old  song, 
or  any  glib  nonsense  that  came  into  their  mind.  I  know  no 
other  way  of  accounting  for  the  incoherent  words  with  which 
Shakspeare  often  finishes  this  fool's  speeches/ 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 
In  a  very  old  drama,  entitled  The  Longer  thou  Livest  the  more 
Foole  thou  art,  printed  about  1580,  we  find  the  following  stage 
direction : — '  Entreth  Moros,  oounterfaiting  a  vaine  gesture  and 
a  foolish  countenance,  singing-  thefoote  of  many  songs,  as  fools  were 

94  The  folio  omits  these  words,  and  reads  the  rest  of  the 
speech,  perhaps  ii^hty*  «*  »«t%«. 

SC.  IV.  KINO  LEAR.  413 

Fool.  May  not  an  ass  know  when  the  cart  draws 
the  horse  ?  Whoop,  Jug !  I  love  thee. 

Lear.  Does  any  here  know  me?— Why  this  is  not 
Lear:  does  Lear  walk  thus ?  speak  thus?  Where 
are  his  eyes?  Either  his  notion  weakens,  or  his  dis- 
cernings  are  lethargied.— Sleeping  or  waking? — 
Ha !  sure  'tis  not  so. — Who  is  it  that  can  tell  me 
who  I  am25? 

Fool.  Lear's  shadow,-— 

Lear.  [I  would  learn  that ;  for  by  the  marks  of 
sovereignty,  knowledge,  and  reason,  I  should  be 
false  persuaded  I  had  daughters. 

Fool.  — Which  they  will  make  an  obedient  father.] 

Xe«r.  Yoar  name,  fair  gentlewoman? 

Gon.  Come,  sir; 
This  admiration  is  much  o'the  favour26 
Of  other  your  new  pranks.     I  do  beseech  you 
To  understand  my  purposes  aright :  . 
As  you  are  old  and  reverend,  you  should  be  wise : 
Here  do  you  keep  a  hundred  knights  and  squires ; 
Men  so  disordered,  so  debauch'd,  and  bold, 
That  this  our  court,  infected  with  their  manners, 

25  This  passage  has  been  erroneously  printed  in  all  the  late 
editions.  '  Who  is  it  can  tell  me  who  I  am  V  says  Lear.  In  the 
folio  the  reply, '  Lear's  shadow/  is  rightly  given  to  the  Fool,  bat 
the  latter  part  of  the  speech  of  Lear  is  omitted  in  that  copy. 
Lear  heeds  not  what  the  Fool  replies  to  his  question,  bat  con- 
tinues : — '  Were  I  to  judge  from  the  marks  of  sovereignty,  of 
knowledge,  or  of  reason,  I  should  be  induced  to  think  I  had 
daughters,  yet  that  must  be  a  false  persuasion ; — k  cannot  be— / 
The  Fool  seizes  the  pause  in  Lear's  speech  to  continue  his  inter- 
rupted reply  to  Lear's  question :  he  had  before  said,  '  You  are 
Lear's  shadow;'  he  now  adds, '  which  they  (i.e. your  daughters) 
will  make  an  obedient  father.'  Lear  heeds  him  not  in  his  emo- 
tion, but  addresses  Goneril  with  '  Your  name,  fair  gentlewoman.' 
It  is  remarkable  that  the  continuation  of  Lear's  speech,  and  the 
continuation  of  the  Fool's  comment,  is  omitted  in  the  folio  copy. 

36  i.  e.  of  the  complexion.    So  in  J  olios  CaBsar  :— 
'  In  favour's  like  the  work  we  ha*e  intan&. 

H  tf  2 

414  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Shows  like  a  riotous  inn :  epicurism  and  lust 

Make  it  more  like  a  tavern  or  a  brothel, 

Than  a  grac'd  palace.  The  shame  itself  doth  speak 

For  instant  remedy :  Be  then  desir'd 

By  her,  that  else  will  take  the  thing  she  begs, 

A  little  to  disquantity  your  train : 

And  the  remainder,  that  shall  still  depend27 

To  be  such  men  as  may  besort  your  age, 

And  know  themselves  and  you. 

Lear.  Darkness  and  devils ! — 

Saddle  my  horses ;  call  my  train  together. — 
Degenerate  bastard !  I'll  not  trouble  thee ; 
Yet  have  I  left  a  daughter. 

Gon.  You  strike  my  people ;  and  your  disordered 
Make  servants  of  their  betters. 

x     Enter  Albany. 

Lear.  Woe,  that  too  late  repents28, — O,  sir,  are 

you  come  ? 
Is  it  your  will?  [To  Alb.]  Speak,  sir. — Prepare 

my  horses. 
Ingratitude !  thou  marble-hearted  fiend, 
More  hideous,  when  thou  show'st  thee  in  a  child, 
Than  the  sea-monster29! 

97  i.  e.  continue  in  service.    So  in  Measure  for  Measure  :— 
'  Canst  thou  believe  thy  living  is  a  life, 
So  stinkingly  depending,' 
38  One  of  the  quarto  copies  reads,  '  We  that  too  late  repents 
us.'    The  others, '  We  that  too  late  repents.'     This  may  have 
been  suggested  by  The  Mirrour  for  Magistrates  :— 

'  They  call  him  doting  foole,  all  his  requests  debarr'd, 
Demanding  if  with  life  he  were  not  well  content : 
Then  he  too  late  his  rigour  did  repent 
Gainst  me.'  Story  of  Queen  Cordelia, 

89  The  sea  monster  is  the  hippopotamus,  the  hieroglyphics! 
symbol  of  impiety  and  ingratitude.  Sandys,  in  his  Travels, 
says,  *  that\ie  V\\\ft\hV\i.  vn«  TMAwmWk  his  own  dam.' 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  415 

Alb.  'Pray,  sir,  be  patient. 

Lear.  Detested  kite !  thouliest:  [ToGoneril. 
My  train  are  men  of  choice  and  rarest  parts, 
That  all  particulars  of  duty  know : 
And  in  the  most  exact  regard  support 
The  worships  of  their  name. — O  most  small  fault, 
How  ugly  didst  thou  in  Cordelia  show ! 
Which,  like  an  engine 30,  wrench'd  my  frame  of  nature 
Prom  the  fix'd  place ;  drew  from  my  heart  all  love, 
And  added  to  the  gall.     O  Lear,  Lear,  Lear ! 
Beat  at  this  gate  that  let  thy  folly  in. 

[Striking  his  Head. 
And  thy  dear  judgment  out. — Go,  go,  my  people. 

Alb.  My  lord,  I  am  guiltless,  as  I  am  ignorant 
Of  what  hath  mov'd  you. 

Lear.  It  may  be  so,  my  lord. — Hear,  nature,  hear ; 
Dear  goddess,  hear !  Suspend  thy  purpose,  if  * 
Thou  didst  intend  to  make  this  creature  fruitful ! 
Into  her  womb  convey  sterility ! 
Dry  up  in  her  the  organs  of  increase ; 
And  from  her  derogate31  body  never  spring 
A  babe  to  honour  her !  If  she  must  teem, 
Create  her  child  of  spleen;  that  it  may  live, 
And  be  a  thwart32  disnatur'd  torment  to  her  ! 
Let  it  stamp  wrinkles  in  her  brow  of  youth ; 
With  cadent  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks : 
Turn  all  her  mother's  pains,  and  benefits  3S, 

90  Bj  an  engine  the  rack  is  here  intended.     So  in  The  Night 
Walker,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : — 

♦  Their  souls  shot  through  with  adders,  torn  on  engines* 

31  Derogate  here  means  degenerate,  degraded. 

33  Thwart  as  a  noun  adjective  is  not  frequent  in  our  language. 
It  is  to  be  found,  however,  in  Promos  and  Cassandra,  1578:—. 

.    '  Sith  fortune  thwart  doth  crosse  my  joys  with  care.1 
Disnatured  is  wanting  natural  affection.     So  Daniel,  in  Hymen's 
Triumph,  1623  : — *  I  am  not  so  disnatur'd  a  man.' 

33  '  Pains  and  benefits/  in  this  place,  signify  maternal  cares  and 
good  offices. 

416  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

To  laughter  and  contempt ;  that  she  may  feel 

How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is34 

To  have  a  thankless  child !— Away,  away !    [Exit. 

Alb.  Now,  gods,  that  we  adore,  whereof  comes 

Gon.  Never  afflict  yourself  to  know  the  cause; 
But  let  his  disposition  have  that  scope 
That  dotage  gives  it. 

Re-enter  Lear. 

Lear.  What,  fifty  of  my  followers,  at  a  clap ! 
Within  a  fortnight  ? 

Alb.  What's  the  matter,  sir  ? 

Lear.   I'll  tell  thee; — Life  and  death!    I  am 
That  thou  hast  power  to  shake  my  manhood  thus: 


That  these  hot  tears,  which  break  from  me  perforce, 
Should  make  thee  worth  them. — -Blasts  and  fogs 

upon  thee! 
The  untented35  woundings  of  a  father's  curse 
Pierce  every  sense  about  thee ! — Old  fond  eyes, 
Beweep  this  cause  again,  I'll  pluck  you  out ; 
And  cast  you,  with  the  waters  that  you  lose,. 
To  temper  clay. — Ha!  is  it  come  to  this? 
Let  it  be  so : — Yet  have  I  left  a  daughter, 
Who,  I  am  sure,  is  kind  and  comfortable  ; 
When  she  shall  hear  this  of  thee,  with  her  nails 

34  So  in  Psalm  cxl.  3 : — *  They  have  sharpened  their  .tongue* 
like  a  serpent ;  adder's  poison  is  under  their  lips.'  The  viper 
was  the  emblem  of  ingratitude. 

35  The  untented  woundings  are  the  rankling  or  never  heating 
wounds  inflicted  by  a  parental  malediction.  Tents  are  well 
known  dressings  inserted  into  wounds  as  a  preparative  to  healing 
them.  Shakspeare  quibbles  upon  this  surgical  practice  in  Trot- 
hs and  Cressida:— 

Pair.  Who  keeps  the  tent  now  ? 

Thtr,  The  awr^eoriaVn^  oi  \3&a  ^a.V\*\&t's  wound,' 


SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  417 

Shell  flay  thy  wolfish  visag^t     Thou  shalt  find, 
That  I'll  resume  the  shape  which  thou  dost  think 
I  have  cast  off  for  ever;  thou  shalt,  I  warrant  thee36. 
[Exeunt  Lear,  Kent,  and  Attendants. 
Gon.  do  you  mark  that,  my  lord  ? 
Alb.  I  cannot  be  so  partial,  Goneril, 
To  the  great  love  I  bear  you, — 

Gon.  'Pray  you,  content. — What,  Oswald,  ho ! 
You,  sir,  more  knave  than  fool,  after  your  master. 

[To  the  Fool. 
Fool.  Nuncle  Lear,  nuncle  Lear,  tarry,  and  take 
the  fool  with  thee. 

A  fox,  when  one  has  caught  her, 
And  such  a  daughter, 
Should  sure  to  the  slaughter, 
If  my  cap  would  buy  a  halter; 
So  the  fool  follows  after.  [Exit. 

Crora.37  [This  man  hath  had  good  counsel: — A 
hundred  knights ! 
Tis  politick,  and  safe,  to  let  him  keep 
At  point38,  a  hundred  knights.     Yes,  that  on  every 

Each  buz,  each  fancy,  each  complaint,  dislike, 
He  may  enguard  his  dotage  with  their  powers, 
And  hold  our  lives  in  mercy.]     Oswald,  I  say ! — 
Alb.  Well,  you  may  fear  too  far. 
Gon.  Safer  than  trust  too  far : 

Let  me  still  take  away  the  harms  I  fear, 
Not  fear  still  to  be  taken.     I  know  his  heart : 
What  he  hath  utter'd,  I  have  writ  my  sister; 

36  This  speech  is  gleaned  partly  from  the  folios  and  partly 
from  the  quartos.  The  omissions  in  the  one  and  the  other  are 
not  of  sufficient  importance  to  trouble  the  reader  with  a  separate 
notice  of  each. 

37  All  within  brackets  is  omitted  in  the  quartos. 

38  At  point  probably  means  completely  armed,  and  conse- 
quently ready  at  appointment  on  the  slightest  notice* 

418  KING  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

If  she  sustain  htm  and  his  hundred  knights, 
When  I  have  show'd  the  unfitness, — How  now, 
Oswald  ? 

Enter  Steward. 

What,  have  you  writ  that  letter  to  my  sister  ? 

Stew.  Ay,  madam. 

Gon.  Take  you  some  company,  and  away  to  horse : 
Inform  her  full  of  my  particular  fear ; 
And  thereto  add  such  reasons  of  your  own, 
As  may  compact  it  more.    Get  you  gone ; 
And  hasten  your  return.  [Exit  Stew.]  No,  no,  my 

This  milky  gentleness,  and  course  of  yours, 
Though  I  condemn  it  not,  yet,  under  pardon, 
You  are  much  more  attask'd39  for  want  of  wisdom, 
Than  prais'd  for  harmful  mildness. 

Alb.  How  far  your  eyes  may  pierce,  I  cannot  tell ; 
Striving  to  better,  oft  we  mar  what's  well40. 

Gon.  Nay,  then — 

Alb.  Well,  well ;  the  event  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V.     Court  before  the  same. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  Fool. 

Lear.  Go  you  Gloster  with  these  letters: 
acquaint  my  daughter  no  further  with  any  thing  you 
know,  than  comes  from  her  demand  out  of  the  letter: 
If  your  diligence  be  not  speedy,  I  shall  be  there  be- 
fore you1. 

30  The  word  task  is  frequently  used  by  Shakspeare  and  his 
cotemporaries  in  the  sense  of  tax,  Goneril  means  to  say,  that 
he  was  more  taxed  for  want  of  wisdom,  than  praised  for  mild- 
ness. So  in  The  Island  Princess  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
Qoisana  says  to  Ray  Dias : — 

'  Yon  are  too  saucy,  too  impudent, 
To  task  me  with  these  errors.' 
40        *  Were  it  not  sinful  then,  striving  to  intend, 

To  mar  the  subject  thai  before  was  well?1 
1  The  -woid  there  Va  *&\*  v^mta.  >tawi  <tax  ^Wv  tke  kis$ 

SC,  V.  KING  LEAR.  419 

Kent.  I  will  not  sleep,  my  lord,  till  I  have  de- 
livered your  letter.  [Exit. 

Fool.  If  a  man's  brains  were  in  his  heels,  were't 
not  in  danger  of  kibes  ? 

Lear.  Ay,  boy. 

Fool.  Then,  I  pr'ythee,  be  merry ;  thy  wit  shall 
not  go  slip-shod. 

Lear.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Fool.  Shalt  see,  thy  other  daughter  will  use  thee 
kindly2;  for  though  she's  as  like  this  as  a  crab  is 
like  an  apple,  yet  I  can  tell  what  I  can  tell. 

Lear.  Why,  what  canst  thou  tell,  my  boy? 

Fool. ,  She  will  taste  as  like  this,  as  a  crab  does  to 
a  crab.  Thou  canst  tell,  why  one's  nose  stands 
i'the  middle  of  his  face  ? 

Lear.  No. 

Fool.  Why,  to  keep  his  eyes  on  either  side  his 
nose ;  that  what  a  man  cannot  smell  out,  he  may  spy 

Lear.  I  did  her  wrong3 : — 

Fool.  Can'st  tell  how  an  oyster  makes  his  shell  ? 

Lear.  No. 

Fool.  Nor  I  neither ;  but  I  can  tell  why  a  snail 
has  a  house. 

Lear.  Why? 

Fool.  Why,  to  put  his  head  in ;  not  to  give  it 
away  to  his  daughters,  and  leave  his  horns  without 
a  case. 

says, '  Go  you  before  to  Gloster,'  he  means  the  town  of  Gloster, 
which  Shakspeare  chose  to  make  the  residence  of  the  Duke  of 
Cornwall,  to  increase  the  probability  of  their  setting  oat  late 
from  thence  on  a  visit  to  the,  Earl  of  Gloster.  Oar  old  English 
earls  usually  resided  in  the  counties  from  whence  they  took  their 
titles.  Lear,  not  finding  his  son-in-law  and  his  wife  at  home,  fol- 
lows them  to  the  Earl  of  Gloster's  castle. 

3  The  Fool  quibbles,  using  the  word  kindly  in  two  senses;  as 
it  means  affectionately,  and  like  the  rest  of  her  kmd,  or  after  their 

3  He  is  musing  on  Cordelia. 

420  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  I  will  forget  my  nature. — So  kind  a  father ! 
— Be  my  horses  ready  ? 

Fool.  Thy  asses  are  gone  about  'em.  The  reason 
why  the  seven  stars  are  no  more  than  seven,  is  a 
pretty  reason. 

Lear.  Because  they  are  not  eight? 

Fool.  Yes,  indeed :  Thou  wouldest  make  a  good 

Lear.  To  take  it  again  perforce4! — Monster  in- 
gratitude ! 

Fool.  If  thou  wert  my  fool,  nuncle,  I'd  have  thee 
beaten  for  being  old  before  thy  time. 

Lear.  How's  that? 

Fool.  Thou  should'st  not  have  been  old,  before 
thou  hadst  been  wise. 

Lear.  O  let  me  not  be  mad,  not  mad,  sweet 
heaven ! 
Keep  me  in  temper;  I  would  not  be  mad! — 

Enter  Gentleman. 

How  now !  Are  the  horses  ready  ? 
Gent.  Ready,  my  lord. 
Lear.  Come,  boy. 

Fool.  She  that  is  maid  now,  and  laughs  at  my  de- 
Shall  not  be  a  maid  long,   unless  things   be  cat 
shorter5.  [Exeunt. 

4  The  subject  of  Lear's  meditation  is  the  resumption  of  that 
moiety  of  the  kingdom  he  had  bestowed  on  Goneril.  This  was 
what  Albany  apprehended,  when  he  replied  to  the  upbraidings 
of  his  wife : — '  Well,  well ;  the  event.'  What  Lear  himself  pro- 
jected when  he  left  Goneril  to  go  to  Regan : — 

' Thoo  shalt  find 

That  III  resume  the  shape,  which  thou  dost  think 
I  have  cast  off  for  ever;  thou  shalt,  I  warrant  thee.' 
And  what  Coran  afterwards  refers  to,  when  he  asks  Edmund:— 
'  Have  you  heard  of  no  likely  wars  toward,  'twixt  the  Dukes  of 
Cornwall  and  Albany  ?' 

5  This  ufle  cowgtat  C^vpprenAi  «&&t*wfe&  to  the  females 

KING  LEAR.  421 


SCENE  I.    A  Court  within  the  Castle  of  the  Earl 


Enter  Edmund  and  Curan,  meeting. 

Edm.  Save  thee,  Curan. 

Cur.  And  you,  sir.  I  have  been  with  your  father ; 
and  given  him  notice,  that  the  Duke  of  Cornwall, 
and  Regan  his  duchess,  will  be  here  with  him  to- 

Edm.  How  comes  that? 

Cur.  Nay,  I  know  not :  You  have  heard  of  the 
news  abroad;  I  mean,  the  whispered  ones,  for  they 
are  yet  but  ear-kissing  arguments 1  ? 

Edm.  Not  I ;  'Pray  you,  what  are  they  ? 

Cur.  Have  you  heard  of  no  likely  wars  toward2, 
'twixt  the  Dukes  of  Cornwall  and  Albany  ? 

Edm.  Not  a  word. 

Cur.  You  may  then,  in  time.    Fare  you  well,  sir. 


present  at  the  representation  of  the  play)  most  probably  crept 
into  the  playhouse  copy  from  the  month  of  some  buffoon  actor, 
-who  '  spoke  more  than  was  set  down  for  him/  The  severity  with 
which  the  poet  animadverts  upon  the  mummeries  and  jokes  of 
the  clowns  of  his  time  (see  Hamlet,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2)  manifests 
that  he  had  suffered  by  their  indiscretion.  Indecent  jokes, 
which  the  applause  of  the  groundlings  occasioned  to  be  repeated, 
would  at  last  find  their  way  into  the  prompter's  books,  &c.  Such 
liberties  were  indeed  exercised  by  the  authors  of  Locrine,  &c. 
but  such  another  offensive  and  extraneous  address  to  the  audi, 
ence  cannot  be  pointed  out  among  all  the  dramas  of  Shakspeare. 

1  Ear-kissing  arguments  means  that  they  are  yet  in  reality  only 
whispered  ones. 

3  This  and  the  following  speech  are  omitted  in  the  quarto  B, 

VOX.  IX.  o  o 

422  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Edm.  The  duke  be  here  to-night?  The  better! 
This  weaves  itself  perforce  into  my  business ! 
My  father  hath  set  guard  to  take  my  brother; 
And  I  have  one  thing,  of  a  queasy3  question, 
Which  I  must  act : — Briefness,  and  fortune,  work  !— 
Brother,  a  word;  descend: — Brother,  I  say; 

Enter  Edgar. 

My  father  watches : — O  sir,  fly  this  place ; 
Intelligence  is  given  where  you  are  hid ; 
You  hate  now  the  good  advantage  of  the  night:— 
Have  you  not  spoken  'gainst  the  duke  of  Cornwall? 
He's  coming  hither;  now,  i'the  night,  i'the  haste, 
And  Regan  with  him ;  Have  you  nothing  said 
Upon  his  party  'gainst  the  duke  of  Albany4? 
Advise5  yourself. 

Edg.  I  am  sure  on't,  not  a  word. 

Edm.  I  hear  my  father  coming, — Pardon  me : — 
In  cunning,  I  must  draw  my  sword  upon  you  :— 
Draw :  Seem  to  defend  yourself:  Now  quit  you  well. 
Yield : — come  before  my  father; — Light,ho,  here ! — 
Fly, brother; — Torches!  torches  ! — So,  farewell. — 

[Exit  Edgar. 
Some  blood  drawn  on  me  would  beget  opinion 

[  Wounds  his  Arm. 
Of  my  more  fierce  endeavour :  I  have  seen  drunkards 

3  Queasy  appears  to  mean  here  delicate,  unsettled.    So  Ben 
Jonson,  in  Sejanus : — 

♦  These  times  are  rather  queasy  to  be  touched.— 
Have  yon  not  seen  or  read  part  of  his  book  V 

Queasy  is  still  in  use  to  express  that  sickishness  of  stomach 

which  the  slightest  disgust  is  apt  to  provoke. 

4  Have  you  said  nothing  upon  the  party  formed  by  him  against 
the  Dnke  of  Albany? 

5  i.  e.  consider,  recollect  yourself. 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  423 

Do  more  than  this  in  sport6. — Father!  Father  I 
Stop,  stop !  No  help  ? 

Enter  Gloster,  and  Servants  with  Torches. 

Glo.  >Now,  Edmund,  where's  the  villain  ? 

Edm.Heie  stood  he  in  the  dark,his  sharp  sword  out, 
Mumbling  of  wicked  charms,  conjuring  the  moon 
To  stand  his  auspicious  mistress  7 : — 

Glo*  But  where  is  he  ? 

Edm.  Look,  sir,  I  bleed. 

Glo.  Where  is  the  villain,  Edmund? 

Edm.  Fled  this  way,  sir.    When  by  no  means  he 
could — 

Glo.  Pursue  him,  ho ! — Go  after. — [Exit  Serv.] 
•  By  no  means, — what? 

Edm.  Persuade  me  to  the  murder  of  your  lordship ; 
But  that  I  told  him,  the  revenging  gods 
'Gainst  parricides  did  all  their  thunders  bend; 
Spoke,  with  how  manifold  and  strong  a  bond 
The  child  was  bound  to  the  father; — Sir,  in  fine, 
Seeing  how  loathly  opposite  I  stood 
To  his  unnatural  purpose,  in  fell  motion, 
With  his  prepared  sword,  he  charges  home 
My  unprovided  body,  lanc'd  mine  arm : 
But  when  he  saw  my  best  alarum'd  spirits, 
Bold  in  the  quarrel's  right,  rous'd  to  the  encounter, 
Or  whether  gas  ted8  by  the  noise  I  made, 
Full  suddenly  he  fled. 

6  These  drunken  feats  are  mentioned  in  Maratonta  Dutch 
Courtezan : — '  Have  I  not  been  drunk  for  jour  health,  eat 
glasses,  drunk  wine,  stabbed  arms,  and  done  all  offices  of  pro- 
tested gallantry  for  jour  sake?' 

7  This  was  a  proper  circumstance  to  urge  to  Gloster ;  who  ap- 
pears to  have  been  very  superstitious  with  regard  to  this  matter, 
if  we  may  judge  by  what  passes  between  him  and  his  sop  in  a 
foregoing  scene. 

8  That  is  aghasted,  frighted.  Thus  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's 
Wit  at  Several  Weapons :—'  Either  the  sight  of  the  lady  has> 
gasted  him,  or  else  he's  drank.' 

4&4  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Glo.  Let  him  fly  far  : 

Not  in  this  land  shall  he  remain  uncaught; 
And  found — Despatch9. — The  noble  duke  my  mas- 
My  worthy  arch10  and  patron,  comes  to-night: 
By  his  authority  I  will  proclaim  it, 
That  he,  which  finds  him,  shall  deserve  our  thanks, 
Bringing  the  murderous  coward  to  the  stake; 
He,  that  conceals  him,  death. 

Edm.  When  I  dissuaded  him  from  bis  intent, 
And  found  him  pight  to  do  it,  with  curst  speech11; 
I  threaten'd  to  discover  him :  He  replied, 
Thou  unpossessing  bastard!  dost  thou  think, 
If  I  would  stand  against  thee,  would  the  reposal12 " 
Of  any  trust,  virtue,  or  worth,  in  thee 
Make  thy  words  faith' d  !  No:  what  I  should  deny, 
(As  this  I  would;  ay,  though  thou  didst  produce 
My  very  character l3),  I'd  turn  it  all 
To  thy  suggestion,  plot,  and  damned  practice : 
And  thou  must  make  a  dullard  of  the  world, 
If  they  not  thought  the  profits  of  my  death 
Were  very  pregnant  and  potential  spurs14 
To  make  thee  seek  it. 

9  '  And  found — Despatch. — The  noble  duke,'  &c.  The  sense 
is  interrupted.  He  shall  he  caught — and  found,  he  shall  be 
punished.     Despatch. 

10  i.  e.  chief;  a  word  now  only  used  in  composition,  as  arch- 
angel, arch-duke,  &c.  So  in  Heywood's  If  You  Know  Not  Me, 
You  Know  Nobody : — '  Poole,  that  arch  of  truth  and  honesty.' 

11  '  And  found  him  pight  to  do  it,  with  curst  speech.' 
Pight  is  pitched,  fixed,  settled;  curst  is  vehemently  angry,  hitter. 

'  Therefore  my  heart  is  surely  pight 
Of  her  alone  to  have  a  sight.' 

Lusty  Juventus,  1561. 
'  He  did  with  a  very  curste  taunte,  check e,  and  rebuke  the 
feloe.' — Erasmus's  Apophthegmes,  by  N.  Udal,  fo.  47. 

13  i.  e.  would  any  opinion  that  men  have  reposed  in  thy  trust, 
virtue,  &c.     The  old  quarto  reads,  '  could  the  reposure* 

18  i.  e.  my  hand-writing,  my  signature.  See  vol.  i.  p.  283, 
note.  10 ;  vol.  n.  p.  94,  rote  3. 

14  The  folio  reads, '  poVetAXiV  spvnXs?     K\A  \w  \fc»a  next  line 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  425 

Glo.  Strong  and  fasten'd  villain ; 

Would  be  deny  his  letter  ? — I  sever  got  him. 

[  Trumpets  within. 
Hark,  the  duke's  trumpets !  I  know  not  why  he 

comes : — 
All  ports  111  bar;  the  villain  shall  not  'scape; 
The  duke  must  grant  me  that :  besides,  his  picture 
I  will  send  far  and  near,  that  all  the  kingdom 
May  have  due  note  of  him ;  and  of  my  land, 
Loyal  and  natural  boy,  I'll  work  the  means 
To  make  thee  capable  u. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  and  Attendants. 

Corn.  How  now,  my  noble  friend?  since  I  came 
(Which  I  can  call  but  now),  I  have  heard  strange 

Reg.  If  it  be  true,  all  vengeance  comes  too  short, 
Which  can  pursue  the  offender.  How  dost,  my  lord  ? 

Glo.  O,  madam,  my  old  heart  is  crack'd,  is  crabk'd ! 

Reg.  What,  did  my  father's  godson  seek  your  life? 
He  whom  nfy  father  nam'd  ?  your  Edgar  ? 

Glo.  O  lady,  lady,  shame  would  have  it  hid! 

Reg.  Was  he  not  companion  with  the  riotous 
That  tend  upon  my  father? 

Glo.  I  know  not,  madam : 

It  is  too  bad,  too  bad. — 

Edm.  Yes,  madam,  he  was. 

but  one, '  0  strange  anjl  fastened  villain.'  Strong  is  determined, 
resolute:  Oar  ancestors  often  used  it  in  an  ill  sense ;  as  strong 
thief,  strong  hore,  &o. 

15  i.  e.  capable  of  succeeding  to  my  land,  notwithstanding  the 
legal  bar  of  thy  illegitimacy. 

'  The  king  next  demanded  of  him  (he  being  a  fool)  whether 
be.  were  capable  to  inherit  any  land/  &c. — Life  mid  Death  of  Will 
SomerSy  Sfc. 

O  Ol 

426  KINO  LEAK.  ACT  II. 

Reg.  No  marvel  then,  though  he  were  ill  affected ; 
Tis  they  have  put  him  on  the  old  man's  death, 
To  have  the  waste  and  spoil  of  his  revenues. 
I  have  this  present  evening  from  my  sister 
Been  well  inform' d  of  them ;  and  with  such  cautions, 
That,  if  they  come  to  sojourn  at  my  house, 
I'll  not  he  there. 

Corn.  Nor  I,  assure  thee,  Regan. — 

Edmund,  I  hear  that  you  have  shown  your  father 
A  child-like  office. 

Edm.  Twas  my  duty,  sir. 

Glo.  He  did  bewray  his  practice 16,  and  receivM 
This  hurt  you  see,  striving  to  apprehend  him. 

Corn.  Is  he  pursued? 

Glo.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  he  is. 

Corn.  If  he  be  taken,  he  shall  never  more 
Be  fear'd  of  doing  harm :  make  your  own  purpose, 
How  in  my  strength  you  please. — For  you,  Edmund, 
Whose  virtue  and  obedience  doth  this  instant 
So  much  commend  itself,  you  shall  be  ours ; 
Natures  of  such  deep  trust  we  shall  much  need; 
You  we  first  seize  on. 

Edm.  I  shall  serve  you,  sir, 

Truly,  however  else. 

Glo.  For  him  I  thank  your  grace. 

Corn.  You  know  not  why  we  came  to  visit  you, — 

Reg.  Thus  out  of  season;  threading  dark-ey'd 
Occasions,  noble  Gloster,  of  some  poize 17, 
Wherein  we  must  have  use  of  your  advice : — 

16  'He  did  bewray  his  practice.'  That  is,  he  did  betray  or 
reveal  his  treacherous  devices.  So  in  the  second  book  of  Sidney's 
Arcadia :-—'  His  heart  fainted  and  gat  a  conceit,  that  with  be- 
wraying his  practice  he  might  obtain  pardon.'  The  quartos  read 

ll  i.  e.  of  some  weight  or  moment.  The  folio  and  quarto  B. 
read  prize. 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  427 

Our  father  he  hath  writ,  so  hath  our  sister, 

Of  differences,  which  I  best  thought  it  fit 

To  answer  from  our  home18;  the  several  messengers 

From  hence  attend  despatch.   Our  good  old  friend. 

Lay  comforts  to  your  bosom ;  and  bestow 

Your  needful  counsel  to  our  business, 

Which  craves  the  instant  use. 

Glo.  I  serve  you,  madam : 

Your  graces  are  right  welcome.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     Before  Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Kent  and  Steward,  severally. 

Stew.  Good  dawning1  to  thee,  friend:  Art  of  the 

Kent.  Ay. 

Stew.  Where  may  we  set  our  horses? 

Kent.  I' the  mire. 

Stew.  'Pr'ythee,  if  thou  love  me,  tell  me. 

Kent.  I  love  thee  not. 

Stew.  Why,  then  I  care  not  for  thee. 

Kent.  If  I  had  thee  in  Lipsbury  pinfold  2, 1  would 
make  thee  care  for  me. 

Stew.  Why  dost  thou  use  me  thus  ?  I  know  thee 

Kent.  Fellow,  I  know  thee. 

Stew.  What  dost  thou  know  me  for  ? 

18  That  is,  not  at  home,  bat  at  some  other  place. 

1  The  quartos  read,  '  good  even.*  Dawning  is  used  again  in 
Cymbeline,  as  a  substantive,  for  morning.  It  is  clear  from  vari- 
ous passages  in  this  scene  that  the  morning  is  just  beginning  to 

8  i.  e.  Lipsbury  pound.  '  Lipsbury  pinfold?  may,  perhaps,  like 
LoVs  pound,  be  a  coined  name ;  bat  with  what  allusion  does  not 
appear.  It  is  just  possible  (says  Mr.  Nares)  that  it  might  mean 
the  teeth,  as  being  the  pinfold  within  the  lips.  The  phrase  would 
then  mean,  '  If  I  had  you  in  my  teeth.'  It  remains  for  some 
more  fortunate  inquirer  to  discover  what  is  really  m<&«&t. 

438  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Kent.  A  knave;  a  rascal,  an  eater  of  broken 
meats;  a  base,  proud,  shallow,  beggarly,  three* 
suited3,  hundred-pound,  filthy  worsted-stocking 
knave ;  a  lily-liver'd,  action-taking  knave ;  a  whor- 
son,  glass-gazing,  superserviceable,  finical  rogue; 
one-trunk-inheriting  slave;  one  that  would'st  be  a 
bawd,  in  way  of  good-service,  and  art  nothing 
but  the  composition  of  a  knave,  beggar,  coward, 
pandar,  and  the  son  and  heir  of  a  mongrel  bitch : 
one  whom  I  will  beat  into  clamorous  whining,  if 
thou  deny'st  the  least  syllable  of  thy  addition4. 

Stew.  Why,  what  a  monstrous  fellow  art  thou, 
thus  to  rail  on  one,  that  is  neither  known  of  thee, 
nor  knows  thee? 

Kent.  What  a  brazen-faced  varlet  art  thou,  to 
deny  thou  know'st  me?   Is  it  two  days  ago,  since 
I  tripp'd  up  thy  heels,  and  beat  thee,  before  the. 
king?  Draw',  you  rogue:  for,  though  it  be  night, 

3  '  Three-suited  knave'  might  mean,  in  an  age  of  ostentatious 
finery  like  that  of  Shakspeare,  one  who  had  no  greater  change 
of  raiment  than  three  suits  would  furnish  him  with.  So  in  Ben 
Jonson's  Silent  Woman  :■ — '  Wert  a  pitiful  fellow,  and  hadst  no- 
thing but  three  suits  of  apparel.'  A  one-trunk-inheriting  slave 
may  be  a  term  used  to  describe  a  fellow,  the  whole  of  whose 
possessions  were  confinecl  to  one  coffer,  and  that  too  inherited 
from  his  father,  who  was  no  better  provided,  or  had  nothing 
more  to  bequeath  to  his  snccessor  in  poverty ;  a  poor  rogue  here- 
ditary, as  Timon  calls  Apemantns.  A  worsted-stocking  knave  is 
another  reproach  of  the  same  kind.  The  stockings  in  England 
in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  were  remarkably  expensive,  and  scarce 
any  other  kind  than  silk  were  worn,  even  by  those  who  had  not 
above  forty  shillings  a  year  wages.  This  we  learn  from  Stnbbes 
in  his  Anatomie  of  Abuses,  1595.  In  an  old  comedy,  called 
The  Hog  hath  Lost  its  Pearl,  by  R.  Tailor,  1614,  it  is  said  :— 
•  Good  parts  are  no  more  set  by,  than  a  good  leg  in  a  wooUsn 
stocking*  This  term  of  reproach,  as  well  as  that  of  a  hundred 
pound  gentleman,  occurs  in  The  Phoenix,  by  Middleton.  Action- 
taking  knave  is  a  fellow  who,  if  yon  beat  him,  would  bring  an 
action  for  the  assault  instead  of  resenting  it  like  a  man  of  cou- 

4  i.  e.  thy  titles. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  429 

the  moon  shines;  I'll  make  a  sop  o'the  moonshine5 
of  »you :  Draw,  you  whorson  cullionly  barber-mon- 
ger6, draw.  [Drawing  his  Sword. 

Stew.  Away ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  thee. 

Kent.  Draw,  you. rascal:  you  come  with  letters 
against  the  king;  and  take  vanity7  the  puppet's 
part,  against  the  royalty  of  her  father :  Draw,  you 
rogue,  or  I'll  so  carbonado  your  shanks: — draw, 
you  rascal :  come  your  ways. 

Stew.  Help,  ho !  murder !  help ! 

Kent.  Strike,  you  slave;  stand,  rogue,  stand; 
you  neat  slave8,  strike.  [Beating  him. 

Stew.  Help,  ho !  murder !  murder ! 

Enter  Edmund,  Cornwall,  Regan,  Gloster, 
'  and  Servants. 

Edm.  How  now?  What's  the  matter?  Part. 

Kent.  With  you,  goodman  boy,  if  you  please; 
come,  I'll  flesh  you;  come  on,  young  master. 

Glo.  Weapons !  arms !  What's  the  matter  here  ? 

Corn.  Keep  peace,  upon  your  lives ; 
He  dies,  that  strikes  again :  What  is  the  matter  ? 

Reg.  The  messengers  from  our  sister  and  the 

Corn.  What  is  your  difference  ?  speak. 

5  An  equivoke  is  here  intended,  by  an  allusion  to  the  old  dish 
of  eggs  in  moonshine,  which  was  eggs  broken  and  boiled  in  sallad 
oil  till  the  yolks  became  hard.  It  is  equivalent  to  the  phrases 
of  modern  times, '  I'll  baste  you,  or  '  beat  you  to  a  mummy. ' 

6  Barber-monger  may  mean  dealer  with  the  lower  tradesmen  ;  a 
slur  upon  the  Steward,  as  taking  fees  for  a  recommendation  to 
the  business  of  the  family. 

7  Alluding  to  the  moralities  or  allegorical  shows,  in  which 
Vanity,  Iniquity,  and  other  vices  were  personified. 

8  Neat  slave  may  mean  you  base  cowherd,  or  it  may  mean,  as 
Steevens  suggests,  you  finical  rascal,  you  assemblage  of  foppery 
and  poverty.  See  Cotgrave,  in  Mirloret,  Mistoudin,  Mondinet; 
by  which  Sherwood  renders  a  neate  fellow. 

430  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Stew.  I  am  scarce  in  breath,  my  lord. 

Kent.  No  marvel,  you  have  so  bestirrM  your 
valour.  You  cowardly  rascal,  nature  disclaims  in9 
thee ;  a  tailor  made  thee. 

Corn.  Thou  art  a  strange  fellow :  a  tailor  make 
a  man? 

Kent.  Ay,  a  tailor,  sir;  a  stone-cutter,  or  a 
painter,  could  not  have  made  him  so  ill,  though 
they  had  been  but  two  hours  at  the  trade. 

Corn.  Speak  yet,  how  grew  your  quarrel? 

Stew.  This  ancient  ruffian,  sir,  whose  life  I  have 
At  suit  of  his  gray  beard, — 

Kent.  Thou  whorson  zed10!  thou  unnecessary 
letter ! — My  lord,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  I  will 
tread  this  unbolted11  villain  into  mortar,  and  daub 
the  wall  of  a  jakes  with  him.— Spare  my  gray 
beard,  you  wagtail? 

Corn.  'Peace,  sirrah ! 
You  beastly  knave,  know  you  no  reverence? 

Kent.  Yes,  sir;  but  anger  has  a  privilege. 

Com.  Why  art  thou  angry  ? 

•  To  disclaim  in,  for  to  disclaim  simply,  was  the  phraseology 
of  the  poet's  age.    See  Gilford's  Ben  Jonson,  vol.  iii.  p.  264. 

10  Zed  is  here  used  as  a  term  of  contempt,  because  it  is  the 
last  letter  in  the  English  alphabet:  it  is  said  to  be  an  unneces- 
sary letter,  because  its  place  may  be  supplied  by  S.  Baret 
omits  it  in  his  Alvearie,  affirming  it  to  be  rather  a  syllable  than 
a  letter.  And  Mul caster  says, '  Z  is  much  harder  amongst  as, 
and  seldom  seen.  S  is  become  its  lieutenant-general.  It  is 
lightlie  (i.  e.  hardly)  expressed  in  English,  saving  in  foren  en- 

11  Unbolted  is  unsifted;  and  therefore  signifies  this  coarse  vil- 
lain. Massinger,  in  his  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  Act  i. 
8c.  1,  says  :— 

' I  will  help  your  memory, 

And  tread  thee  into  mortar' 
Unbolted  mortar  is  mortar  made  of  unsifted  lime ;  and  therefore 
to  break  the  lumps  it  is  necessary  te  tread  it  by  men  in  wooden 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  431 

Kent.  That  such  a  slave  as  this  should  wear  a 

Who  wears  no  honesty.     Such  smiling  rogues  as 

like  rats,  oft  bite  the  holy  cords  atwain 
Which  are  too  intrinse12  t' unloose:  smooth  every 

That  in  die  natures  of  their  lords  rebels ; 
Bring  oil  to  fire,  snow  to  their  colder  moods ; 
Renege 14,  affirm,  and  turn  their  halcyon M  beaks 
With  every  gale  and  vary  of  their  masters, 
As  knowing  nought,  like  dogs,  but  following. — 
A  plague  upon  your  epileptick  visage ! 
Smile  you  my  speeches,  as  I  were  a  fool  ? 
Goose,  if  I  had  you  upon  Sarum  plain, 
I'd  drive  ye  Cackling  home  to  Camelot16. 
Corn.  What,  art  thou  mad,  old  fellow? 

19  The  quartos  read,  to  intrench ;  the  folio,  t'intrince.    Per- 
haps intrinse,  for  so  it  should  be  written,  was  put  by  Shakspeare 
for  mtrinsecate,  which  be  has  Used  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra : — 
'  '    '    '     Come,  mortal  wretch, 
With  thy  sharp  teeth  this  knot  intrinsecate 
Of  life  at  once  untie.' 
I  suspect  that  the  poet  meant  to  write  loo  intresse ;  that  is>  too 
intricate,  or  too  much  intrammeiled.    See  Florio  in  r.  intrecdare ; 
or  intrique  for  intricated,  as  we  find  it  in  Phillips's  World  of 

13  See  Petiole*,  Act  i.  Sc.  2,  note  9. 

14  To  renege  is  to  deny.  See  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Sc.  1, 
note  1. 

19  The  bird  called  the  kingfisher,  which,  when  dried  and  hung 
up  by  a  thread,  is  supposed  I  to  turn  his  bill  to  the  point  from 
whence  the  wind  blows.   So  in  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  1693 : 

'But  how  now  stands  the  wind  ? 

Into  what  corner  peers  my  halcyon's  bUL* 

'  A  lyfle  byrde  called  the  Kings  Fysher,  being  hanged  up  in  the 
ayre  by  the  neck,  his  nebbe  or  byll  wyll  be  always  direct  or 
strayght  against  ye  winde.' — Booh  of  Notable  Things, 

16  In  Somersetshire,  near  Camelot,  are  many  large  moors, 
where  ate  bred  great  quantities  of  geese.  It  was  the  place 
where  the  romances  say  King  Arthur  kept  his  cwart.  ia.i&fc  ^*«&« 

492  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Glo.  How  fell  you  out? 

Say  that 

Kent.  No  contraries  hold  more  antipathy  *. 
Than  I  and  such  a  knave 17. 

Corn.  Why  dost  thou  call  him  knave?  What's 
his  offence? 

Kent.  His  countenance  likes  me  not18. 

Corn.  No  more,  perchance,  does  mine,  or  his, 
or  hers. 

Kent.  Sir,  'tis  my  occupation  to  be  plain ; 
I  have  seen  better  faces  in  my  time, 
Than  stands  on  any  shoulder  that  I  see 
Before  me  at  this  instant. 

Corn.  This  is  some  fellow, 

Who,  having  been  prais'd  for  bluntness,  doth  affect 
A  saucy  roughness ;  and  constrains  the  garb, 
Quite  from  his  nature19;  He  cannot  flatter,  he! — 
An  honest  mind  and  plain,— he  must  speak  truth: 
An  they  will  take  it,  so;  if  not,  he's  plain. 
These  kind  of  knaves  I  know,  which  in  this  plainness 
Harbour  more  crafty  and  more  corrupter  ends, 
Than  twenty  silly20  ducking  observants, 
That  stretch  their  duties  nicely. 

Kent.  Sir,  in  good  sooth,  in  sincere  verity, 
Under  the  allowance  of  your  grand  aspect, 
Whose  influence,  like  the  wreath  of  radiant  fire 
On- flickering21  Phoebus'  front, — 

17  Hence  Pope's  expression  :— 

'  The  strong  antipathy  of  good  to  bad.' 

18  i.  e.  pleases  me  not. 

19  '  Forces  his  outside,  or  his  appearance,  to  something  totally 
different  from  his  natural  disposition.' 

20  Silly,  or  rather  sely,  is  simple  or  rnstick.  See  vol.  ix. 
p.  123,  note  7.  Nicely  here  is  with  scrupulous  nicety,  punctilious 

21  This  expressive  word  is  now  only  applied  to  the  motion  and 
scintillation  of  flame.  Dr.  Johnson  says  that  it  means  to  flutter, 
which  is  ceYtataA^  oua  tf  vis  oldest  meanings,  it  being  used  in 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  433 

•'    Corn,  What  mean'st  by  this? 

Kent.  To  go  out  of  my  dialect,  which  you  dis- 
commend so  much.  I  know,  sir,  I  am  no  flatterer: 
he  that  beguiled  you,  in  a  plain  accent,  was  a  plain 
knave ;  which,  for  my  part,  I  will  not  be,  though  I 
should  win  your  displeasure  to  entreat  me  to  it22. 
Corn.  -What  was  the  offence  you  gave  him? 

Stew.  I  never  gave  him  any : 

It  pleas'd  the  king  his  master,  very  late, 
To  strike  at  me,  upon  his  misconstruction : 
When  he,  conjunct,  and  flattering  his  displeasure, 
Tripp'd  me  behind ;  being  down,  insulted,  rail'd, 
And  put  upon  hhn  such  a  deal  of  man, 
That  worthy'd  him,  got  praises  of  the  king 
For  him  attempting  who  was  self-subdu'd ; 
And,  in  the  fleshment23  of  this  dread  exploit, 
Drew  on  me  here  again. 

Kent.  None  of  these  rogues,  and  cowards, 

But  Ajax  is  their  fool24. 

Corn.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks,  ho ! 

that  sense  by  Chaucer.     Bat  its  application  is  more  properly 
made  to  the  fluctuating  scintillations  of  flame  or  light.     In  The 
Cuckoo,  by  Nicols,  1607,  we  have  it  applied  to  the  eye : — 
'  Their  soft  maiden  voice  and  flickering  eye.' 

n  '  Thongh  I  should  win  yon,  displeased  as  you  now  are,  to 
like  me  so  well  as  to  entreat  me  to  be  a  knave.' 

33  A  young  soldier  is  said  to  flesh  his  sword  the  first  time  he 
draws  blood  with  it.  Fleshment,  therefore,  is  here  metaphori- 
cally applied  to  the  first  act  of  service,  which  Kent,  in  his  new 
capacity,  had  performed  for  his  master ;  and  at  the  same  time, 
in  a  sarcastic  sense,  as  though  he  had  esteemed  it  an  heroic  ex- 
ploit to  trip  a  man  behind  who  was  actually  falling. 

34  i.e.  Ajax  is  a  fool  to  them.  '  These  rogues  and  cowards 
talk  in  such  a  boasting  strain  that,  if  we  were  to  credit  their  ac- 
count of  themselves,  Ajax  would  appear  a  person  of  no  prowess 
when  compared  to  them.1     So  in  King  Henry  VIII. : — 

' now  this  mask 

Was  cry'd  incomparable,  and  the  ensuing  night 
Made  it  a  fool  and  beggar.' 

VOL.  IX.  P  P 

434  KlU G  LEAR.  ACT  IL 

You  stubborn  ancient  knave,  you  reverend  braggart,  {  ] 
"We'll  teach  you — 

Kent.  Sir,  I  am  too  old  to  learn: 

Call  not  your  stocks  for  me:  I  serve  the  king ; 
On  whose  employment  I  was  sent  to  you : 
You  shall  do  small  respect,  show  too  bold  malice 
Against  the  grace  and  person  of  my  master, 
Stocking  his  messenger. 

Corn.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks: 

As  I've  life  and  honour,  mere  shall  he  sit  till  noon. 

Reg.  Till  noon!  till  night,  my  lord ;  andallnigbt 

Kent.  Why,  madam,  if  I  were  your  father's  dog, 
You  should  not  use  me  so. 

Reg.  Sir,  being  his  knave,  I  will. 

[Stocks  brought  out. 

Corn.  This  is  a  fellow  of  the  selfsame  colour 
Our  sister  speaks  of: — Come,    bring  away  the 

Glo.  Let  me  beseech  your  grace  not  to  do  so : 
His  fault  is  much,  and  the  good  king  his  master 
Will  check  him  for't :  your  purposed  low  correction 
Is  such,  as  basest  and  contemned'st  wretches, 
For  pilferings  and  most  common  trespasses, 
Are  punish'd  with :  the  king  must  take  it  ill, 
That  he, — so  slightly  valu'd  in  his  messenger, 
— Should  have  him  thus  restrain'd. 

Corn.  Ill  answer  that 

Reg.  My  sister  may  receive  it  much  more  worse, 
To  have  her  gentleman  abus'd,  assaulted, 

85  This  kind  of  exhibition  was  familiar  to  the  ancient  stage. 
In  Hick  Scorner,  which  was  printed  in  the  reign  of  Henrj  VIII* 
Pity  is  put  into  the  stocks,  and  left  there  until  he  is  freed  by 
Perseverance  and  Contemplacyon. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  formerly  in  great  houses,  as 
lately  in  some  colleges,  there  were  moveable  stocks  for  the  cor- 
rection of  the  servants. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  435 

For  following  her  affairs. — Put  in  his  legs. — 

[Kent  is  put  in  the  Stock. 
Come,  my  good  lord ;  away. 

[Exeunt  Regan  and  Cornwall. 
Glo.  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  friend ;  'tis  the  duke's 

Whose  disposition,  all  the  world  well  knows, 
Will  not  be  rubb'd,  nor  stopp'd26;  I'll  entreat  for 

Kent.  'Pray,  do  not,  sir :  I  haye  watch'd,  and 

travelPd  hard; 
Some  time  I  shall  sleep  out,  the  rest  111  whistle* 
A  good  man's  fortune  may  grow  out  at  heels: 
Give  you  good  morrow ! 

Glo.  The  duke's  to  blame  in  this;  'twill  be  ill 

taken.  [Exit. 

•    Kent.  Good  king,  that  must  approve  the  common 

Thou  out  of  heaven's  benediction  com'st 
To  the  warm  sun ! 

Approach,  thou  beacon  to  this  under  globe, 
That  by  thy  comfortable  beams  I  may 
Peruse  this  letter! — Nothing  almost  sees  miracles, 
But  misery; — I  know  'tis  from  Cordelia; 
Who  hath  most  fortunately  been  inform'd 
Of  my  obscured  course ;  and  shall  find  time 
Prom  this  enormous  state,—- seeking, — to  give 
Losses   their  remedies28: — All  weary  and  o'er- 


98  A  metaphor  from  bowling. 

17  The  saw,  or  proverb  alluded  to,  is  in  Heywood's  Dialogues 
on  Proverbs,  b.  ii.  o.  v. : — 

'  In  your  running  from  him  to  me  ye  nmne 
Out  of  Geo"*  blessing  into  the  warms  stums*   • 
i.  e.  from  good  to  worse.     Kent  was  thinking  of  the  king  being 
likely  to  receive  a  worse  reception  from  Regan  than  that  which 
he  had  already  experienced  from  Goneril. 

*  How  much  has  been  written  about  th\a  ^%&«t%«,  ta^Wi 

436  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Take  vantage,  heavy  eyes,  not  to  behold 
This  shameful  lodging. 

Fortune,  good  night;    smile  once  more;  turn  thy 
wheel !  [He  sleeps. 

SCENE  III.     A  Part  of  the  Heath. 

Enter  Edgar. 

Edg.  I  heard  myself  proclaimed ; 
And,  by  the  happy  hollow  of  a  tree, 
Escap'd  the  hunt.     No  port  is  free ;  no  place, 
That  guard,  and  most  unusual  vigilance, 
Does  not  attend  my  taking.     While  I  may  scape, 
I  will  preserve  myself:  and  am  bethought 
To  take  the  basest  and  most  poorest  shape, 
That  ever  penury,  in  contempt  of  man, 
Brought  near  to  beast :  my  face  I'll  grime  with  filth ; 
Blanket  my  loins ;  elf  all  my  hair  in  knots 1 ; 
And  with  presented  nakedness  outface 
The  winds, /and  persecutions  of  the  sky. 
The  country  gives  me  proof  and  precedent 
Of  Bedlam  beggars  2,  who,  with  roaring  voices, 

much  it  has  been  mistaken !  Its  evident  meaning  appears  to  me 
to  be  as  follows: — Kent  addresses  the  son,  for  whose  rising  be 
is  impatient,  that  he  maj  read  Cordelia's  letter.  '  Nothing  (says 
he)  almost  sees  miracles,  bat  misery :  I  know  this  letter  which  I 
hold  in  my  hand  is  from  Cordelia ;  who  hath  most  fortunately 
been  informed  of  my  disgrace  and  wandering  in  disguise :  and 
who  seeking  it,  shall  find  time  (i.  e.  opportunity)  out  of  this 
enormous  (i.  e.  disordered,  unnatural)  state  of  things,  to  give 
losses  their  remedies ;  to  restore  her  father  to  his  kingdom,  her- 
self to  his  love,  and  me  to  his  favour/ 

1  Hair  thus  knotted  was  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  elves  and 
fairies  in  the  night.    So  in  Romeo  and  Juliet : — 

'  —  plats  the  manes  of  horses  in  the  night, 
And  bakes  the  elf-locks  in  foul  sluttish  hairs, 
Which,  once  untangled,  much  misfortune  bodes.' 

3  Aubrey,  in  his  MS.  Remaines  of  Gentilisme  and  Judaisme, 
Part  in.  p.  234,  b.  (MS.  Lansdowne,  226),  says : — '  Before  the 
civil  warn,  1  xememtat  Tom  a  JWUanvs  went  about  begging. 

SC,  III.  KING  LEAR.  437 

Strike  in  their  numb'd  and  mortified  bare  arms 
Pins,  wooden  pricks  3,  nails,  sprigs  of  rosemary ; 
And  with  this  horrible  object,  from  low  farms, 
Poor  pelting4  Tillages,  sheep-cotes  and  mills, 
Sometime  with  lunatick  bans5,  sometime  with  prayers, 
Enforce  their  charity., — Poor  Turlygood"!    poor 

That's  something  yet ;  Edgar  I  nothing  am.  [Exit. 

They  had  been  such  as  had  been  in  Bedlam,  and  come  to  some 
degree  of  sobernesse ;  and  when  thej  were  licenced  to  goe  oat, 
they  had  on  their  left  arme  an  armilla  of  tinne  printed,  of  about 
three  inches  breadth,  which  was  sodered  on.'— If.  Ellis, 

Handle  Holme,  in  bis  Academy  of  Arms  and  Blazon,  b.  iii. 
c.  3,  gives  the  following  description  of  a  class  of  vagabonds 
feigning  themselves  mad : — '  The  Bedlam  is  in  the  same  garb, 
with  a  long  staff,  and  a  cow  or  ox-horn  by  his  side ;  bat  his 
cloathing  is  more  fantastick  and  ridiculous ;  for  being  a  mad- 
man, he  is  madly  decked  and  dressed  all  over  with  rubins, 
feathers,  cuttings  of  cloth,  and  what  not;  to  make  him  seem  a 
Bad-man,  or  one  distracted,  when  he  is  no  other  than  a  dissem- 
bling knave.1 

In  The  Bell-Man  of  London,  by  Decker,  5  th  edit  1640,  is 
another  account  of  one  of  these  characters,  under  the  title  of 
Abraham  Man: — '  He  sweares  he  hath  been  in  Bedlam,  and  will 
talke  frantickely  of  purpose :  you  see  pinnes  stuck  in  sundry 
places  of  his  naked  flesh,  especially  in  his  armes,  which  paine  he 
gladly  puts  himselfe  to,  only  to  make  you  believe  he  is  out  of  his 
wits.  He  calls  himselfe  by  the  name  of  Poore  Tom,  and,  coming 
near  any  body,  cries  out,  Poor  Tom  is  a-cold.  Of  these  Abraham- 
men  some  he  exceeding  merry,  and  doe  nothing  but  sing  songs 
fashioned  out  of  their  own  braines :  some  will  dance,  others  will 
doe  nothing  but  either  laugh  or  weepe :  others  are  dogged,  and 
so  sullen  both  in  looke  and  speech,  that  spying  but  a  small  com- 
pany in  a  house  they  boldly  and  bluntly  enter,  compelling  the 
servants  through  feare  to  give  them  what  they  demand.'  It  is 
propable,  as  Steevens  remarks,  that  to  sham  Abraham,  a  cant 
term  still  in  use  among  sailors  and  the  vulgar,  may  have  this 

3  i.  e.  skewers :  the  euonymus,  or  spindle  tree,  of  which  the 
best  skewers  are  made,  is  called  prkhwood, 

4  Paltry.    Vide  vol.  ii.  p.  238,  note  4.  •  Curses. 

6  Turlygood,  an  English  corruption  of  turluru,  Ital. ;  or  ture- 
lureau,  Fr. ;  both,  among  other  things,  signifying  a  fool  or  mad- 
man.   Jt  would  perhaps  be  difficult  to  decifa  m\k  wtNaasfcVj 

P  P^ 

438  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

SCEttE  IV.    Before  Gloster's  Castle1. 

Enter  Lear,  Fool,  and  Gentleman. 

Lear.  Tis  strange,  that  they  should  so  depart 
from  home, 
And  not  send  back  my  messenger. 

Gent.  As  I  learn'd, 

The  night  before  there  was  no  purpose  in  them 
Of  this  remove. 

Kent.  Hail  to  thee,  noble  master! 

Lear.  How! 
Mak'st  thou  this  shame  thy  pastime  ? 

Kent.  No,  my  lord. 

Fool.  Ha,  ha ;  look !  he  wears  cruel 2  garters ! 
Horses  are  tied  by  the  heads ;  dogs,  and  bears,  by 
the  neck;  monkeys  by  the  loins,  and  men  by  the 
legs:  when  a  man  is  over-lusty  at  legs,  then  he 
wears  wooden  nether-stocks  3. 

Lear.  What's  he,  that  hath  so  much  thy  place 
To  set  thee  here  ? 

whether  those  words  are  corruptions  o(  turlupino  and  turlupin; 
bat  at  least  it  seems  probable.  The  Turlupins  were  a  fanatical 
sect,  which  overran  the  continent  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth 
centuries,  calling  themselves  Beghards  or  Beghins.  Their  man- 
ners and  appearance  exhibited  the  strongest  indications  of  lunacy 
and  distraction ;  and  their  popular  name,  Turlupins,  was  probably 
derived  from  the  wolfish  bowlings  they  made  in  their  fits  of  reli- 
gious raving.  Genebrard  thus  describes  them : — '  Turlupin  cy- 
nicorum  sectam  suscitantes,  de  nuditate  pudendorum,  et  publico 
coitu.'  It  has  not  been  remarked  that  Cotgrave  interprets  '  Mon 
Turelureau,  My  Pillicock,  my  pretty  knave.' 

1  See  note  1,  Act  i.  Sc.  v.  p.  418,  ante. 

3  A  quibble  on  crewell,  i.  e.  worsted.     So  in  The  Two  Angry 
Women  of  Abingdon  :— 

' I'll  warrant  you,"  he'll  have 

His  cruell  garters  cross  about  the  knee.' 

3  The  o\d  ■woifli  fox  %Wi\\^« 

SC.  IT.  KING  LEAR.  439 

Kent,  It  is  both  he  and  she, 

Your  son  and  daughter. 

Lear.  No. 

Kent.  Yes. 

Lear.  No,  I  say. 

Kent.  I  say,  yea. 

Lear.  No,  no ;  they  would  not. 

Kent.  Yes,  they  have. 

Lear.  By  Jupiter,  I  swear,  no. 

Kent.  By  Juno,  I  swear,  ay4. 

Lear.  They  durst  not  do't; 
They  could  not,  would  not  do't;   'tis  worse  than 

To  do,  upon  respect,  such  violent  outrage5: 
Resolve  me,  with  all  modest  haste,  which  way 
Thou  might'st  deserve,  or  they  impose,  this  usage, 
Coming  from  us. 

Kent.  My  lord,  when  at  their  home 

I  did  commend  your  highness'  letters  to  them, 
Ere  I  was  risen  from  the  place  that  show'd 
My  duty  kneeling,  came  there  a  reeking  post, . 
Stew'd  in  his  haste,  half  breathless,  panting  forth, 
From  Goneril  his  mistress,  salutations : 

4  This  dialogue  being  taken  partly  from  the  folio  and  partly 
from  the  quarto,  is  left  without  any  metrical  division,  as  it  was 
not  probably  all  intended  to  be  preserved. 

5  '  To  do,  upon  respect,  such  violent  outrage/  I  think,  means 
'  to  do  such  violent  outrage  deliberately,  or  upon  consideration' 
Respect  is  frequently  used  for  consideration  by  Shakspeare.  Cor- 
delia says,  in  the  first  scene : — 

(  Since  that  respects  of  fortune  are  his  love, 
I  shall  not  be  his  wife.1 

And  in  Hamlet : — 

' —  There's  the  respect 

That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life/ 
I  cannot  think  that  respect  here  means  a  respected  person,  as  John- 
son supposed ;  or  that  it  is  intended  for  a  personification,  as 
M  alone  asserts. 

440  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Delivered  letters,  spite  of  intermission6, 
Which  presently  they  read ;  on  whose  contents, 
They  summon'd  up  their  meiny7,  straight  took  horse; 
Commanded  me  to  follow,  and  attend 
The  leisure  of  their  answer;  gave  me  cold  looks: 
And  meeting  here  the  other  messenger, 
Whose  welcome,  I  perceived,  had  poison'd  mine 
(Being  the  very  fellow  that  of  late 
Displayed  so  saucily  against  your  highness), 
Having  more  man  than  wit  about  me,  drew8; 
He  rais'd  the  house  with  loud  and  coward  cries : 
Your  son  and  daughter  found  this  trespass  worth 
The  shame  which  here  it  suffers. 

Fool.  Winter's  not  gone  yet,  if  the  wild  geese  fly 
that  way9. 

Fathers,  that  wear  rags, 

Do  make  their  children  blind ; 

But  fathers,  that  bear  bags, 
Shall  see  their  children  kind. 

Fortune,  that  arrant  whore, 

Ne'er  turns  the  key  to  the  poor. — 
But,  for  all  this,  thou  shalt  have  as  many  dolours10 
for  thy  daughters,  as  thou  can'st  tell  in  a  year. 

6  i.  e.  *  spite  of  leaving  me  unanswered  for  a  time.'  GoneriTs 
messenger  delivered  letters,  which  they  read  notwithstanding 
Lear's  messenger  was  yet  kneeling  unanswered. 

7  Meiny,  signifying  a  family,  household,  or  retinue  of  servants, 
is  certainly  from  the  French  meinie,  or,  as  it  was  anciently  writ- 
ten, mesnie ;  which  word  is  regarded  by  Da  Gange  as  equivalent 
with  mesonie,  or  maisonie,  from  maison ;  in  modern  French,  wte- 
nage.  It  does  not  appear  that  the  Saxons  used  many  for  a  family 
or  household. 

6  The  personal  prononn,  which  is  fonnd  in  the  preceding  line, 
is  understood  before  the  word  having,  or  before  drew.  The  same 
licence  is  taken  by  Shakspeare  in  other  places.  See  vol.  ix.  p. 
112,  note  1. 

9  '  If  this  be  their  behaviour,  the  king's  troubles  are  not  yet 
at  an  end/    This  speech  is  omitted  in  the  quartos. 

10  A.  cpuibVAe  taVnevn.  dolours  «&d  dollars. 

SC.  IV.\  KING  LEAR.  441, 

Lear.  O,  how  this  mother  u  swells  up  toward  my 
Hysterica  pamo  !  down,  thou  climbing  sorrow, 
Thy  element's  below! — Where  is  this  daughter? 

Kent.  With  the  earl,  sir,  here  within. 

Lear.  Follow  me  not; 

Stay  here.  [Exit. 

Gent.  Made  you  no  more  offence  than  what  you 
speak  of? 

Kent.  None. 
How  chance  the  king  comes  with  so  small  a  train  ? 

Fool.  An  thou  hadst  been  set  i'  the  stocks  for 
that  question,  thou  hadst  well  deserved  it. 

Kent .  Why,  fool  ? 

Fool.  We'll  set  thee  to  school  to  an  ant12,  to 

11  Lear  affects  to  pass  off  the  swelling  of  his  heart,  ready  to 
burst  with  grief  and  indignation  for  the  disease  called  the  mother, 
or  hysterica  passio,  which,  in  the  poet's  time,  was  not  thought 
peculiar  to  women  only.  It  is  probable  that  Shakspeare  had 
this  suggested  to  him  by  a  passage  in  Harsnet's  Declaration  of 
Popish  Impostures,  which  he  may  have  consulted  in  order  to 
furnish  out  his  character  of  Tom  of  Bedlam  with  demoniacal 
gibberish.  '  Ma.  Maynie  had  a  spice  of  the  hysterica  passio,  as 
seems,  from  his  youth ;  he  himself  termes  it  the  modther.'  p.  25. 
It  seems  the  priests  persuaded  him  it  was  from  the  possession 
of  the  devil.  '  The  disease  I  spake  of  was  a  spice  of  the  mother, 
wherewith  I  had  been  troubled  before  my  going  into  Fraunce : 
whether  I  doe  rightly  term  it  the  mother  or  no,  I  knowe  not. 
A  Scotish  Doctor  of  Physick,  then  in  Paris,  called  it,  as  I  re- 
member, virgitinem  capitis.  It  riseth  of  a  winde  in  the  bottome 
of  the  belly,  and  proceeding  with  a  great  swelling,  causeth  a 
very  painful  collicke  in  the  stomack,  and  an  extraordinary  gid- 
dines  in  the  head/  p.  263. 

13  '  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard  (says  Solomon),  learn  her 
ways,  and  be  wise :  which  having  no  guide,  overseer,  or  ruler, 
provideth  her  meat  in-  the  summer,  and  gathereth  her  food  in 
harvest/  If,  says  the  fool,  you  had  been  schooled  by  the  ant, 
you  would  have  known  that  the  king's  train,  like  that  sagacious 
insect,  prefer  the  summer  of  prosperity  to  the  colder  season  of 
adversity,  from  which  no  profit  can  be  derived;  and  desert  him 
whose  *  mellow-hangings'  have  been  all  shaken  down,  and  who 
by  '  one  winter's  brush'  has  been  left '  open  and  bare  for  ever^ 
storm  that  blows.' 

44ft  KING  LB  AIL  ACT  II. 

teach  thee  there's  no  labouring  in  the  winter.  All 
that  follow  their  noses  are  led  by  their  eyes,  but 
blind  men;  and  there's  not  a  nose  among  twenty, 
but  can  smell  him  that's  stinking13.  Let  go  thy 
hold,  when  a  great  wheel  runs  down  a  hill,  lest  it 
break  thy  neck  with  following  it;  but  the  great  one 
that  goes  up  the  hill,  let  him  draw  thee  after.  When 
a  wise  man  gives  thee  better  counsel,  give  me  mine 
again :  I  would  have  none  but  knaves  follow  it, 
since  a  fool  gives  it14. 

That,  sir,  which  serves  and  seeks  fox  gain, 

And  follows  but  for  form, 
Will  pack,  when  it  begins  to  rain, 

And  leave  thee  in  the  storm. 
But  I  will  tarry,  the  fool  will  stay, 

And  let  the  wise  man  fly: 
The  knave  turns  fool,  that  runs  away ; 
The  fool  no  knave,  perdy. 
Kent.  Where  learn'd  you  this,  fool? 
Fool.  Not  i'the  stocks,  fool. 

Re-enter  Lear,  with  Gloster. 

Lear.  Deny  to  speak  with  me?   They  are  sick? 
they  are  weary? 

13  AH  men,  bat  blind  men,  though  they  follow  their  noses,  are 
led  bj  their  eyes ;  and  this  class  of  mankind,  seeing  the  king 
rained,  have  all  deserted  him :  with  respect  to  the  blind,  who 
have  nothing  bat  their  noses  to  gaide  them,  they  also  fly  equally 
from  a  king  whose  fortunes  are  declining ;  for  of  the  noses  of 
blind  men  there  is  not  one  in  twenty  bat  can  smell  him  who, 
being '  maddy'd  in  fortunes  mood,  smells  somewhat  strong  of  her 
displeasure.'  You  need  not  therefore  be  surprised  at  Lear's 
coming  with  so  small  a  train. 

14  'One  cannot  too  much  commend  the  caution  which  oar 
moral  poet  uses  on  all  occasions  to  prevent  his  sentiment  from 
being  perversely  taken.  So  here,  haying  given  an  ironical  pre- 
cept in  commendation  of  perfidy  and  base  desertion  of  the  unfor- 
tunate, for  fear  it  should  be  understood  seriously,  though  deli- 
vered by  his  buffoon  or  jester,  he  has  the  precaution  to  add  this 
beautiful  corrective,  full  of  fine  sense : — "  I  would  have  none 
but  knaves  follow  it,  tiuee  *fowA  ^vi*%VO" — WwrWfcm. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  44$ 

They  hare  traveled  hard  to-night?  Mere  fetches; 
The  images  of  revolt  and  flying  off! 
Fetch  me  a  better  answer. 

Glo.  My  dear  lord, 

You  know  the  fiery  quality  of  the  duke; 
How  unremoyeable  and  fix'd  he  is 
In  his  own  course. 

Lear,  Vengeance !  plague !  death !  confusion  !—-<■ 
Fiery?  what  quality?  Why,  Gloster,  Gloster, 
I'd  speak  with  the  duke  of  Cornwall,  and  his  wife. 

Glo,  Well,  my  good  lord,  I  have  inform'd  them  so. 

Lear.  Inform'd  them !  Dost  thou  understand  me, 

Glo.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Lear.  The  lung  would  speak  with  Cornwall;  the 
dear  father 
Would  with  his  daughter  speak,  commands  her 
service : 

Are  they  inform'd  of  this? My  breath  and 

Fiery?  the  fiery  duke?— Tell  the  hot  duke,  that— 
No,  but  not  yet : — may  be,  he  is  not  well : 
Infirmity  doth  still  neglect  all  office, 
Whereto  our  health  is  bound;   we  are  not  our- 
When  nature,  being  oppress'd,  commands  the  mind 
To  suffer  with  the  body :  111  forbear ; 
And  am  fallen  out  with  my  more  headier  will, 
To  take  the  indisposed  and  sickly  fit 
For  the  sound  man.     Death  on  my  state !  where* 
fore  [Looking  on  Kent. 

Should  he  sit  here  ?  This  act  persuades  me, 
That  this  remotion  of  the  duke  and  her 
Is  practice  only.     Give  me  my  servant  forth : 
Go,  tell  the  duke  and  his  wife,  I'd  speak  with  them, 
Now,  presently :  bid  them  come  forth  and  hear  me* 

444  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IT. 

Or  at  their  chamber  door  I'll  beat  the  drum, 

Till  it  cry—  Sleep  to  death 15. 

Glo.  I'd  have  all  well  betwixt  you.  [Exit 

Lear.  O  me,  my  heart,  my  rising  heart! — but, 

Fool.  Cry  to  it,  nuncle,  as  the  cockney l6  did  to 

the  eels,  when  she  put  them  i'  the  paste  alive ;  she 

rapp'd  'em  o'  the  coxcombs  with  a  stick,  and  cry'd, 

15  The  meaning  of  this  passage  seems  to  be,  ( I'll  beat  the 
drum  till  it  cries  out — Let  them  awake  no  more ;  let  their  present 
sleep  be  their  last.'  Somewhat  similar  occurs  in  Troilns  and 
Cressida : — 

'  the  death  tokens  of  it 

Cry  no  recovery,' 
Mason  would  read, '  death  to  sleep/  instead  of  ( sleep  to  death/ 

16  Ballokar,  in  his  Expositor,  1616,  under  the  word  Cockney, 
says,  *  It  is  sometimes  taken  (or  a  child  that  is  tenderly  or  wan 
tonly  brought  up ;  or  for  one  that  has  been  brought  up  in  some 
great  town,  and  knows  nothing  of  the  country  fashion.  It  is 
used  also  for  a  Londoner,  or  one  born  in  or  near  the  city  (as  we 
say),  within  the  sound  of  Bow  bell.'  The  etymology  (says  Mr. 
Nares)  seems  most  probable,  which  derives  it  from  cookery. 
he  pays  de  cocagne,  or  coquaine,  in  old  French,  means  a  country 
of  good  cheer.  Cocagna,  in  Italian,  has  the  same  meaning.  Both 
might  be  derived  from  coquina.  This  famous  country,  if  it  could 
be  found,  is  described  as  a  region  '  where  the  bills  were  made 
of  sugar-candy,  and  the  loaves  ran  down  the  hills,  crying  Come 
eat  me.'  Some  lines  in  Camden's  Remaines  seem  to  make  coke- 
ney  a  name  for  London  as  well  as  its  inhabitants.  This  Lubber- 
land,  as  Florio  calls  it,  seems  to  have  been  proverbial  for  the 
simplicity  or  gullibility  of  its  inhabitants.  A  cockney  and  a 
ninny-hammer,  or  simpleton  were  convertible  terms.  Thus  Chau- 
cer, in  The  Reve's  Tale : — 

'  I  shall  be  holden  a  daffe  or  a  cokeney.' 

It  may  be  observed  that  cockney  is  only  a  diminutive  of  cock ;  a 
wanton  child  was  so  called  as  a  less  circumlocutory  way  of  say- 
ing, '  my  little  cock,'  or  my  bra-cock.  Decker,  in  his  Newes  from 
Hell,  1568,  says,  '  'Tis  not  our  fault ;  but  our  mother's,  our 
cockering  mothers,  who  for  their  labour  made  us  to  be  called 
cockneys.'  In  the  passages  cited  from  the  Tournament  of  Tot 
tenham  and  Heywood  it  literally  means  a  little  cock.  The  reader 
will  find  a  carious  article  on  the  subject  in  Mr.  Donee's  Illus- 
trations of  Shakspeare,  vol.  ii.  p.  151. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  445 

Down,  wantons,  down:  'Twas  her  brother,  that  in 
pure  kindness  to  his  horse,  butter'd  his  hay. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Gloster,  and 


Lear.  Good  morrow  to  you  both. 

Corn.  Hail  to  your  grace ! 

[Rent  is  set  at  liberty, 

Reg.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  highness. 

Lear.  Regan,  I  think  you  are;  I  know  what  reason 
I  have  to  think  so :  if  thou  should'st  not  be  glad,  . 
I  would  divorce  me  from  thy  mother's  tomb, 
Sepulchring  an  adultress. — O,  are  you  free  ? 

[To  Kent. 
Some  other  time  for  that. — Beloved  Regan, 
Thy  sister's  naught :  O  Regan,  she  hath  tied 
Sharp-tooth'd  unkindness,  like  a  vulture  here, — 

[Points  to  his  heart. 
I  can  scarce  speak  to  thee ;  thou'lt  not  believe, 
Of  how  deprav'd  a  quality O  Regan ! 

Reg.  I  pray  you,  sir,  take  patience ;  I  have  hope, 
You  less  know  how  to  value  her  desert, 
Than  she  to  scant  her  duty17. 

Lear.  Say,  how  is  that? 

Reg.  I  cannot  think,  my  sister  in  the  least 
Would  fail  her  obligation :  If,  sir,  perchance, 
She  have  restrain'd  the  riots  of  your  followers, 
Tis  on  such  ground,  and  to  such  wholesome  end, 
As  clears  her  from  all  blame. 

Lear.  My  curses  on  her ! 

Reg.  O,  sir,  you  are  old ; 

17  It  is  clear  that  the  intended  meaning  of  this  passage  is  as 
Steevens  observes:  '  You  less  know  how  to  value  her  desert, 
than  she  (knows)  to  scant  her  duty,  i.  e.  to  be  wanting  in  it.'  It 
is  somewhat  inaccurately  expressed,  Shakspeare  having,  as  on 
some  other  occasions,  perplexed  himself  by  the  word  less.  Bat 
all  the  verbiage  of  Malone  was  not  necessary,  to  lay  this  open. 

VOL.  IX.  Q  Q 

446  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Nature  in  you  stands  on  the  very  verge 

Of  her  confine :  you  should  be  ruPd,  and  led 

By  some  discretion,  that  discerns  your  state 

Better  than  you  yourself:  Therefore,  I  pray  you, 

That  to  our  sister  you  do  make  return ; 

Say,  you  have  wrong'd  her,  sir18. 

Lear.  Ask  her  forgiveness? 

Do  you  but  mark  how  this  becomes  the  house19: 
Dear  daughter,  I  confess  that  I  am  old; 
Age  is  unnecessary*0:  on  my  knees  I  beg,  [Kneeling. 
That  you'll  vouchsafe  me  raiment,  bed,  and  food. 

Reg.  Good  sir,  no  more ;  these  are  unsightly  tricks : 
Return  you  to  my  sister. 

Lear.  Never,  Regan: 

She  hath  abated  me  of  half  my  train ; 
Look'd  black  upon  me :  struck  me  with  her  tongue, 
Most  serpentlike,  upon  the  very  heart ; — 
All  the  stor'd  vengeances  of  heaven  fall 
On  her  ingrateful  top !  Strike  her  young  bones, 
You  taking  airs,  with  lameness ! 

Corn.  Fye,  fye,  fye ! 

Lear.  You  nimble  lightnings,  dart  your  blinding 
Into  her  scornful  eyes !  Infect  her  beauty, 
You  fen-suck'd  fogs,  drawn  by  the  powerful  sun, 
To  fall81  and  blast  her  pride ! 

18  '  Say,'  &c.  This  line  and  the  following  speech  is  omitted 
in  the  quartos. 

19  i.  e.  the  order  of  families,  duties  of  relation.  So  Sir  Thomas 
Smith,  in  his  Commonwealth  of  England,  1601 : — '  The  house  I 
call  here,  the  man,  the  woman,  their  children,  their  servants, 
bond  and  free.' 

90  Unnecessary  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  necessitous;  in 
want  of  necessaries  and  unable  to  procure  them.  Perhaps  this  is 
also  the  meaning  of  the  word  in  The  Old  Law,  by  Massinger: — 

' Your  laws  extend  not  to  desert, 

But  to  unnecessary  years,  and,  my  lord, 
His  are  not  such/ 
31  Fall  seems  tax*  \o  ta  ^wd.  as  an  active  verb,  signifying  to 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  447 

Reg.  O  the  blest  gods ! 

So  will  you  wish  on  me,  when  the  rash  mood  is  on. 

Lear.  No,  Regan,  thou  shalt  never  have  my  curse; 
Thy  tender-hefted22  nature  shall  not  give 
Thee  o'er  to  harshness;  her  eyes  are  fierce,  but  thine 
Do  comfort,  and  not  burn:  Tis  not  in  thee 
To  grudge  my  pleasures,  to  cut  off  my  train, 
To  bandy  hasty  words,  to  scant  my  sizes23, 
And,  in  conclusion,  to  oppose  the  bolt 
Against  my  coming  in :  thou  better  know'st 
The  offices  of  nature,  bond  of  childhood, 
Effects  of  courtesy,  dues  of  gratitude ; 
Thy  half  o'the  kingdom  hast  thou  not  forgot, 
Wherein  I  thee  endow'd. 

Reg.  Good  sir,  to  the  purpose. 

[Trumpets  within. 

Lear.  Who  put  my  man  i'  the  stocks  ? 

Corn.  What  trumpet's  that? 

Enter  Steward. 
Reg.  I  know't,  my  sister's24;  this  approves  her 
That  she  would  soon  be  here. — Is  your  lady  come? 

humble  or  pull  down.  (  Ye  fen-suck'd  fogs,  drawl  from  the 
earth  by  the  powerful  action  of  the  sun,  infect  her  beauty,  so  as 
to  fall  and  blast,  i.  e.  humble  and  destroy  her  pride.' 

n  Tender-hefted  may  mean  moved,  or  heaving  with  tenderness. 
The  quartos  read  tender-hested,  which  may  be  right,  and  signify 
giving  tender  lusts  or  commands.  Miranda  says,  in  The  Tem- 
pest : — 

*  O  my  father,  I  have  broke  your  hest  to  say  so.' 

93  A  size  is  a  portion  or  allotment  of  food.  The  word  and  its 
origin  are  explained  in  Minsheu's  Guide  to  Tongues,  1617.  The 
term  sizer  is  still  used  at  Cambridge  for  one  of  the  lowest  rank 
of  students,  living  on  a  stated  allowance. 

24  Thus  in  Othello :— 

*  The  Moor,— J  know  his  trumpet.' 
It  should  seem  therefore  that  the  approach  of  great  personages 
was  announced  by  some  distinguishing  note  or  tune  appropriately 
used  by  their  own  trumpeters.    Cornwall  knows  not  the  \»te«A^t 
sound;  but  to  Regan,  who  had  often  b.e*r&\iQY  M&VxK'«>xwa^ftX<» 

448  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Lear.  This  is  a  slave,  whose  easy-borrow'd  pride 
Dwells  in  the  fickle  grace  of  her  he  follows : — 
Out,  varlet,  from  my  sight ! 

Corn.  What  means  your  grace? 

Lear.  Who  stock'd  my  servant?    Regan,  I  have 
good  hope 
Thou  didst  not  know  oft. — Who  comes  here?   0 

Enter  Goneril. 

If  you  do  love  old  men,  if  your  sweet  sway 
Allow25  obedience,  if  yourselves  are  old26, 
Make  it  your  cause ;  send  down,  and  take  my  part ! — 
Art  not  asham'd  to  look  upon  this  beard  ? — 

[To  Goneril. 
O,  Regan,  wilt  thou  take  her  by  the  hand  ? 

Gon.  Why  not  by  the  hand,  sir?    How  have  I 
All's  not  offence,  that  indiscretion  finds, 
And  dotage  terms  so. 

Lear.  O,  sides,  you  are  too  tough ! 

Will  you  yet  hold  ?— How  came  my  man  i'the  stocks  ? 

Corn.  I  set  him  there,  sir :  but  his  own  disorders 
Deserv'd  much  less  advancement27. 

Lear.  You!  did  you? 

Reg.  I  pray  you,  father,  being  weak,  seem  so  **. 

the  first  flourish  of  it  was  as  familiar  as  was  that  of  the  moor  to 
the  ears  of  Iago. 

35  To  allow  is  to  approve,  in  old  phraseology.  See  vol.  i.  p.  223, 
note  20.  Thus  in  Psalm  xi.  ver.  6 : — '  The  Lord  allovoeth  the 

26        ' hoc  oro,  munus  concede  parenti, 

Si  tua  matnris  signentur  tempora  cams, 

Et  sis  ipse  parens/  Statins  Theb.  x.  705. 

37  By  less  advancement  Cornwall  means  that  Kent's  disorders 
had  entitled  him  to  a  post  of  even  less  honour  than  the  stocks,  a 
still  worse  or  more  disgraceful  situation. 

28  The  meaning  is,  since  you  are  weak,  be  content  to  think 
yourself  weak. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  449 

If,  till  the  expiration  of  your  month, 
You  will  return  and  sojourn  with  my  sister, 
Dismissing  half  your  train,  come  then  to  me; 
I  am  now  from  home,  and  out  of  that  provision 
Which  shall  be  needful  for  your  entertainment. 

Lear.  Return  to  her,  and  fifty  men  dismissed  ? 
No,  rather  I  abjure  all  roofs,  and  choose 
To  wage29  against  the  enmity  o'the  air; 
To  be  a  comrade  with  the  wolf  and  owl, — 
Necessity's  sharp  pinch30 1 — Return  with  her? 
Why,  the  hot-blooded  France,  that  dowerless  took 
Our  youngest  born,  I  could  as  well  be  brought 
To  knee  his  throne,  and,  squirelike,  pension  beg 
To  keep  base  life  afoot; — Return  with  her? 
Persuade  me  rather  to  be  slave  and  sumpter31 
To  this  detested  groom.     [Looking  on  the  Steward. 

Gon.  At  your  choice,  sir. 

Lear.  I  pr'ythee,  daughter,  do  not  make  me  mad; 
I  will  not  trouble  thee,  my  child ;  farewell : 
We'll  no  more  meet,  no  more  see  one  another  :— 
But  yet  thou  art  my  flesh,  my  blood,  my  daughter; 
Or  rather  a  disease  that's  in  my  flesh, 

99  See  Act  i.  Sc.  1,  note  24. 

30  The  words,  ( necessity's  sharp  pinch !'  appear  to  be  the 
reflection  of  Lear  on  the  wretched  sort  of  existence  be  bad  de- 
scribed in  the  preceding  lines. 

31  Sumpter  is  generally  united  with  horse  or  mule,  to  signify 
one  that  carried  provisions  or  other  necessaries j  from  sumptus, 
Lat.  In  the  present  instance  horse  seems  to  be  understood,  as 
it  appears  to  be  in  the  following  passage  from  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  Two  Noble  Gentlemen : — 

\      '  I  would  have  had  yon  furnish'd  in  such  pomp 
As  never  duke  of  Burgundy  was  furnish'd ; 
Yon  should  have  had  a  sumpter  though 't  had  cost  me 
The  laying  out  myself/ 
Perhaps  sumpter  originally  meant  the  pannier  or  basket  which 
the  sumpter-horse  carried.    Thus  in  Cupid's  Revenge : — 
'  And  thy  base  issue  shall  carry  sumplers.' 

We  hear  also  of  sumpter-cloths,  simpter-saddU*,  &&• 

450  KING  LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Which  I  must  needs  call  mine :  thou  art  a  boil, 
A  plague-sore,  an  embossed  **  carbuncle. 
In  my  corrupted  blood.     But  I'll  not  chide  thee; 
Let  shame  come  when  it  will,  I  do  not  call  it : 
I  do  not  bid  the  thunder-bearer  shoot, 
Nor  tell  tales  of  thee  to  high-judging  Jove : 
Mend,  when  thou  canst;  be  better  at  thy  leisure: 
I  can  be  patient ;  I  can  stay  with  Regan, 
I,  and  my  hundred  knights. 

Reg.  Not  altogether  so,  sir; 

I  look'd  not  for  you  yet,  nor  am  provided 
For  your  fit  welcome:  Give  ear,  sir,  to  my  sister; 
For  those  that  mingle  reason  with  your  passion, 
Must  be  content  to  think  you  old,  and  so— 
But  she  knows  what  she  does. 

Lear.  Is  this  well  spoken  now  T 

Reg.  I  dare  avouch  it,  sir :  What,  fifty  followers  ? 
Is  it  not  well  ?  What  should  you  need  of  more  ? 
Yea,  or  so  many?  sith  that  both  charge  and  danger 
Speak  'gainst  so  great  a  number?  How,  in  one  house, 
Should  many  people,  under  two  commands, 
Hold  amity  ?  Tis  hard ;  almost  impossible. 

Gan.  Why  might  not  you,  my  lord  receive  at- 
From  those  that  she  calls  servants,  or  from  mine? 

Reg.  Why  not,  my  lord?  If  then  they  chanc'd  to 
slack  you, 
We  could  control  them :  If  you  will  come  to  me 
(For  now  I  spy  a  danger),  I  entreat  you 
To  bring  but  five  and  twenty ;  to  no  more 
Will  I  give  place  or  notice. 

Lear.  I  gave  you  all — 

Reg.  And  in  good  time  you  gave  it. 

Lear.  Made  you  my  guardians,  my  depositaries ; 
But  kept  a  reservation  to  be  follow'd 

**  Embossed  YkWi  tba«&&  svodliivj,  protuberant. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  45l 

With  such  a  number:  What,  must  I  come  to  you 
With  five  and  twenty,  Regan?  said  you  so? 

Reg.  And  speak  it  again,  my  lord;   no  more 
with  me. 

Lear.  Those  wicked  creatures  yet  do  look  well 
favour'd,  • 

When  others  are  more  wicked;  not  being  the  worst, 
Stands  in  some  rank  of  praise33 : — 111  go  with  thee; 

Thy  fifty  yet  doth  double  five  and  twenty, 
And  thou  art  twice  her  love. 

Gon.  Hear  me,  my  lord ; 

What  need  you  five  and  twenty,  ten,  or  five, 
To  follow  in  a  house,  where  twice  so  many 
Have  a  command  to  tend  you  ? 

Meg.  W  hat  need  one  ? 

Lear.  O,  reason  not  the  need :  our  basest  beggars 
Are  in  the  poorest  thing  superfluous : 
Allow  not  nature  more  than  nature  needs, 
Man's  life  is  cheap34  as  beast's:  thou  art  a  lady; 
If  only  to  go  warm  were  gorgeous, 
Why,  nature  needs  not  what  thou  gorgeous  wear'st, 
Which  scarcely  keeps  thee  warm. — But,  for  true 

need, — 
You  heavens,  give  me  that  patience,  patience  I  need ! 
You  see  me  here,  you  gods,  a  poor  old  man, 
As  full  of  grief  as  age ;  wretched  in  both ! 
If  it  be  you  that  stir  these  daughters'  hearts 
Against  their  father,  fool  me  not  so  much 
To  bear  it  tamely ;  touch  me  with  noble  anger ! 
O,  let  not  women's  weapons,  water-drops, 
Stain  my  man's  cheeks ! — No,  you  unnatural  hags, 
I  will  have  such  revenges  on  you  both, 

33  i.  e.  to  be  not  the  worst  deserves  some  praise. 
24  As  cheap  here  means  as  little  worth.    See  Baret's  Alrearie, 
1573.  C.  388. 

452  KINO  LEAR,  ACT  II. 

That  all  the  world  shall — I  will  do  such  things, — 
What  they  are,  yet  I  know  not35;  but  they  shall  be 
The  terrors  of  the  earth.     You  thiols,  I'll  weep; 
No,  HI  not  weep: — 

I  have  full  cause  of  weeping;  but  this  heart 
Shall  break  into  a  hundred  thousand  flaws36, 
Or  ere  I'll  weep: — O,  fool,  I  shall  go  mad! 

[Exeunt  Lear,  Glostbr,  Kent,  and  Fool. 
Corn.  Let  us  withdraw,  'twill  be  a  storm. 

[Storm  heard  at  a  distance* 
Reg.  This  house 

Is  little;  the  old  man  and  his  people  cannot 
Be  well  bestow'd. 

Gon.  Tis  his  own  blame ;  hath  put 

Himself  from  rest,  and  must  needs  taste  his  folly. 
.  Reg.  For  his  particular,  I'll  receive  him  gladly, 
But  not  one  follower. 

Gon.  So  am  I  purposed. 

"Where  is  my  lord  of  Gloster? 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Corn.  Follow 'd  the  old  man  forth : — he  is  return'd. 

Glo.  The  king  is  in  high  rage. 

Corn*  Whither  is  he  going? 

85  ' magnum  est  quodcunque  paravi, 

Quid  sit,  adhuc  dobito.'  Ovid.  Met.  lib.  vi 

' haud  quid  sit  scio, 

Sed  grande  quiddam  est.'  Seneca  Tkyestes. 

Let  such  as  are  unwilling  ^o  allow  that  copiers  of  nature  most 
occasionally  nse  the  same  thoughts  and  expressions,  remember 
that  of  both  these  authors  there  were  earl y  translations.  Geld' 
ing  thus  renders  the  passage  from  Ovid : — 

'  The  thing  that  I  do  purpose  on  is  great,  whatever  it  is 
/  Jtnvw  not  what  it  may  be  yet.' 
36  Flaws  anciently  signified  fragments,  as  well  as  mere  tracks* 
Among  the  Saxons  it  certainly  had  that  meaning,  as  may  be  seen 
in  Somner's  Diet  Saxon,  voce  pi  oh.  The  word,  as  Bailey  ob- 
serves, Was  *  especially  applied  to  the  breaking  off  shivers  or  thin 
pieces  from  ^xeciow  %\xm«&.' 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  453 

G lo.  He  calls  to  horse ;  but  will  I  know  not  whither. 

Corn.  Tis  best  to  give  him  way;  he  leads  himself. 

Gon.  My  lord,  entreat  him  by  no  means  to  stay. 

Glo.  Alack,  the  night  comes  on,  and  the  bleak 
Do  sorely  ruffle 37 ;  for  many  miles  about  • 
There's  scarce  a  bush. 

Reg.  O,  sir,  to  wilful  men, 

The  injuries,  that  they  themselves  procure, 
Must  be  their  schoolmasters:  Shut  up  your  doors; 
He  is  attended  with  a  desperate  train; 
And  what  they  may  incense38  him  to,  being  apt. 
To  have  his  ear  abus'd,  wisdom  bids  fear. 

Corn.  Shut  up  your  doors,  my  lord :  'tis  a  wild 
night ; 
My  Regan  counsels  well;  come  out  o'the  storm. 




SCENE  I.     A  Heath. 
A  Storm  is  heard,  with  Thunder  and  Lightning. 

Enter  Kent,  and  a  Gentleman,  meeting. 

Kent.  Who's  here,  beside  foul  weather? 

Gent.  One  minded  like  the  weather,  most  un- 

Kent.  I  know  you;  Where's  the  king? 
Gent.  Contending  with  the  fretful  element: 
Bids  the  wind  blow  the  earth  into  the  sea, 

37  Thus  the  folio.  The  quartos  read, '  Do  sorely  russel,*  i.  e. 
rustle.  .Bat  ruffle  is  most  probably  the  true  reading.  See  the 
first  note  on  Macbeth. 

38  To  incense  is  here,  as  in  other  places,  to  instigate. 

454  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Of  swell  ike  curled  waters  'boye  the  main  19 
That  things  might  change,  or  cease8 :  tears  his  white 

Which  the  impetuous  blasts,  with  eyeless  rage, 
Catch  in  their  fury,  and  make  nothing  of: 
Strives  in  his  little  world  of  man  to  out-scorn3 
The  to-and-fro-conflicting  wind  and  rain. 
This  night,  wherein  the  cub-drawn  bear4  would  couch, 
The  lion  and  the  belly-pinched  wolf 
Keep  their  fur  dry,  unbonneted  he  runs, 
And  bids  what  will  take  all5. 

Kent.  But  who  is  with  him? 

1  The  main  seems  to  signify  here  the  main  land,  the  continent. 
The  main  is  again  used  in  this  sense  in  Hamlet  :— . 

( Goes  it  against  the  mam  of  Poland,  sirf* 
So  ia  Bacon's  Wars  with  Spain: — 'In  1589  we  turned  chal- 
lengers, and  invaded  the  main  of  Spain.'  This  interpretation 
sets  the  two  objects  of  Lear's  desire  in  proper  opposition  to 
each  other.  He  wishes  for  the  destruction  of  the  world,  either 
by  the  winds  blowing  the  land  into  the  water,  or  raising  the 
waters  so  as  to  overwhelm  the  land : — 

' terra  rnari  miscebitnr,  et  mare  coelo.' 

Lucret.  iii.  854. 
See  also  the  jEneid  i.  133 ;  xii.  204.    So  in  Troilns  and  Cres- 
sida : — 

'  — — —  The  bounded  waters 
Should  lift  their  bosoms  higher  than  the  shores, 
>*    And  make  a  sop  of  all  this  solid  globe.' 
3  The  first  folio  ends  this  speech  at  '  change,  or  cease,'  and 
begins  again  at  Kent's  speech, ( But  who  is  with  him? 

3  £  tee  vera  thinks  that  we  should  read,  *  out-storm.'  The  error 
of  printing  scorn  for  storm  occurs  in  the  old  copies  of  Troilos 
and  Cressida,  and  might  easily  happen  from  the  similarity  of  the 
words  in  old  MSS. 

4  That  is,  a  bear  whose  dags  are  drawn  dry  by  its  yooig. 
Shakspeare  has  the  same  image  in  As  Yon  like  It : — 

(  A  lioness,  with  udders  all  drawn  dry, 
Lay  coaching—' 
Again  ibidem : — 

'  Food  to  the  such'd  and  hungry  lioness.' 
6  So  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Enobarbos  says: — 
( I'll  fttrike,  and  cry,  Take  aU.' 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  455 

Gent.  None  but  the  fool ;  who  labours  to  outjest 
His  heart-struck  injuries. 

Kent.  Sir,  I  do  know  you ; 

And  dare  upon  the  warrant  of  my  art6, 
Commend  a  dear  thing  to  you.    There  is  division, 
Although  as  yet  the  face  of  it  be  cover'd 
With  mutual  cunning,  'twixt  Albany  and  Cornwall ; 
Who  have  (as  who  have  not,  that  their  great  stars  7 
Thron'd  and  set  high  ?)  servants,  who  seem  no  less ; 
Which  are  to  France  the  spies  and  speculations 
Intelligent  of  our  state ;  what  hath  been  seen, 
Either  in  snuffs  and  packings8  of  the  dukes; 
Or  the  hard  rein  which  both  of  them  have  borne 
Against  the  old  kind  king ;  or  something  deeper, 
Whereof,  perchance,  these  are  but  furnishings9: — 
[But,  true  it  is,  from  France  there  comes  a  power 
Into  this  scatter'd  kingdom;  who  already 
Wise  in  our  negligence,  have  secret  feet10 
In  some  of  our  best  ports,  and  are  at  point 
To  show  their  open  banner. — Now  to  you : 
If  on  my  credit  you  dare  build  so  far 

6  i.  e.  on  the  strength  of  that  art  or  skill  which  teaches  as 
'  to  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face.'  The  folio  reads : — 

' upon  the  warrant  of  my  note;' 

which  Dr.  Johnson  explains, '  my  observation  of  your  character.' 

7  This  and  seven  following  lines  are  not  in  the  qaartos.  The 
lines  in  crotchets  lower  down,  from  '  Bat,  true  it  is,'  &c.  to  the 
end  of  the  speech,  are  not  in  the  folio.  So  that  if  the  speech  be 
read  with  omission  of  the  former,  it  will  stand  according  to  the 
first  edition ;  and  if  the  former  lines  are  read,  and  the  latter 
omitted,  it  will  then  stand  according  to  the  second.  The  second 
edition  is  generally  best,  and  was  probably  nearest  to  Shak- 
speare's  last  copy :  bat  in  this  speech  the  first  is  preferable ;  for 
in  the  folio  the  messenger  .is  sent,  he  knows  not  why,  he  knows 
not  whither. 

8  Snuffs  are  dislikes,  and  packings  underhand  contrivances. 

9  A  furnish  anciently  signified  a  sample.  *  To  lend  the  world 
a  furnish  of  wit,  she  lays  her  own  oat  to  pawn.' — Green's  Groats- 
worth  of  Wit. 

10  i.  e.  secret  foot  lug. 

456  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

To  make  your  speed  to  Dover,  you  shall  find 
Some  that  will  thank  you,  making  just  report      , 
Of  how  unnatural  and  bemadding  sorrow 
The  king  hath  cause  to  plain. 
I  am  a  gentleman  of  blood  and  breeding; 
And,  from  some  knowledge  and  assurance,  offer 
This  office  to  you.] 

Gent.  I  will  talk  further  with  you. 

Kent.  No,  do  not 

For  confirmation  that  I  am  much  more 
Than  my  out  wall,  open  this  purse,  and  take 
What  it  contains :  If  you  shall  see  Cordelia 
(As  fear  not  but  you  shall),  show  her  this  ring; 
And  she  will  tell  you  who  your  fellow11  is 
That  yet  you  do  not  know.     Fye  on  this  storm! 
I  will  go  seek  the  king. 

Gent.  Give  me  your  hand :   Have  you  no  more 
to  say? 

Kent.  Few  words,  but,  to  effect,  more  than  all  yet; 
That,  when  we  have  found  the  king  (in  which  your 

That  way ;  I'll  this) ;  he  that  first  lights  on  him, 
Holla  the  other.  [Exeunt  severally. 

Another  Part  of  the  Heath.     Storm  continues. 

Enter  Lear  and  Fool. 

Lear.  Blow,  wind,  and  crack  your  cheeks1 !  rage ! 

You  cataracts,  and  hurricanoes,  spout 
Till  you  have  drench'd  our  steeples,  drown'd  the 

cocks ! 

11  Companion. 

1  The  poet  was  here  thinking  of  the  common  representation 
of  the  winds  in  many  hooks  of  his  time.  We  find  the  same  al lo- 
tion in  TioiVoa  «&&  Cft«%%\fou    &«%  ^qU  vii.  p.  418. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  457 

You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing2  fires, 
Vaunt- couriers3  to  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts, 
Singe  my  white  head !  And  thou,  all-shaking  thunder, 
Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'the  world ! 
Crack  nature's  moulds,  all  germens  spill  at  once4, 
That  make  ingrateful  man ! 

Fool.  O  nuncle,  court  holy-water5  in  a  dry  house 
is  better  than  this  rain-water  out  o'door.  Good 
nuncle,  in,  and  ask  thy  daughter's  blessing !  Here's 
a  night  pities  neither  wise  men  nor  fools. 

Lear.  Rumble  thy  bellyful !  Spit,  fire !  spout,  rain ! 
Nor  rain,  wind,  thunder,  fire,  are  my  daughters ; 
I  tax  not  you,  you  elements,  with  unkindness, 
I  never  gaye  you  kingdom,  call'd  you  children, 
You  owe  me  no  subscription6;  why,  then  let  fall 
Your  horrible  pleasure ;  here  I  stand,  your  slave, 
A  poor,  infirm,  weak,  and  despis'd  old  man :— 
But  yet  I  call  you  servile  ministers, 

2  Thought-executing,  *  doing  execution  with  celerity  equal  to 

3  Avant-courierst  Fr.  The  phrase  occurs  in  other  writers  of 
Shakspeare's  time.  It  originally  meant  the  foremost  scouts  of 
an  army.  In  The  Tempest  'Jove's  lightnings'  are  termed  more 

• the  precursors 

O'  the  dreadful  thunder-claps.' 

4  There  is  a  parallel  passage  in  The  Winter's  Tale: — 

'  Let  nature  crash  the  sides  o'  the  earth  together, 
And  mar  the  seeds  within.' 
So  again  in  Macbeth : — 

' and  the  sum 

Of  nature's  germens  tumble  all  together.' 
For  the  force  of  the  word  spill,  see  Genesis,  xxxviii.  9. 

6  Court  holy-water  is  fair  words  and  flattering  speeches.  '  Gon- 
fiare  alcuno  (says  Florio),  to  soothe  or  flatter  one,  to  set  one 
agogge,  or  with  fair  words  bring  him  into  a  foole's  paradise;  to 
fill  one  with  hopes,  or  court  holie-tvater.'  It  appears  to  have  been 
borrowed  from  the  French,  who  have  their  Eau  tenite  de  la  cour 
in  the  same  sense. 

6  i.  e.  submission,  obedience.  See  Act  i.  Sc.  2,  note  5 ;  and 
vol.  vii.  p.  422. 

VOL.  IX.  $.  K 

458  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

That  have  with  two  pernicious  daughters  join'd 
Your  high  engendered  battles,  'gainst  a  head 
So  old  and  white  as  this.     O  !  O !  'tis  foul ! 

Fool.  He  that  has  a  house  to  put  his  head  in, 
has  a  good  head-piece. 

The  cod-piece  that  will  house, 

Before  the  head  has  any. 
The  head  and  he  shall  louse ; — 

So  beggars  marry  many. 
The  man  that  makes  his  toe 
'  What  he  his  heart  should  make, 
Shall  of  a  corn  cry  woe, 
And  turn  his  sleep  to  wake. 
— for  there  was  never  yet  fair  woman,  but  she  made 
mouths  in  a  glass. 

Enter  Kent. 

Lear.  No,  I  will  be  the  pattern  of  all  patience, 
I  will  say  nothing. 

Kent.  Who's  there  ? 

Fool.  Marry,  here's  grace,  and  a  cod-piece7; 
that's  a  wise  man,  and  a  fool. 

Kent.  Alas,  sir,  are  you  here?  things  that  lore 
Love  not  such  nights  as  these ;  the  wrathful  skies 
Gallow8  the  very  wanderers  of  the  dark, 
And  make  them  keep  their  caves :  Since  I  was  man, 
Such  sheets  of  fire,  such  bursts  of  horrid  thunder, 
Such  groans  of  roaring  wind  and  rain,  I  never 
Remember  to  have  heard :  man's  nature  cannot  carry 
The  affliction,  nor  the  fear. 

7  Meaning  the  king  and  himself.  The  king's  grace  was  tbe 
usual  expression  in  Shakspeare'stime :  perhaps  the  latter  phrase 
alludes  to  the  saying  of  a  contemporary  wit,  that  there  is  no  dis- 
cretion below  the  girdle. 

8  To  gallow  is  to  frighten,  to  scare;  from  the  A.  S.  agielan,  or 
agaelpan.  In  the  corrupted  form  of  to  gaily  it  is  still  in  use  io 
the  west  of  T&u^WA. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  459 

Lear.  Let  the  great  gods, 

That  keep  this  dreadful  pother9  o'er  our  heads, 
Find  out  their  enemies  now.    Tremble,  thou  wretch, 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice:  Hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand; 
Thou  perjurM,  and  thou  simular10  man  of  virtue 
That  art  incestuous :  Caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Hast  practis'd  on  man's  life ! — Close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents11,  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoners  grace12.     I  am  a  man, 
More  sinn'd  against,  than  sinning13. 

Kent.  Alack,  bare-headed ! 

Gracious  my  lord,  hard  by  here  is  a  hovel; 
Some  friendship  will  it  lend  you  'gainst  the  tempest ; 
Repose  you  there :  while  I  to  this  hard  house, 
(More  hard  than  is  the  stone  whereof  'tis  rais'd; 
Which  even  but  now,  demanding  after  you, 

9  Thus  the  folio  and  one  of  the  quartos ;   the  other  quarto 
reads  thundering. 

10  i.  e.  counterfeit ;  from  simulo,  Lat. 

'  —  My  practices  so  prevail'd, 

That  I  returned  with  simular  proof  enough 

To  make  the  noble  Leonatus  mad.' 

Cymbeline,  Act  v.  Sc.  5. 

11  Continent  for  that  which  contains  or  encloses.  Thus  in  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra : — 

'  Heart,  once  be  stronger  than  thy  continent.' 
The  quartos  read, — concealed  centers, 

13  Summoners  are  officers  that  summon  offenders  before  a  pro- 
per tribunal.  See  Chaucer's  Sompnour's  Tale,  v.  625-670. — 
Thus  in  Howard's  Defensative  against  the  Poison  of  supposed 
Prophecies,  1581 : — '  They  seem  to  brag  most  of  the  strange 
events  which  follow  for  the  most  part  after  blazing  starres,  as 
if  they  were  the  summoners  of  God  to  call  princes  to  the  seat  of 

13  (Edipus,  in  Sophocles,  represents  himself  in  the  same  light. 
CEdip.  Colon,  v.  270  :— 

' ra  y  tpya  /is 

Ilf  irovfloY  tti  pakkov  rf  didpaxora.' 

460  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 


Denied  me  to  come  in),  return,  and  force 
Their  scanted  courtesy. 

Lear.  My  wits  begin  to  turn,- 

Come  on,  my  boy:  How  dost,  my  boy?  Art  cold? 
I  am  cold  myself.— Where  is  this  straw,  my  fel- 
The  art  of  our  necessities  is  strange, 
That  can  make  vile  things  precious.     Come,  your 

Poor  fool  and  knave,  I  have  one  part  in  my  heart 
That's  sorry  yet  for  thee 14. 

Fool.  He  that  has  a  little  tiny  wit, — 

With  a  heigh,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, — 

Must  make  content  with  his  fortunes  Jit ; 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day 15. 

Lear.  True,  my  good  boy. — Come,  bring  us  to 
this  hovel.  [Exeunt  Lear  and  Kent. 

Fool.  This  is  a  brave  night  to  cool  a  courtezan16. 
— I'll  speak  a  prophecy  ere  I  go : 

When  priests  are  more  in  word  than  matter ; 

When  brewers  mar  their  malt  with  water; 

When  nobles  are  their  tailors'  tutors ; 

No  hereticks  burn'd,  but  wenches'  suitors : 

When  every  case  in  law  is  right ; 

No  squire  in  debt,  nor  no  poor  knight; 

When  slanders  do  not  live  in  tongues ; 

Nor  cutpurses  come  not  to  throngs; 

When  usurers  tell  their  gold  i'  the  field ; 

And  bawds  and  whores  do  churches  build : — 

Then  shall  the  realm  of  Albion 

Come  to  great  confusion 17. 

14  fhe  quartos  read, « That  sorrows  yet  for  thee.' 

15  Part  of  the  Clown's  song  at  the  end  of  Twelfth  Night. 
18  This  speech  is  not  in  the  quartos. 

17  These  lines  are  taken  from  what  is  commonly  called  Chin- 
cer's  Prophecy  but  vrhich  is  much  older  than  his  time  in  its 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  461 

Then  comes  the  time,  who  lives  to  see't, 

That  going  shall  be  us'd  with  feet. 
This  prophecy  Merlin  shall  make ;  for  I  live  before 
his  time.  [Exit, 

SCENE  III.     A  Room  in  .Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Gloster  and  Edmund. 

Glo.  Alack,  alack,  Edmund,  I  like  not  this  un- 
natural dealing:  When  I  desired  their  leave  that 
I  might  pity  him,  they  took  from  me  the  use  of 
mine  own  house ;  charged  me,  on  pain  of  their  per- 
petual displeasure,  neither  to  speak  of  him,  entreat 
for  him,  nor  any  way  sustain  him. 

Edm.  Most  savage,  and  unnatural! 

Glo.  Go  to;  say  you  nothing:  There  is  division 
between  the  dukes ;  and  a  worse  matter  than  that : 
I  have  received  a  letter  this  night; — 'tis  dangerous 
to  be  spoken: — I  have  locked  the  letter  in  my  clo- 
set :  these  injuries  the  king  now  bears  will  be  re- 
venged at  home;  there  is  part  of  a  power  already 
footed 1 :  we  must  incline  to  the  king.  I  will  seek 
him,  and  privily  relieve  him :  go  you,  and  maintain 
talk  with  the  duke,  that  my  charity  be  not  of  him 
perceived:  If  he  ask  for  me,  I  am  ill,  and  gone  to 
bed.  If  I  die  for  it,  as  no  less  is  threatened  me, 
the  king  my  old  master  must  be  relieved.    There  is 

original  form.     It  is  thus  quoted  by  Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of 
Poetry,  1589  :— 

'  When  faith  fails  in  priestes  saws, 

And  lords  bests  are  holden  for  laws. 

And  robbery  is  tane  for  purchase, 

And  letchery  for  solace,  . 

Then  shall  the  realm  of  Albion 

Be  brought  to  great  confusion/ 
See  the  Works  of  Chaucer  in  Whittingham's  edit.  vol.  v.  p.  179. 

1  The  quartos  read,  landed. 

R  B.1 


462  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

some  strange  thing  toward,  Edmund :  pray  you,  be 
careful.  [Exit. 

Edm.  This  courtesy,  forbid  thee,  shall  the  duke 
Instantly  know;  and  of  that  letter  too: — 
This  seems  a  fair  deserving,  and  must  draw  me 
That  which  my  father  loses ;  no  less  than  all : 
The  younger  rises,  when  the  old  doth  fall.      [Exit. 

A  Part  of  the  Heath,  with  a  Hovel. 

Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  Fool. 

Kent.  Here  is  the  place,  my  lord ;  good  my  lord, 
The  tyranny  of  the  open  night's  too  rough 
For  nature  to  endure.  [Storm  still. 

Lear.  Let  me  alone. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  enter  here. 
Lear.  Wilt  break  my  heart1? 

Kent.  I'd  rather  break  mine  own :  Good  my  lord, 

Lear.  Thou  think'st  'tis  much,  that  this  contentious 
Invades  us  to  the  skin :  so  'tis  to  thee ; 
But  where  the  greater  malady  is  fix'd, 

1  Steevens  thought  that  Lear  does  not  address  this  question 
to  Kent,  bat  to  his  own  bosom ;  and  would  point  the  passage 
thus : — 

« . —  Wilt  break,  my  heart?' 

4  Taking  the  words  of  Lear  by  themselres  (says  Mr.  Pye),  the 
sense  and  punctuation  proposed  by  Steevens  is  very  judicious; 
bat  is  oonfuted  by  what  Kent  answers,  who  mast  know  how 
Lear  spoke  it;  and  there  seems  no  sort  of  reason  why,  as  is  sug- 
gested, he  should  affect  to  misunderstand  him.  Nothing  is  more 
natural  than  for  a  person  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  his 
own  misery,  to  answer  offers  of  assistance  that  interrupt  him 
with  petulance/ 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  463 

The  lesser  is  scarce  felt2.    Thou'dst  shun  a  bear: 
But  if  thy  flight  lay  toward  the  raging  sea, 
Thou'dst  meet  the  bear  i'  the  mouth.     When  the 

mind's  free, 
The  body's  delicate :  the  tempest  in  my  mind 
Doth  from  my  senses  take  all  feeling  else, 
Save  what  beats  there. — Filial  ingratitude ! 
Is  it  not  as  this  mouth  should  tear  this  hand, 
Por  lifting  food  to't? — But  I  will  punish  home: — 
No,  I  will  weep  no  more. — In  such  a  night 
To  shut  me  out !— Pour  on ;  I  will  endure3 : — 
In  such  a  night  as  this!  O  Regan,  Goneril! — 
Your  old  kind  father,  whose  frank  heart  gave  you 

O,  that  way  madness  lies;  let  me  shun  that; 
No  more  of  that, — 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  enter  here. 

Lear.  TVy  thee,go  in  thyself;  seek  thine  own  ease ; 
This  tempest  will  not  give  me  leave  to  ponder 
On  things  would  hurt  me  more. — But  I'll  go  in : 
In,  boy;  go  first. — [To  the  Fool.]  You  houseless4 

poverty, — 
Nay,  get  thee  in.     I'll  pray,  and  then  I'll  sleep. — 

[Fool  goes  in. 
Poor  naked  wretches,  wheresoe'er  you  are, 
That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm, 
How  shall  your  houseless  heads,  and  unfed  sides, 
Your  loop'd  and  window'd  raggedness5,  defend  you 

9  That  of  two  concomitant  pains,  the  greater  obscures  or  re- 
lieves the  less,  is  an  aphorism  of  Hippocrates.  See  Disquisitions 
Metaphysical  and  Literary,  by  F.  Sayers,  M.  D.  1793,  p.  68. 
'  He  lesser  pangs  can  bear  who  hath  endur'd  the  chief.' 

Faerie  Queene,  b.  i.  c.  6. 

9  This  line  is  omitted  in  the  quartos. 

4  This  and  the  next  line  are  only  in  the  folio.  They  are  very 
judiciously  intended  to  represent  that  humility,  or  tenderness, 
or  neglect  of  forms  which  affliction  forces  on  the  mind. 

*  Loop'd  and  window'd  is  full  of  holes  and  aperture* :  >3&a  *&»=- 

464  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

From  seasons,  such  as  these?  O,  I  have  ta'en 
Too  little  care  of  this !  Take  physick,  pomp  ; 
Expose  thyself  to  feel  what  wretches  feel; 
That  thou  may'st  shake  the  superflux  to  them, 
And  show  the  heavens  more  just6. 

Edg.  [WithmJ]  Fathom  and  half,  fathom  and 
half!  Poor  Tom7! 

[The  Fool  runs  out  from  the  Hovel 
Fool.  Come  not  in  here,  nuncle,  here's  a  spirit 
Help  me,  help  me ! 
Kent.  Give  me  thy  hand. — Who's  there? 
Fool.  A  spirit,  a  spirit;  he  says  his  name's  poor 

Kent.  What  art  thou  that  dost  grumble  there 
i'the  straw? 
Come  forth. 

Enter  Edgar,  disguised  as  a  Madman, 

Edg.  Away!  the  foul  fiend  follows  me: — 
Through  the  sharp  hawthorn  blows  the  cold  wind.— 
Humph !  go  to  thy  cold  bed,  and  warm  thee8. 

Lear.  Hast  thou  given  all  to  thy  two  daughters? 
And  art  thou  come  to  this  ? 

Edg.  Who  gives  any  thing  to  poor  Tom  ?  whom 
the  foul  fiend  hath  led  through  fire  and  through 

sion  is  to  loop-holes,  such  as  are  found  in  ancient  castles,  and 
designed  for  the  admission  of  light,  where  windows  would  hire 
been  incommodious. 

6  A  kindred  thought  occurs  in  Pericles : — 

'  O  let  those  cities  that  of  Plenty's  cup 
And  her  prosperities  so  largely  taste, 
With  their  superfluous  riots, — hear  these  tears ; 
The  misery  of  Tharsus  may  be  theirs.' 

7  This  speech  of  Edgar's  is  omitted  in  the  quartos.  He  gives 
the  sign  used  by  those  who  are  sounding  the  depth  at  sea. 

8  So  in  the  Induction  to  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  Sly  says, 
'  Go  to  thy  cold  bed  and  warm  thee ;'  which  is  supposed  to  be  in 
ridicule  of  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  or  some  play  equally  absurd. 
The  word  cold  \s  oin&\to&  va  >to«  \*Xv>. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  465 

flame,  through  ford  and  whirlpool,  over  bog  and 
quagmire9,  that  hath  laid  knives  under  his  pillow, 
and  halters  in  his  pew;  set  ratsbane  by  his  por- 
ridge ;  made  him  proud  of  heart,  to  ride  on  a  bay 
trotting-horse  over  four-inched  bridges,  to  course 
his  own  shadow  for  a  traitor : — Bless  thy  five  wits 10 ! 
Tom's  a-cold.— O,  do  de,  do  de,  do  de. — Bless  thee 
from  whirlwinds,  star-blasting,  and  taking11!  Do 
poor  Tom  some  charity,  whom  the  foul  fiend  vexes : 
There  could  I  have  him  now, — and  there, — and 
there,  and  there  again,  and  there.  [Storm  continues. 

Lear.  What,  have  his  daughters  brought  him  to 
this  pass  ? — 
CoukTstthou  save  nothing?  Did'stthou  give  them  all? 

Fool.  Nay,  he  reserved  a  blanket,  else  we  had 
been  all  ashamed. 

9  Alluding  to  the  ignis  fatuus,  supposed  to  be  lights  kindled 
by  mischievous  beings  to  lead  travellers  into  destruction.  He 
afterwards  recounts  the  temptations  by  which  he  was  prompted 
to  suicide ;  the  opportunities  of  destroying  himself,  which  often 
occurred  to  him  in  his  melancholy  moods.  Infernal  spirits  are 
always  represented  as  urging  the  wretched  to  self-destruction. 
So  in  Dr.  Faustus,  1604  :— 

'  Swords,  poisons,  halters,  and  envenom'd  steel, 

Are  laid  before  me  to  despatch  myself.' 
Shakspeare  found  this  charge  against  the  fiend  in  Harsnet's  De- 
claration, 1603,  before  cited. 

10  It  has  been  before  observed  that  the  toits  seem  to  have  been 
reckoned  five  by  analogy  to  the  five  senses.  They  were  some- 
times confounded  by  old  writers,  as  in  the  instances  cited  by 
Percy  and  Steevens j  Shakspeare,  however,  in  his  141st  Sonnet, 
considers  them  as  distinct. 

'  But  my  five  wits  nor  my  five  senses  can 
Dissuade  one  foolish  heart  from  serving  thee.' 
See  vol.  ii.  p.  120,  note  10. 

11  To  take  is  to  blast,  or  strike  with  malignant  influence.  See 
vol.  i.  p.  268,  note  2.     See  also  a  former  passage : — 

' strike  her  young  bones, 

Ye  taking  airs,  with  lameness.' 

466  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Lear.  Now,  all  the  plagues  thai  in  the  penduloes 
Hang  fated  o'er  men's  faults12,  light  on  thy  daughters! 

Kent.  He  hath  no  daughters,  sir. 

Lear.  Death,  traitor !  nothing  could  have  subdu'd 
To  such  a  lowness,  but  his  unkind  daughters. — 
Is  it  the  fashion,  that  discarded  fathers 
Should  have  thus  little  mercy  on  their  flesh  ? 
Judicious  punishment  (  'twas  this  flesh  begot 
Those  pelican  daughters 13. 

Edg.  Pillicock14  sat  on  pillicock's-hill ; — 
Halloo,  halloo,  loo,  loo ! 

Fool.  This  cold  night  will  turn  us  all  to  fools  and 

Edg.  Take  heed  o'the  foul  fiend:  Obey  thy  pa- 
rents; keep  thy  word  justly;  swear  not;  commit 
not  with  man's  sworn  spouse;  set  not  thy  sweet- 
heart on  proud  array :  Tom's  a-cold. 

Lear.  What  hast  thou  been  ? 

Edg.  A  serving-man,  proud  in  heart  and  mind; 
that  curled  my  hair15;  wore  gloves  in  my  cap16; 

12  So  in  Timon  of  Athens : — 

'  Be  as  a  planetary  plague,  when  Jove 

Will  o'er  some  high-view'd  city  hang  his  poison 

In  the  sick  air.' 

13  The  young  pelican  is  fabled  to  suck  the  mother's  blood. 
The  allusions  to  this  fable  are  very  numerous  in  old  writers. 

14  See  Act  ii.  Sc.  3,  note  6,  p.  437,  ante.  It  should  be  ob- 
served that  Killico  is  one  of  the  devils  mentioned  in  Harsnet's 
book.  The  inquisitive  reader  may  find  a  further  explanation  of 
this  word  in  a  note  to  the  translation  of  Rabelais,  edit.  1750, 
vol.  i.  p.  184.  In  Minsheu's  Dictionary,  art.  9299 ;  and  Chal- 
mers's Works  of  Sir  David  Lindsay,  Glossary,  v.  pillok. 

15  '  Then  Ma.  Mainy,  by  the  instigation  of  the  first  of  the 
seven  [spirits],  began  to  set  his  hands  unto  his  side,  curled  his 
hair,  and  used  such  gestures  as  Ma.  Edmunds  [the  exorcist]  pre- 
sently affirmed  that  that  spirit  was  Pride.    Herewith  he  began 

SC.  IV.  KINO  LEAR.  467 

served  the  lust  of  my  mistress's  heart,  and  did  the 
act  of  darkness  with  her;  swore  as  many  oaths  as 
I  spake  words,  and  broke  them  in  the  sweet  face  of 
heaven:  one,  that  slept  in  the  contriving  of  lust, 
and  waked  to  do  it:  Wine  loved  I  deeply;  dice 
dearly;  and  in  woman,  out-paramoured  the  Turk: 
False  of  heart,  light  of  ear 1T,  bloody  of  hand;  Hog 
in  sloth,  fox  in  stealth,  wolf  in  greediness,  dog  in 
madness,  lion  in  prey.  Let  not  the  creaking  of 
shoes,  nor  the  rustling  of  silks,  betray  thy  poor 
heart  to  women:    Keep  thy  foot  out  of  brothels, 

to  curse  and  banne,  saying,  What  a  poxe  do  I  here  ?  I  will  stay 
no  longer  among  a  company  of  rascal  priests,  bat  go  to  the 
court,  and  brave  it  amongst  my  fellows,  the  noblemen  there 

assembled.' '  Shortly  after  they  [the  seven  spirits]  were  all 

cast  forth,  and  in  such  manner  as  Ma.  Edmunds  directed  them, 
which  was,  that  every  devil  should  depart  in  some  certaine 
forme,  representing  either  a  beast  or  some  other  creatnre  that 
had  the  resemblance  of  that  sinne  whereof  he  was  the  chief  au- 
thor :  whereupon  the  spirit  of  Pride  departed  in  the  forme  of  a 
peacock;  the  spirit  of  Sloth  in  the  likeness  of  an  asse;  the  spirit 
of  Envie  in  the  similitude  of  a  dog ;  the  spirit  of  Gluttony  in  the 
form  of  a  tcolfe ;  and  the  other  devils  had  also  in  their  depar- 
ture their  particular  likenesses  agreeable  to  their  natures.'— 
Harsnet's  Declaration,  &c.  1603.  Before  each  sin  was  cast  out 
Mainy,  by  gestures,  acted  that  particular  sin — curling  his  hair, 
to  show  pride,  &c.  &c. 

16  It  was  anciently  the  custom  to  wear  gloves  in  the  hat  on 
three  distinct  occasions,  viz.  as  the  favour  of  a  mistress,  the 
memorial  of  a  friend,  and  as  a  mark  to  be  challenged  by  an 
enemy.  Prince  Henry  boasts  that  he  will  pluck  a  glove  from  the 
commonest  creature  and  wear  it  in  his  helmet.  And  Tucca  says  to 
Sir  Quintilian,  in  Decker's  Satiromastix : — *  Thou  shalt  wear 
her  glove  in  thy  worshipful  hat,  like  to  a  leather  brooch.'  And 
Pandora,  in  Lyly's  Woman  in  the  Moon,  1597 : — 

' he  that  first  presents  me  with  his  head 

Shall  wear  my  glove  in  favour  of  the  dead.' 
Portia,  in  her  assumed  character,  asks  Bassanio  for  his  gloves, 
which  she  says  she  will  wear  for  his  sake :  and  King  Henry  V. 
gives  the  pretended  glove  of  Alencon  to  Fluellen,  which  after- 
wards occasions  his  quarrel  with  the  English  soldier. 

17  Credulous  of  evil,  ready  to  receive  malicious  remits.  < 

468  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

thy  hand  out  of  plackets18,  thy  pen  from  lenders' 
books19,  and  defy  the  foul  fiend.— Still  through  die 
hawthorn  blows  the  cold  wind :  Says  suum,  mun, 
ha  no  nonny,  dolphin  my  boy,  my  boy,  sessa;  let 
him  trot  by20.  [Storm  still  continues. 

Lear,  Why,  thou  were  better  in  thy  grave,  than 
to  answer  with  thy  uncovered  body  this  extremity 
of  the  skies. — Is  man  no  more  than  this  ?  Consider 
him  well :  Thou  owest  the  worm  no  silk,  the  beast 
no  hide,  the  sheep  no  wool,  the  cat  no  perfume: 
— Ha !  here's  three  of  us  are  sophisticated !  — Thou 
art  the  thing  itself: — unaccommodated  man  is  no 

18  See  toI.  iv.  p.  98,  note  67. 

19  When  spendthrifts,  &c.  resorted  to  usurers  or  tradesmen 
for  the  purpose  of  raising  money  by  means  of  shop  goods,  or 
brown  paper  commodities,  they  usually  entered  their  promissory 
notes,  or  other  similar  obligations,  in  books  kept  for  that  pur- 
pose. In  Lodge's  Looking  Glasse  for  England,  .1598,  4to.  a 
usurer  says  to  a  gentleman,  '  I  have  thy  hand  set  to  my  hook, 
that  thou  received'st  forty  pounds  of  me  in  monie.'  To  which 
the  other  answers,  '  It  was  your  device  to  colour  the  statute, 
but  your  conscience  knows  what  I  had.' 

*  If  I  but  write  my  name  in  mercer's  books, 
I  am  as  sure  to  have  at  six  months  end 
A  rascal  at  my  elbow  with  his  mace/  &c. 

All  Fools,  by  Chapman,  1605. 

90  '  Dolphin  my  boy,  my  boy, 

Cease,  let  him  trot  by ; 
It  seemeth  not  that  such  a  foe 

From  me  or  you  wonld  fly/ 
This  is  a  stanza  from  a  very  old  ballad,  written  on  some  battle 
fought  in  France ;  during  which  the  king,  unwilling  to  put  the 
suspected  valour  of  his  son  the  Dauphin  to  the  trial,  therefore, 
as  different  champions  cross  the  field,  the  king  always  discovers 
some  objection  to  his  attacking  each  of  them,  and  repeats  the 
two  first  lines  as  every  fresh  personage  is  introduced j  and  at 
last  assists  in  propping  up  a  dead  body  against  a  tree  for  him 
to  try  his  manhood  upon.  Steevens  had  this  account  from  an 
old  gentleman,  who  was  only  able  to  report  part  of  the  ballad. 
In  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair,  Cokes  cries  out,  '  God's  my  life ! 
He  shall  be  Dauphin,  my  boy!'  '  Hey  nonny  nonny  is  merely 
the  burthen  of  another  old  ballad. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  469 

more  but  such  a  poor,  bare,  forked  animal  as  thou 
art. — Off,  off,  you  tendings: — Come;  unbutton 
here21.  [Tearing  off  his  Clothes. 

Fool.  'Pr'yihee,  nuncle,  be  contented;  this  is  a 
naughty22  night  to  swim  in. — Now  a  little  fire  in  a 
wild  field  were  like  an  old  lecher's  heart;  a  small 
spark,  all  the  rest  of  his  body  cold. — Look,  here 
comes  a  walking  fire. 

Edg.  This  is  the  foul  fiend  Flibbertigibbet23 :  he 
begins  at  curfew,  and  walks  till  the  first  cock ;  he 
gives  the  web  and  the  pin 24,  squints  the  eye,  and 

21  The  words  unbutton  here  are  only  in  the  folio.  The  quartos 
read,  Come  on,  be  true. 

39  Naughty  signifies  bad,  unfit,  improper.  This  epithet,  which, 
as  it  stands  here,  excites  a  smile,  in  the  age  of  Shakspeare  was 
employed  on  serious  occasions.  The  merriment  of  the  Fool  de- 
pended on  his  general  image,  and  not  on  the  qnaintness  of  its 

33  The  name  of  this  fiend,  though  so  grotesque,  was  not  in- 
vented by  Shakspeare,  but  by  those  who  wished  to  impose  upon 
tbeir  hearers  the  belief  of  his  actual  existence :  this  and  most 
of  the  fiends  mentioned  by  Edgar  being  to  be  found  in  Bishop 
Harsnet's  book,  among  those  which  the  Jesuits,  about  the  time 
of  the  Spanish  invasion,  pretended  to  cast  out,  for  the  purpose 
of  making  converts.  The  principal  scene  of  this  farce  was  laid 
in  the  family  of  Mr.  Edmund  Peckham,  a  Catholic.  Harsenet 
published  his  account  of  the  deteotion  of  the  imposture,  by 
order  of  the  privy  council.    '  Frateretto,  FUberdigibet,  Hober- 

didance,  Tocobatto,  were  four  devils  of  the  round  or  morrice 

These  four  had  forty  assistants  under  them,  as  themselves  doe 
confesse.  Flebergibbe  is  used  by  Latimer  for  a  sycophant.  And 
Cotgrave  explains  Coquette  by  a  Flebergibet  or  Titifill.' 

It  was  an  old  tradition  that  spirits  were  relieved  from  the  con- 
finement in  which  they  were  held  during  the  day,  at  the  time  of 
curfew,  that  is,  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  were  permitted  to 
wander  at  large  till  the  first  cock-crowing.  Hence,  in  The 
Tempest,  they  are  said  to  '  rejoice  to  hear  the  solemn  curfew/ 
See  vol.  i.  p.  26,  note  32 ;  and  Hamlet,  Act  i.  Sc.  1,  and  So.  5. 

94  The  pin  and  voeb  is  a  disease  of  the  eyes  resembling  the 
cataract  in  an  imperfect  stage.  Acerbi,  in  his  Travels,  vol.  ii. 
p.  20,  has  given  the  Lapland  method  of  cure. 

VOL.  IX.  S  S 

470  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

makes  the  hare-lip ;  mildews  the  white  wheat,  and 
hurts  the  poor  creature  of  earth. 

Saint  Wit  hold  footed  thrice  the  wold*5; 
He  met  the  night-mare,  and  her  nine-fold ; 
Bid  her  alight. 
And  her  troth  plight, 
And,  aroint  thee,  witch,  aroint  thee  %6 1 
Kent.  How  fares  your  grace  ? 

Enter  Glostbr,  urith  a  Torch, 

Lear.  What's  he  ? 

Kent.  Who's  there?  What  is't  you  seek? 

Olo.  What  are  you  there?  Your  names? 

Edg.  Poor  Tom;  that  eats  the  swimming  frog, 
the  toad,  the  tadpole,  the  wall-newt,  and  the  water87; 
that  in  the  fury  of  the  heart,  when  the  foul  fiend 
rages,  eats  cow-dung  for  sallets ;  swallows  the  old 
rat,  and  the  ditch-dog;  drinks  the  green  mantle  of 

85  About  St.  Withold  we  have  no  certainty.  This  adventure 
is  not  found  in  the  common  legends  of  St.  Vitalis,  whom  Mr.  Tyr- 
whitt  thought  was  meant.  The  tvold  is  a  plain  and  open  country; 
pofr>,  Saxon :  a  country  withont  wood,  whether  hilly  or  not  It 
appears  to  have  been  pronounced  old,  or  ould,  and  is  sometimes 
so  written.  Bullokar  calls  it  a  sheep-walk.  We  have  Stow-oo- 
the-Wold  in  Gloucestershire.  The  wold  also  designates  a  large 
tract  of  country  on  the  borders  of  Bedfordshire  and  Northamp- 
tonshire ;  and  CotsicoW  in  Gloucestershire.  Antiquaries  are 
divided  in  opinion  whether  weald  is  of  the  same  family,  as  it  is 
said  to  mean  a  woody  country.  '  Her  nine-/oW  seems  to  be  put 
for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme,  instead  of  nine  foals.  For  what  pur- 
pose the  incubus  is  enjoined  to  plight  her  troth  will  appear  from 
a  charm  against  the  night-mare  in  Scot's  Discovery  of  Witch- 
craft, which  occurs,  with  slight  variation,  in  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  Monsieur  Thomas : — 

'  S.  George,  S.  George,  our  ladies  knight, 

He  walk'd  by  daie,  so  did  he  by  night, 

Until  such  time  as  he  hir  found : 

He  hir  beat,  and  he  hir  bound, 

Until  hir  she  to  him  plight. 

She  would  not  come  to  [him]  that  night/ 

86  See  MacWSi.  v  i,  e.  and  the  water-newl. 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  471 

the  standing  pool ;  who  is  whipped  from  tything  to 
tything,  and  stocked,  punished,  and  imprisoned; 
who  hath  had  three  suits  to  his  hack,  six  shirts  to 
his  body,  horse  to  ride,  and  weapon  to  wear, — 
But  mice  and  rats,  and  such  small  deer, 
Have  been  Tom's  food  for  seven  long  year**. 
Beware  my  follower:    Peace,  Smolkin29;    peace, 
thou  fiend ! 

Glo.  What,  hath  your  grace  no  better  company  ? 

Edg.  The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman; 
Modo  he's  call'd,  and  Mahu^. 

Glo.  Our  flesh  and  blood,  my  lord,  is  grown  so  vile, 
That  it  doth  hate  what  gets  it. 

JEdg.  Poor  Tom's  a-cold. 

Glo.  Go  in  with  me ;  my  duty  cannot  suffer 
To  obey  in  all  your  daughter's  hard  commands : 
Though  their  injunction  be  to  bar  my  doors, 
And  let  this  tyrannous  night  take  hold  upon  you, 

38  In  the  metrical  Romance  of  Sir  Bevis,  who  was  confined 
seven  years  in  a  dungeon,  it  is  said  that — 

'  Rattes  and  mice,  and  such  smal  dere, 
Was  his  meat  that  seven  yere.' 

29  *  The  names  of  other  punie  spirits  cast  ont  of  Twyford  were 
these: — Hilco,  Smolkin,  Hillio,'  &c. — Harsnefs  Detection,  &c. 
p.  49.  Again,  '  Maho  was  the  chief  devil  that  had  possession 
of  Sarah  Williams ;  bat  another  of  the  possessed,  named  Richard 
Mainy,  was  molested  by  a  still  more  considerable  fiend,  called 
Modu/  p.  268 ;  where  the  said  Richard  Mainy  deposes : — '  Fur- 
thermore it  is  pretended,  that  there  remaineth  still  in  mee  the 
prince  of  devils,  whose  name  should  be  Modu,*  And,  p.  269 : — 
'  When  the  said  priests  had  despatched  their  business  at  Hack- 
ney (where  they  had  been  exorcising  Sarah  Williams),  they  then 
returned  towards  mee,  upon  pretence  to  cast  the  great  prince 
Modu  oat  of  mee.' 

In  the  Goblins,  by  Sir  John  Suckling,  a  catch  is  introduced, 
which  concludes  with  these  two  lines : — . 

'  The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman ; 
Mahu,  Mahu  is  his  name.' 
This  catch  may  not  be  the  production  of  Suckling,  but  the  ori- 
ginal referred  to  by  Edgar's  speech. 

472  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Yet  have  I  ventured  to  come  to  seek  you  out, 
And  bring  you  where  both  fire  and  food  is  ready. 

Lear.  First  let  me  talk  with  this  philosopher: — 
What  is  the  cause  of  thunder  ? 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  take  his  offer; 
Go  into  the  house. 

Lear.  I'll  talk  a  word  with  this  same  learned 
Theban : 
What  is  your  study  ? 

Edg.  How  to  prevent  the  fiend,  and  to  kill  vermin. 

Lear.  Let  me  ask  you  one  word  in  private. 

Kent.  Importune  him  once  more  to  go,  my  lord, 
His  wits  begin  to  unsettle'30. 

Olo.  Canst  thou  blame  him? 

His  daughters  seek  his  death: — Ah,  that  good 

Kent  !— 
He  sai4  it  would  be  thus : — Poor  banish'd  man! — 
Thou  say'st,  the  king  grows  mad ;    I'll  tell  thee, 

I  am  almost  mad  myself;  I  had  a  son, 
Now  outlaw'd  from  my  blood ;  he  sought  my  life, 
But  lately,  very  late ;  I  lov'd  him,  friend, — 
No  father  his  son  dearer :  true  to  tell  thee, 

[Storm  continues. 

90  Lord  Orford  has  the  following  remark  in  the  postscript  to 
his  Mysterious  Mother,  which  deserves  a  place  here : — '  When 
Belvidera  talks  oHutes,  laurels,  seas  of  milk,  and  ships  of  Amber, 
she  is  not  mad,  hat  light-headed.  When  madness  has  taken 
possession  of  a  person,  sach  character  ceases  to  he  fit  for  the 
stage,  or  at  least  should  appear  there  hut  for  a  short  time;  it 
being  the  business  of  the  theatre  to  exhibit  passions,  not  dis- 
tempers. The  finest  picture  ever  drawn  of  a  head  discomposed 
by  misfortune  is  that  of  King  Lear.  His  thoughts  dwell  on  the 
ingratitude  of  his  daughters,  and  every  sentence  that  falls  from 
his  wildness  excites  reflection  and  pity.  Had  frenzy  entirely 
seized  him,  our  compassion  would  abate ;  we  should  conclude 
that  he  no  longer  felt  unhappiness.  Shakspeare  wrote  as  a  phi- 
losopher, Otway  as  a  poet' 

SC.  IV.  KING  LEAR.  473 

The  grief  hath  craz'd  my  wits.   What  a  night's  this* ! 
I  do  beseech  your  grace, — 

Lear.  O,  cry  you  mercy, 

Noble  philosopher,  your  company. 
Edg.  Tom's  a-cold. 
Glo.  In,  fellow,  there,  to  the  hovel;  keep  thee 

Lear.  Come,  let's  in  all. 
Kent.  This  way,  my  lord. 

Lear.  With  him ; 

I  will  keep  still  with  my  philosopher. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  sooth  him;  let  him  take 

the  fellow. 
Glo.  Take  him  you  on. 
Kent.  Sirrah,  come  on ;  go  along  with  us. 
Lear.  Come,  good  Athenian. 
Glo.  No  words,  no  words : 

'  Edg.  Child  Rowland31  to  the  dark  tower  came, 
His  word  was  still, — Fie,  f oh,  and  f urn, 
I  smell  the  blood  of  a  British  man. 


31  Capel  observes  that  Child  Rowland  means  the  Knight  Or- 
lando. He  would  read  come,  with  the  quartos  absolutely  (Orlando 
being  come  to  the  dark  tower);  and  supposes  a  line  to  be  lost 
'  which  spoke  of  some  giant,  the  inhabitant  of  that  tower,  and 
the  smeller-out  of  Child  Rowland,  who  comes  to  encounter  him.' 
He  proposes  to  fill  up  the  passage  thus : — 

'  Child  Rowland  to  the  dark  tower  come, 

[The  giant  roar'd,  and  out  he  ran] ; 

His  word  was  still/  &c. 
Part  of  this  is  to  be  found  in  the  second  part  of  Jack  and  the 
Giants,  which,  if  not  as  old  as  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  may  have 
been  compiled  from  something  that  was  so :  they  are  uttered  by 
a  giant  :— 

'  Fee,faw,fumt 

I  smell  the  blood  of  an  Englishman ; 

Be  he  alive,  or  be  he  dead, 

I'll  grind  his  bones  to  make  my  bread.' 

474  KING  LEAR.  ACT  HI. 

SCENE  V.     A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Cornwall  and  Edmund. 

Com.  I  will  have  my  revenge,  ere  I  depart  this 

Edm.  How,  my  lord,  I  may  be  censured,  that 
nature  thus  gives  way  to  loyalty,  something  fears 
me  to  think  of. 

Corn.  I  now  perceive,  it  was  not  altogether  your 
brother's  evil  disposition  made  him  seek  his  death; 
but  a  provoking  merit1,  set  a-work  by  a  reprove- 
able  badness  in  himself. 

Edm.  How  malicious  is  my  fortune,  that  I  must 
repent  to  be  just!  This  is  the  letter  he  spoke  of, 
which  approves  him  an  intelligent  party  to  the  ad- 
vantages of  France.  O  heavens !  that  this  treason 
were  not,  or  not  I  the  detector ! 

Com.  Go  with  me  to  the  duchess. 

Edm.  If  the  matter  of  this  paper  be  certain,  you 
have  mighty  business  in  hand. 

Corn.  True,  or  false,  it  hath  made  thee  earl  of 
Gloster.  Seek  out  where  thy  father  is,  that  he  may 
be  ready  for  our  apprehension. 

Edm.  [Aside.]  If  I  find  him  comforting  the  king, 
it  will  stuff  his  suspicion  more  fully. — I  will  perse- 
vere in  my  course  of  loyalty,  though  the  conflict  be 
sore  between  that  and  my  blood. 

Corn.  I  will  lay  trust  upon  thee ;  and  thou  shalt 
find  a  dearer  father  in  my  love.  [Exeunt. 

1  Cornwall  seems  to  mean  the  merit  of  Edmund ;  which,  being 
noticed  by  Gloster,  provoked  or  instigated  Edgar  to  seek  hii 
father's  death. 

KINO  LEAR.  475 

A  Chamber  in  a  Farm- Howe  9  adjoining  the  Castle. 

Enter  Gloster,  Lear,  Kent,  Fool,  and 


Glo.  Here  is  better  than  the  open  air;  take  it 
thankfully :  I  will  piece  out  the  comfort  with  what 
addition  I  can :  I  will  not  be  long  from  you. 

Kent.  All  the  power  of  his  wits  has  given  way 
to  his  impatience: — The  gods  reward  your  kind- 
ness! [Exit  Gloster. 

Edg.  Frateretto1  calls  me;  and  tells  me  Nero  is 
an  angler  in  the  lake  of  darkness.  Pray,  innocent2, 
and  beware  the  foul  fiend. 
.  Fool.  'Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  tell  me,  whether  a  mad- 
man be  a  gentleman,  or  a  yeoman? 

Lear.  A  king,  a  king ! 

Fool.  No ;  he's  a  yeoman,  that  has  a  gentleman 
to  his  son ;  for  he's  a  mad  yeoman,  that  sees  his 
son  a  gentleman  before  him. 

Lear.  To  have  a  thousand  with  red  burning  spits 
Come  hissing3  in  upon  them: — 

Edg.  The  foul  fiend  bites  my  back4. 

1  See  the  quotation  from  Harsenet,  in  note  23  on  the  pre- 
ceding scene.  Rabelais  says  that  Nero  was  a  fiddler  in  hell, 
and  Trajan  an  angler.  The  history  of  Garagantna  had  appeared 
in  English  before  1575,  being  mentioned  in  Laneham's  Letter 
from  Rillingworth,  printed  in  that  year. 

3  Perhaps  he  is  here  addressing  the  Fool  Fools  were  anci- 
ently termed  innocents.  So  in  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  Act  iv. 
Sc.  3 : — '  The  sheriff's  fool — a  dnmb  innocent,  that  could  not  say 
him  nay.' 

9  The  old  copies  hare  hizzwg,  which  Malone  changed  to 
whizzing.  One  of  the  quartos  spells  the  word  his  zing,  which 
indicates  that  the  reading  of  the  present  text  is  right. 

4  This  and  the  next  thirteen  speeohes  are  only  in  the  quartos* 

476  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Fool,  He's  mad,  that  trusts  in  the  tameness  of  a 
wolf,  a  horse's  heels5,  a  boy's  love,  or  a  whore's  • 


Lear.   It  shall  be  done,   I  will  arraign  them 
straight: — 

Come,  sit  thou  here,  most  learned  justicer6: 

[To  Edgar. 
Thou,  sapient  sir,  sit  here.     [To  the  Fool] — Now, 
you  she  foxes ! — 
Edg.  Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares ! — 
Wantest  thou  eyes  at  trial,  madam7  ? 

Come  o'er  the  bourn*,  Bessy,  to  me: — 
Fool.  Her  boat  hath  a  leak. 
And  she  must  not  speak 
Why  she  dares  not  come  over  to  thee* 

6  The  old  copies  read,  '  a  horse's  health  ;*  bat  keels  was  cer- 
tainly meant.  '  Trust  not  a  horse's  heels,  nor  a  dog's  tooth,'  is  a 
proverb  in  Raj's  Collection ;  which  may  be  traced  at  least  as 
far  back  as  the  time  of  our  Edward  II.  '  Et  ideo  Babio  in 
comoediis  insinuat  dicens ; — In  fide,  dente,  pede,  mulieris,  eqw 
canis  est  fraus. — Hoc  sic  vulgariter  est  dici : — 
'  Till  horsisfote  thou  never  traist, 
Till  hondis  toth,  ne  woman's  faith.' 

Forduni  Scotichronicon,  I.  xiv.  c.  32. 

The  proverb  in  the  text  is  probably  from  the  Italian. 

6  Justicer,  from  Justiciarius,  was  the  old  term,  as  we  learn 
from  Lambard's  Eirenarcha : — '  And  of  this  it  commeth  that 
M.  Fitzherbert  (in  his  Treatise  of  the  Justices  of  Peace),  call- 
eth  them  justicer s  (contractly  for  justiciars),  and  not  justices,  as 
we  commonly  and  not  altogether  improperly  doe  name  them.' 

7  When  Edgar  says,  '  Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares !'  he 
seems  to  be  speaking  in  the  character  of  a  madman,  who  thinks 
he  sees  the  fiend.  '  Wantest  thou  eyes  at  trial,  madam  f  is  a 
question  addressed  to  some  visionary  spectator,  and  may  mean 
no  more  than  '  Do  you  want  eyes  when  you  should  use  them 
most  ?  that  you  cannot  see  this  spectre.' 

8  A  bourn  is  a  brook  or  rivulet.  See  vol.  vii.  p.  375.  At  the 
beginning  of  A  Very  Mery  and  Pythie  Comedie,  called  The 
Longer  Thou  Livest  The  More  Fool  Thou  Art,  &o.  blk  let.  no 
date : — '  Entretb  Moros,  oounterfaiting  a  vain  gesture  and  fool- 

SC.  VI.  KING  LEAR.  477 

Edg.  The  foul  fiend  haunts  poor  Tom  in  the 
voice  of  a  nightingale.  Hopdance  cries  in  Tom's 
belly9  for  two  white  herrings.  Croak  not,  black 
angel ;  I  have  no  food  for  thee. 

Kent.  How  do  you,  sir  ?  Stand  you  not  so  amaz'd : 
Will  you  lie  down  and  rest  upon  the  cushions  ? 
Lear.  I'll  see  their  trial. first: — Bring  in  the  evi- 
Thou  robed  man  of  justice,  take  thy  place; 

[To  Edgar. 
And  thou,  his  yoke-fellow  of  equity,  [To  the  Fool. 
Bench  by  his  side: — You  are  of  the  commission, 
Sit  you  too.  [To  Kent. 

JEdg.  Let  us  deal  justly. 

Sleepest,  or  wakest  thou,  jolly  shepherd? 

Thy  sheep  be  in  the  corn; 
And  for  one  blast  of  thy  minikin10  mouth, 
Thy  sheep  shall  take  no  harm. 
Pur !  the  cat  is  gray. 

isfa  countenance,  synging  the  foote  of  many  songs,  as  fooles  were 
wont ;'  and  among  them  is  this  passage  :— 
'  Com  oyer  the  boorne  Besse, 
My  litle  pretie  Bess6, 
Come  over  the  boorne,  Besse"  to  me.' 
The  old  copies  read,  'o'er  the  broome;'  and  Johnson  suggested, 
as  there  was  no  connexion  between  a  boat  and  a  broom,  that  it 
was  an  error.    Steevens  made  the  correction,  and  adduced  this 
illustration.  There  is  peculiar  propriety  in  this  address :  Bessy 
and  poor  Tom  usually  travelled  together,  as  appears  by  a  pas- 
sage cited  from  Dick  Whippet's  Sessions,  1607,  by  Malone. — 
Mad  women,  who  travel  about  the  country,  are  called  in  Shrop- 
shire Cousin  Betties,  and  elsewhere  Mad  Bessies. 

9  Much  of  this  may  have  been  suggested  by  Harsenet's  book. 
Sarah  Williams  deposeth,  '  That  if  at  any  time  she  did  belch,  as 
often  times  she  did  by  reason  that  shee  was  troubled  with  a  wind 
in  her  stomacke,  the  priests  would  say  at  such  times,  that  then 

10  Minikin  was  anciently  a  term  of  endearment.  Baret,  in  his 
Alvearie,  interprets  feat  by  '  proper,  well  fashioned,  mtnttin, 

478  x  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Lear.  Arraign  her  first;  'tis  Goneril.  I  here 
take  my  oath  before  this  honourable  assembly,  she 
kicked  the  poor  king  her  father. 

Fool.  Come  hither,  mistress ;  Is  your  name  Go- 

Lear.  She  cannot  deny  it 

Fool.  Cry  you  mercy,  I  took  you  for  a  joint- 

Lear.  And  here's  another,  whose  warp'd  looks 
What  store  her  heart  is  made  of. — Stop  her  there ! 
Arms,  arms,  sword,  fire ! — Corruption  in  the  place ! 
False  justicer,  why  hast  thou  let  her  'scape  ? 

Edg.  Bless  thy  five  wits ! 

Kent.  O  pity ! — Sir,  where  is  the  patience  now, 
That  you  so  oft  have  boasted  to  retain  ? 

Edg.  My  tears  begin  to  take  his  part  so  much, 
They'll  mar  my  counterfeiting.  [Aside. 

Lear.  The  little  dogs  and  all, 
Tray,  Blanch,  and  Sweet-heart,  see,  they  bark  at  me. 

Edg.  Tom  will  throw  his  head  at  them : — A  vaunt, 
you  curs ! 

Be  thy  mouth  or  black  or  white, 
Tooth  that  poisons  if  it  bite ; 
Mastiff,  greyhound,  mongrel  grim, 
Hound,  or  spaniel,  bracb,  or  lym12; 

the  spirit  "began  to  rise  in  her... and  that  the  wind  was  the  devil.' 
'  And  (as  she  saith),  if  they  heard  any  croaking  in  her  belly.... 
then  they  would  make  a  wonderful  matter  of  that/ — Hoberdi- 
dance  is  mentioned  in  a  former  note.  '  One  time  shee  remem- 
bereth  that,  shee  haying  the  said  croaking  in  her  belly,  they  said 
it  was  the  devil  that  was  about  the  bed,  that  spake  with  the  voice 
of  a  toad;  p.  194, 195,  &c. 

n.  This  proverbial  expression  occurs  likewise  in  Lyly's  Mo- 
ther Bombie,  1594. 

13  I  suspect  that  brach  signifies  a  greyhound.  See  vol.  iii.  p. 
342,  note  8.  A  lym  or  lyme  was  a  blood-hound  (see  Minsheu's 
Diet,  in  voce)  *,  sometimes  also  called  a  limmer  or  learner  ;  from 


SC.  VI.  KING  LEAR.  479 

Or  bobtail  tike 13,  or  trundle-tail ; 

Tom  will  make  them  weep  and  wail : 

For,  with  throwing  thus  my  head, 

Dogs  leap  the  hatch,  and  all  are  fled. 
Do  de,  de  de.     Sessa u.     Come,  march  to  wakes 
and  fairs,  and  market  towns : — Poor  Tom,  thy  horn 
is  dry15. 

Lear,  Then  let  them  anatomize  Regan,  see  what 
breeds  about  her  heart:  Is  there  any  cause  in  na- 
ture, that  makes  these  hard  hearts? — You,  sir,  I 
entertain  you  for  one  of  my  hundred;  only  I  do  not 
like  the  fashion  of  your  garments:  you  will  say, 
they  are  Persian  attire  !  but  let  them  be  changed. 

[To  Edgar. 
Kent,  Now,  good  my  lord,  lie  here,  and  rest 
awhile l6. 

the  learn  or  leash,  in  which  he  was  held  till  he  was  let  slip.  In 
the  book  of  Ancient  Tenures,  by  T.  B.  1679,  the  words  '  canes 
domini  regis  lesos,'  are  translated  leash  hounds,  such  as  draw 
after  hart  deer  in  a  leash  or  lyanu  So  Drayton,  in  The  Muses 
Elysium : — 

'My  doghook  at  my  belt,  to  which  my  lyanCs  ty'd.' 

13  Tijh  is  the  Rnnick  word  for  a  little  worthless  dog.  Trmdle- 
tails  are  mentioned  in  The  Booke  of  Hnntyng,  &c.  blk  let.  no 
date ;  and  in  the  old  comedy  of  A  Woman  kill'd  with  Kindness. 

14  Sessa;  this  word  occurs  before  in  the  fourth  Scene  of  this 
Act,  p.  468.  It  is  spelled  Sessey  in  both  places  in  the  old  copy. 
The  same  word  occurs  in  the  Induction  to  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  where  it  is  spelled  sessa :  it  appears  to  have  been  a  cor- 
ruption of  cessez,  stop  or  hold,  be  quiet,  have  done. 

15  A  horn  was  usually  carried  about  by  every  Tom  of  Bedlam, 
to  receive  such  drink  as  the  charitable  might  afford  him,  with 
whatever  scraps  of  food  they  might  give  him.  When,  therefore, 
Edgar  says  his  horn  is  dry,  or  empty,  he  merely  means,  in  the 
language  of  the  character  he  assumes,  to  supplicate  that  it  may 
be  filled  with  drink.  See  A  Pleasant  Dispnte  between  a  Coach 
and  a  Sedan,  4  to.  1636 : — '  I  have  observed  when  a  coach  is  ap- 
pendant bnt  two  or  three  hundred  porfnds  a  yeere,  marke  it,  the 
dogges  are  as  leane  as  rakes ;  you  may  tell  all  their  ribbes  lying 
be  the  fire ;  and  Tom  a  Bedlam  may  sooner  eate  his  home  than 
get  it  filled  with  small  drinhe,  and  for  his  old  almes  of  baoon  there 
is  no  hope  in  the  world/ 

16  i.e.  on  the  cushions  to  which  he  points. 

480  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Lear.  Make  no  noise,  make  no  noise ;  draw  the 
curtains:  So,  so,  so:  Well  go  to  supper  i'tbe 
morning :  So,  so,  so. 

Fool.  And  I'll  go  to  bed  at  noon. 

Re-enter  Gloster. 
Glo.  Come  hither,  friend :  Where  is  the  king  my 

master  ? 
Kent.  Here,  sir;  but  trouble  him  not,  his  wits 

are  gone. 
Glo.  Good  friend,  I  pr'ythee  take  him  in  thy  arms; 
I  have  o'erheard  a  plot  of  death  upon  him : 
There  is  a  litter  ready;  lay  him  in't, 
And  drive  towards  Dover,  friend,  where  thou  shalt 

Both  welcome  and  protection.  Take  up  thy  master: 
If  thou  should'st  dally  half  an  hour,  his  life, 
With  thine,  and  all  that  offer  to  defend  him, 
Stand  in  assured  loss:  Take  .up,  take  up17; 
And  follow  me,  that  will  to  some  provision 
Give  thee  quick  conduct 

[Kent.  OppressM  nature  sleeps18: — 

This  rest  might  yet  have  balm'd  thy  broken  senses, 

Which,  if  convenience  will  not  allow, 

Stand  in  hard  cure. — Come,  help  to  bear  thy  master ; 

Thou  must  not  stay  behind.  [To  Me  Fool. 

Glo.  Come,  come,  away. 

[Exeunt  Kent,  Gloster,  and  the  Fool, 

bearing  off  the  King. 

17  One  of  the  quartos  reads,  '  Take  up  the  king ;'  the  other, 
*  Take  up  to  keep*  &c. 

16  '  These  two  concluding  speeches,  by  Kent  and  Edgar,  are 
restored  from  the  quarto.  The  soliloquy  of  Edgar  is  extremely 
fine ;  and  the  sentiments  of  it  are  drawn  equally  from  nature  and 
the  subject.  Besides,  with  regard  to  the  stage,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary :  for  as  Edgar  is  not  designed,  in  the  constitution  of 
the  play,  to  attend  the  king  to  Dover,  how  absurd  would  it  look 
for  a  character  of  his  importance  to  quit  the  scene  without  one 
word  said,  or  lufeV^%\. AxvVAm^OvQxv^V^^e  are  to  expect  from 
him.'— Theobald. 

SC.  VI.  KING  LEAR.  481 

Edg.  When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes, 
We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes. 
Who  alone  suffers,  suffers  most  i'the  mind; 
Leaving  free  things,  and  happy  shows,  behind: 
But  then  the  mind  much  sufferance  doth  o'erskip, 
When  grief  hath  mates,  and  bearing  fellowship. 
How  light  and  portable  my  pain  seems  now, 
When  that,  which  makes  me  bend,  makes  the  king 

He  childed,  as  I  father'd ! — Tom,  away : 
Mark  the  high  noises19  and  thyself  bewray80, 
When  false  opinion,  whose  wrong  thought  defiles 

In  thy  just  proof,  repeals,  and  reconciles  thee. 
What  will  hap  more  to-night,  safe  scape  the  king! 
Lurk,  lurk.]  [Exit. 

SCENE  VII.     A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Goneril,  Edmund, 

and  Servants. 

Corn.  Post  speedily  to  my  lord  your  husband ; 
show  him  this  letter; — the  army  of  France  is  land- 
ed : — Seek  out  the  villain  Gloster. 

[Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants. 

Reg.  Hang  him  instantly. 

Gon.  Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

Com.  Leave  him  to  my  displeasure.— Edmund, 
keep  you  our  sister  company;  the  revenges  we  are 
bound  to  take  upon  your  traitorous  father,  are  not 
fit  for  your  beholding.  Advise  the  duke,  where 
you  are  going,  to  a  most  festinate  preparation ;  we 
are  bound  to  the  like.     Our  post  shall  be  swift, 

19  The  great  events  that  are  approaching,  the  loud  tumult  of 
approaching  war. 
30  Betray,  discover. 

VOL.  IX.  T  T  v 

4tt  KING  LEAR:  ACT  III. 

and  intelligent  betwixt  us.   Farewell,  dear  sister;— 
farewell,  my  lord  of  Gloster1. 

Enter  Steward. 

How  now  ?  Where's  the  king  ? 

Stew.  My  lord  of  Gloster  hath  convey 'd  him 
hence : 
Some  five  or  six  and  thirty  of  his  knights, 
Hot  questrists2  after  him,  met  him  at  gate; 
Who  with  some  other  of  the  lord's  dependants, 
Are  gone  with  him  towards  Dover;  where  they  boast 
To  have  well  armed  friends. 

Corn.  Get  horses  for  your  mistress. 

Gon.  Farewell,  sweet  lord,  and  sister. 

[Exeunt  Goneril  and  Edmund. 
Corn.  Edmund,  farewell. — Go,  seek  the  traitor 
Pinion  him  like  a  thief,  bring  him  before  us. 

[Exeunt  other  Servants. 
Though  well  we  may  not  pass  upon  his  life 
Without  the  form  of  justice;  yet  our  power 
Shall  do  a  courtesy3  to  our  wrath,  which  men 
May  blame,  but  not  control.     Who's  there  ?  The 

Re-enter  Servants,  with  Gloster. 

Reg.  In  grateful  fox !  'tis  he. 
Corn.  Bind  fast  his  corky  4  arms. 

1  Meaning  Edmund  invested  with  his  father's  titles.  The 
Steward,  speaking  immediately  after,  mentions  the  old  earl  bj 
the  same  title. 

2  A  questrist  is  one  who  goes  in  quest  or  search  of  another. 

3  '  Do  a  courtesy  to  our  wrath,  simply  means  bend  to  our 
wrath,  as  a  courtesy  is  made  by  bending  the  body.  To  pass  on 
any  one  may  be  traced  from  Magna  Charta : — '  Neque  super  enm 
ibimus,  nisi  per  legale  judicuum  parium  suorum.'  It  is  common 
to  most  of  our  early  writers — '  A  jury  of  devils  impanneled  and 
deeply  sworne  to  pass  on  all  villains  in  hell.' — If  this  be  not  a 
Good  Play  the  Devil  vsmU,  \fil2. 

4  i.  e.  drtj,  wVfcWu-,  VusVey  «t\u%»   'Wcv*  ^\^\n^&  perhaps 

SC.  VII.  KING  LEAR.  483 

Glo.   What  mean  your  graces? Good  my 

friends,  consider 
You  are  my  guests :  do  me  no  foul  play,  friends. 

Corn.  Bind  him,  I  say.  [Servants  bind  him. 

Reg.  Hard,  hard : — O  filthy  traitor. 

Glo.  Unmerciful  lady  as  you  are,  I  am  none. 

Corn.   To  this  chair  bind  him: — Villain,  thou 
shalt  find —        [Regan  plucks  his  Beard. 

Glo.  By  the  .kind  gods,  'tis  most  ignobly  done, 
To  pluck  me  by  the  beard. 

Meg.  So  white,  and  such  a  traitor ! 

Glo.  Naughty  lady, 

These  hairs,  which  thou  dost  ravish  from  my  chin, 
Will  quicken  5,  and  accuse  thee :  I  am  your  host ; 
With  robbers'  hands,  my  hospitable  favours  6 
You  should  not  ruffle  thus.     What  will  you  do? 

Corn.  Come,  sir,  what  letters  had  you  late  from 

Reg.  Be  simple  answer'd,  for  we  know  the  truth. 

Com.  And  what  confederacy  have  you  with  the 
Late  footed  in  the  kingdom  ? 

Reg.  To  whose  hands  have  you  sent  the  lunatick 

Glo.  I  have  a  letter  guessingly  set  down, 
Which  came  from  one  that's  of  a  neutral  heart, 
And  not  from  one  oppos'd. 

Corn.  Cunning. 

Reg.  And  false. 

borrowed  from  Harsenet : — It  would  pose  all  the  cunning  exor- 
cists that  are  this  day  to  be  found,  to  teach  an  old  corkie  woman 
to  writhe,  tumble,  curvet,  and  fetch  her  morice  gambols  as  Mar- 
tha Bressier  did.' 

6  i.  e.  quicken  into  life. 

6  Favours  mean  the  same  as  features ;  that  is,  the  different 
parts  of  which  a  face  is  composed. 

484  KING  LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Com.  Where  hast  thou  sent  the  king? 
Glo.  To  Dover. 

Reg.  Wherefore 

To  Dover?  Wast  thou  not  charged  at  peril — 
Com.  Wherefore  to  Dover?  Let  him  first  answer 

Glo.  I  am  tied  to  the  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the 

Reg.  Wherefore  to  Dover? 
Glo.  Because  I  would  not  see  thy  cruel  nails 
Pluck  out  his  poor  old  eyes ;  nor  thy  fierce  sister 
In  his  anointed  flesh  stick8  boarish  fangs. 
The  sea,  with  such  a  storm  as  his  bare  head 
In  hell-black  night  endur'd,  would  have  buoy'd  up, 
And  quench'd  the  stelled9  fires :  yet,  poor  old  heart, 
He  holp  the  heavens  to  rain. 
If  wolves  had  at  thy  gate  howPd  that  stern 10  time, 
Thou  should'st  have  said,  Good  porter,  turn  the  key; 
All  cruels  else  subscribed11: — But  I  shall  see 
The  winged  vengeance  overtake  such  children. 
Com.  See  it  shalt  thou  never: — Fellows,  hold 
the  chair : 
Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I'll  set  my  foot18. 

[Gloster  is  held  down  in  his  Chair,  while 
Cornwall  plucks  out  one  of  his  Eyes,  and 
sets  his  Foot  on  it, 

7  So  in  Macbeth : — ' 

'  They  have  chain' d  me  to  a  stake;  I  cannot  fly, 
Bat,  bear-like,  I  must  fight  the  course.' 

8  The  quarto  reads, '  rash  boarish  fangs.'  To  rash  is  the  old 
hunting  term  for  the  stroke  made  by  a  wild  boar  with  his  fangs. 

9  Starred. 

10  Thus  the  folio.  The  quartos  read, '  that  dean  time.'  Dean 
is  dreary.  The  reading  in  the  text  is  countenanced  by  Chap- 
man's version  of  the  24th  Iliad : — 

' in  this  so  sterne  a  time 

Of  night  and  danger.' 

11  i.  e.  yielded,  submitted  to  the  necessity  of  the  occasion. 

12  This  VkOTTW»\e  «^^\^oVv&\AV\oAx^««SL<^»ax^  than  that  of 

SC.  VII.  KING  LEAR.  485 

Glo.  He,  that  will  think  to  live  till  he  be  old, 
Give  me  some  help : — O  cruel !  O  ye  gods ! 

Reg.  One  side  will  mock  another ;  the  other  too. 
Corn,  If  you  see  vengeance, — 
Serv.  Hold  your  hand,  my  lord : 

I  have  servM  you  ever  since  I  was  a  child; 
But  better  service  have  I  never  done  you, 
Than  now  to  bid  you  hold. 
Reg.  How  now,  you  dog? 
Serv.  If  you  did  wear  a  beard  upon  your  chin, 
I'd  shake  it  on  this  quarrel ;  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Corn.  My  villain 1S !      [Draws,  and  runs  at  him. 
Serv.  Nay,  then  come  on,  and  take  the  chance 
of  anger. 
[Draws.    They  fight.    Corn,  is  wounded. 
Reg.  Give  me  thy  sword. — [To  another  Serv.] 
A  peasant  stand  up  thus ! 
[Snatches  a  Sword,  comes  behind  him,  and 
stabs  him. 
Serv.  O,  I  am  slain ! — My  lord,  you  have  one 
eye  left 
To  see  some  mischief  on  him : — O !  [Dies. 

Corn.  Lest  it  see  more,  prevent  it: — Out,  vile 

Where  is  thy  lustre  now  ? 

[Tears  ow£  Gloster's  other  eye,  and  throws 
it  on  the  ground. 

some  contemporary  dramas.  In  Selimus,  Emperor  of  the  Turks, 
one  of  the  sons  of  Bajazet,  pulls  out  the  eyes  of  an  Aga  on  the 
stage,  and  says  :— 

'  Yes,  thou  shalt  live,  bnt  never  see  that  day, 
Wanting  the  tapers  that  should  give  thee  light. 

[Pulls  out  his  eyes* 
Immediately  after  his  hands  are  cut  off  on  the  stage.  In  Mar- 
ston's  Antonio's  Revenge,  1602,  Piero's  tongne  is  torn  out  on 
the  stage. 

13  Villain  is  perhaps  here  used  in  its  original  sense,  of  one  in 

T  T  1 

486  KING  LEAR.  ACT  HI. 

Glo.  All  dark  and  comfortless. — Where's  my  son 
Edmund,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature, 
To  quit14  this  horrid  act. 

Reg.  Out,  treacherous  villain! 

Thou  call'st  on  him  that  hates  thee  :  it  was  he 
That  made  the  overture 15  of  thy  treasons  to  us ; 
Who  is  too  good  to  pity  thee. 

Glo.  O  my  follies! 

Then  Edgar  was  abus'd. — 
Kind  gods,  forgive  me  that,  and  prosper  him ! 
Reg.  Go,  thrust  him  out  at  gates,  and  let  him 
His  way  to  Dover. — How  is't,  my  lord  ?  How  look 
Corn.  I  have  received  a  hurt : — Follow  me,  lady.— 
Turn  out  that  eyeless  villain ; — throw  this  slave 
Upon  the  dunghill. — Regan,  I  bleed  apace : 
Untimely  comes  this  hurt :  Give  me  your  arm. 
[JEW*  Cornwall,  led  by  Regan  ; — Servants 
unbind  Gloster,  and  lead  him  out. 

1  Serv.  I'll  never  care  what  wickedness  I  do l6, 
If  this  man  comes  to  good. 

2  Serv.  If  she  live  long, 
And,  in  the  end,  meet  the  old  course  of  death17, 
Women  will  all  turn  monsters. 

1  Serv.  Let's  follow,  the  old  earl,  and  get  the 

14  Requite. 

15  Overture  here  means  an  opening,  a  discovery.  *  It  was  he 
who  first  laid  thy  treasons  open  to  as/ 

10  This  short  dialogue  is  only  found  in  the  quartos.  It  is,  as 
Theobald  observes,  full  of  nature.  Servants  could  hardly  see 
such  barbarity  committed  without  pity ;  and  the  vengeance  that 
they  presume  must  overtake  the  actors  of  it,  is  a  sentiment  and 
doctrine  well  worthy  of  the  stage  and  of  the  great  moral  poet 

17  i.  e.  die  a  natural  deatk. 

SC.  VII.  KING  LEAR.  487 

To  lead  him  where  he  would ;  his  roguish  madness 
Allows  itself  to  any  thing. 

2  Serv.  Go  thou ;  I'll  fetch  some  flax,  and  whites 

of  eggs18, 
To  apply  to  his  bleeding  face.     Now,  heaven  help 

him!  [Exeunt  severally. 

ACT  IV.  \ 
SCENE  I.     The  Heath. 

Enter  Edgar. 

Edg.  Yet  better  thus,  and  known  to  be  contemn'd, 
Than  still  contemn'd  and  flatter'd1.    To  be  worst, 
The  lowest,  and  most  dejected  thing  of  fortune, 
Stands  still  in  esperance,  lives  not  in  fear: 
The  lamentable  change  is  from  the  best; 
The  worst  returns  to  laughter.    Welcome  then2, 

18  Steevens  asserted  that  this  passage  was  ridiculed  by  Ben 
Jonson  in  The  Case  is  Altered.  Mr.  Gifford  has  shown  the  folly 
and  falsehood  of  the  assertion ;  and  that  it  was  only  a  common 
allusion  to  a  method  of  stanching  blood  practised  in  the  poet's 
time  by  every  barber-surgeon  and  old  woman  in  the  kingdom. 

1  '  It  is  better  to  be  thus  and  openly  contemned,,  than  to  be 
flattered  and  secretly  contemned.'  The  expression  in  this  speech, 
'  owes  nothing  to  thy  blasts/  might  seem  to  be  copied  from  Vir- 
gil, Mb.  xi.  51 : — 

'  Nos  juvenem  exanimnm,  et  nil  jam  ccelestibus  ullis 
Vebentem,  vano  mossti  comitamnr  honore.' 
The  meaning  of  Edgar's  speech  seems  to  be  this: — '  Yet  it  is 
better  to  be  thus  in  this  fixed  and  acknowledged  contemptible 
state,  than  living  in  affluence,  to  be  flattered  and  despised  at  the 
same  time.  He  who  is  placed  in  the  worst  and  lowest  state,  has 
this  advantage,  he  lives  in  hope,  and  not  in  fear,  of  a  reverse  of 
fortune.    The  lamentable  change  is  from  affluence  to  beggary. 
He  laughs  at  the  idea  of  changing  for  the  worse,  who  is  already 
as  low  as  possible.' — Sir  J.  Reynolds. 
3  The  next  two  lines  and  a  half  are  not  m  the  ^cvaxtav. 

488  KING  LBAR.  ACT  IV. 

Thou  unsubstantial  air,  that  I  embrace ! 

The  wretch,  that  thou  hast  blown  unto  the  worst, 

Owes  nothing  to  thy  blasts. — But  who  comes  here?— 

Enter  Gloster,  led  by  an  old  Man. 

My  father,  poorly  led  ? — World,  world,  O  world ! 
But  that  thy  strange  mutations  make  us  hate  thee, 
Life  would  not  yield  to  age3. 

Old  Man.  O  my  good  lord,  I  have  been  your 
tenant,  and  your  father's  tenant,  these  fourscore 

Glo.  Away,  get  thee  away ;  good  friend,  begone: 
Thy  comforts  can  do  me  no  good  at  all, 
Thee  they  may  hurt. 

Old  Man.  Alack,  sir,  you  cannot  see  your  way. 

Glo.  I  have  no  way,  and  therefore  want  no  eyes; 
I  stumbled  when  I  saw :  Full  oft  'tis  seen, 
Our  mean  secures  us4,  and  our  mere  defects 
Prove  our  commodities. — Ah,  dear  son,  Edgar, 
The  food  of  thy  abused  father's  wrath  ! 
Might  I  but  live  to  see  thee  in  my  touch5, 
I'd  say,  I  had  eyes  again ! 

Old  Man.  How  now  ?  Who's  there  ? 

Edg.  [Aside,]  O  gods !  Who  is't  can  say,  /  am 
at  the  worst? 
I  am  worse  than  e'er  I  was. 

3  '  O  world !-  if  reverses  of  fortune  and  changes  such  as  I  now 
see  and  feel,  from  ease  and  affluence  to  poverty  and  misery,  did 
not  show  us  the  little  value  of  life,  we  should  never  submit  with 
any  kind  of  resignation  to  death,  the  necessary  consequences  of 
old  age ;  we  should  cling  to  life  more  strongly  than  we  do/ 

4  Mean  is  here  put  for  our  moderate  or  mean  conditions.  It  was 
sometimes  the  practice  of  the  poet's  age  to  use  a  plural,  when  the 
subject  spoken  of  related  to  more  persons  than  one.  To  avoid 
the  equivoque  Pope  changed  the  reading  of  the  old  copy  to  '  our 
mean  secures  us/  which  is  certainly  more  intelligible,  and  may 
have  been  the  reading  intended,  as  meane  being  spelled  with  a 
final  e  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  means,  which  is  the  reading 
of  the  oYdco^j. 

*  So  \n  anoXhex  accwe,  *  \  see  \\  jetYviwj^ 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  489 

Old  Man.  Tis  poor  mad  Tom. 

Edg.  [Aside,]  And  worse  I  may  be  yet;  The 
worst  is  not, 
So  long  as  we  can  say,  This  is  the  worst6. 

Old  Man.  Fellow,  where  goest  ? 

Glo.  '  Is  it  a  beggar  man  ? 

Old  Man.  Madman  and  beggar  too. 

Glo.  He  has  some  reason,  else  he  could  not  beg. 
I'the  last  night's  storm  I  such  a  fellow  saw; 
'Which  made  me  think  a  man  a  worm : .  My  son 
Came  then  into  my  mind;  and  yet  my  mind 
Was  then  scarce  friends  with  him :  I  have  heard 

more  since : 
As  flies  to  wanton  boys,  are  we  to  the  gods ; 
They  kill  us  for  their  sport7. 

Edg.  How  should  this  be? — 

Bad  is  the  trade  must  play  the  fool  to  sorrow, 
Ang 'ring  itself  and  others.    [Aside.] — Bless  thee, 
master ! 

Glo.  Is  that  the  naked  fellow? 

Old  Man.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Glo.  Then,  'pr'ythee,  get  thee  gone :  If,for  my  sake, 
Thou  wilt  o'ertake  us,  hence  a  mile  or  twain, 
I'the  way  to  Dover,  do  it  for  ancient  love ; 
And  bring  some  covering  for  this  naked  soul, 
Whom  I'll  entreat  to  lead  me. 

Old  Man.  Alack,  sir,  he's  mad. 

Glo.  Tis  the  time's  plague,  when  madmen  lead 
the  blind. 

6  i.  e.  white  we  live;  for  while  we  yet  continue  to  have  a 
sense  of  feeling,  something  worse  than  the  present  may  still  hap- 
pen.    He  recalls  his  former  rash  conclusion. 

7  '  Dii  nos  quasi  pilas  homines  habenC 

Plaut.  Captiv.  ProL  i.  22. 
Thus  also  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  lib.  ii. : — 

' wretched  human  kinde 

BaUes  to  the  starres,'  &c. 

490  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Do  as  I  bid  thee,  or  rather  do  thy  pleasure; 
Above  the  rest,  be  gone. 

Old  Man.  I'll  bring  him  the  best  'parel  that  I  have, 
Come  on't  what  will.  [Exit. 

Glo.  Sirrah,  naked  fellow.    , 

Edg.  Poor  Tom's  a-cold. — I  cannot  daub8  it 
further.  [Aside. 

Glo.  Come  hither,  fellow. 

Edg.  [Aside.]  And  yet  I  must.— Bless  thy  sweet 
eyes,  they  bleed. 

Glo.  Know'st  thou  the  way  to  Dover? 

Edg.  Both  stile  and  gate,  horse-way,  and  foot- 
path. Poor  Tom  hath  been  scared  out  of  his  good 
wits:  Bless  the  good  man  from  the  foul  fiend! 
[Five  fiends9  have  been  in  poor  Tom  at  once ;  of 
lust,  as  Obidicut;  Hobbididance,  prince  of  dumb- 
ness ;  Mahu,  of  stealing ;  Modo,  of  murder ;  and 
Fibbertigibbet,  of  mopping  and  mowing ;  who  since 
possesses  chambermaids  and  waitingwomen10.  So, 
bless  thee,  master !] 

8  i.  e.  disguise  it. 

'  So  smooth  he  daub'd  his  rice  with  show  of  virtae.' 

King  Richard  III. 

9  '  The  devil  in  Ma  Mainy  confessed  his  name  to  be  Mod*, 
and  that  he  had  besides  himself  seven  other  spirits,  and  all  of 
them  captaines  and  of  great  fame.  '  Then  Edmundes  (the 
exorcist)  began  againe  with  great  earnestness,  and  all  the  com- 
pany cried  out,  &c- so  as  both  that  wicked  prince  Modu  and 

his  company  might  be  cast  out/ — Harsnet,  p.  163.    This  passage 
will  account  for  '  five  fiends  having  been  in  poor  Tom  at  once/ 

10  *  If  she  have  a  little  helpe  of  the  mother,  epilepsie,  or 
cramp,  to  teach  her  role  her  eyes,  wrie  her  mouth,  gnash  her 
teeth,  starte  with  her  body,  hold  her  armes  and  handes  stiffe, 
make  an  tike  faces,  grinne,  mow  and  mop  like  an  ape,  then  no 
doubt  the  young  girle  is  owle-blasted,  and  possessed.* — Harsnet, 
p.  136.  The  five  devils  here  mentioned  are  the  names  of  five  of 
those  who  were  made  to  act  in  this  farce  three  chambermaids,  or 
waiting  women,  in  Mr.  Edmund  Peckham's  family.  The  reader 
will  now  perceive  why  a  coquette  is  called  flibergibbit  or  titifill 
by  Cotgr&ve.  See  Act  Hi.  Sc.  4,  note  23.  The  passage  in 
crotchets  is  om\tt&&  va  V\i«>  t<&\<*. 

SC.  I.  KING  LEAR.  491 

Glo.  Here,  take  this  purse,  thou  whom  the  hea- 
ven's plagues 
Have  humbled  to  all  strokes :  that  I  am  wretched, 
Makes  thee  the  happier : — Heavens,  deal  so  still ! 
Let  the  superfluous,  and  lust-dieted  man, 
That  slaves  your  ordinance11,  that  will  not  see 
Because  he  doth  not  feel,  feel  your  power  quickly ; 
So  distribution  should  undo  excess, 
And  each  man  have  enough.— Dostthou  know  Dover? 

Edg.  Ay,  master. 

Glo.  There  is  a  cliff,  whose  high  and  bending  head 
Looks  fearfully  in12  the  confined  deep: 
Bring  me  but  to  the  very  brim  of  it, 
And  111  repair  the  misery  thou  dost  bear, 
With  something  rich  about  me :  from  that  place 
I  shall  no  leading  need. 

Edg.  Give  me  thy  arm ; 

Poor  Tom  shall  lead  thee.  [Exeunt. 

Before  the  Duke  of  Albany's  Palace. 

Enter  Goneril  and  Edmund  ;  Steward  meeting 


Gon.  Welcome,  my  lord:  I  marvel,  our  mild 
husband i 
Not  met  us  on  the  way : — Now,  where's  your  master? 

11  '  Lear  has  before  uttered  the  same  sentiment,  which  indeed 
cannot  be  too  strongly  impressed,  though  it  may  be  too  often  re- 
peated/— Johnson.  To  slave  an  ordinance  is  to  treat  it  as  a 
slave,  to  make  it  subject  to  us,  instead  of  acting  in  obedience  to 
it.     So  in  Heywood's  Brazen  Age,  1613  : — 

'  ■  none 

Could  slave  him  like  the  Lydian  Omphale/ 
Again,  in  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts,  by  Massinger  :■ — •  that 
slaves  me  to  his  will.'  The  quartos  read  '  That  stands  your  ordi- 
nance/ which  may  be  right,  says  Malone,  and  means  withstands 
or  abides. 

12  In  is  here  put  for  on,  as  in  other  places  of  these  ^la.^*. 

1  It  must  be  remembered  that  Mb&n^,  taetajfcwa&.*ll*aa«fe- 

402  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Stew.  Madam,  within;  but  never  man  so  chang'd: 
I  told  him  of  the  army  that  was  landed ; 
He  smil'd  at  it:  I  told  him,  you  were  coming; 
His  answer  was,  The  worse:  of  Gloster's  treachery, 
And  of  the  loyal  service  of  his  son, 
When  I  inform'd  him,  then  he  call'd  me  sot; 
And  told  me,  I  had  tura'd  the  wrong  side  out : — 
What  most  he  should  dislike,  seems  pleasant  to  him; 
What  like,  offensive. 

Gon.  Then  shall  you  go  no  further. 

[To  Edmund. 
It  is  the  cowish  terror  of  his  spirit, 
That  dares  not  undertake :  he'll  not  feel  wrongs, 
Which  tie  him  to  an  answer :  Our  wishes,  on  the  way, 
May  prove  effects2.   Back,  Edmund,  to  my  brother ; 
Hasten  his  musters,  and  conduct  his  powers : 
I  must  change  arms  at  home,  and  give  the  distaff 
Into  my  husband's  hands.     This  trusty  servant 
Shall  pass  between  us :  ere  long  you  are  like  to  hear, 
If  you  dare  venture  in  your  own  behalf, 
A  mistress's  command.    Wear  this;  spare  speech; 

[Giving  a  Favour. 
Decline  your  head :  this  kiss,  if  it  durst  speak, 
Would  stretch  thy  spirits  up  into  the  air3; — 
Conceive,  and  fare  thee  well. 

Edm.  Yours  in  the  ranks  of  death. 
Gon.  My  most  dear  Gloster ! 

[Exit  Edmund. 
O,  the  difference  of  man,  and  man ! 

ril,  disliked  the  scheme  of  oppression  and  ingratitude  at  the  end 
of  the  first  aot. 

3  '  The  wishes  which  we  expressed  to  each  other  on  the  way 
hither,  may  be  completed,  may  take  effect/  perhaps  alluding  to 
the  destruction  of  her  husband. 

3  She  bids  him  decline  his  head,  that  she  might  give  him  a 
kiss  (the  steward  being  present)  and  that  might  appear  only  to 
him  as  a  whisper. 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  493 

To  thee  a  woman's  services  are  due ; 
My  fool  usurps  my  bed4. 

Stew.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord. 

[Exit  Steward. 

Entqr  Albany. 

Gon.  I  have  been  worth  the  whistle5. 

Alb.  O  Goneril ! 

You  art  not  worth  the  dust  which  the  rude  wind 
Blows  in  your  face — I  fear  your  disposition6: 
That  nature,  which  contemns  its  origin, 
Cannot  be  border'd  certain  in  itself; 
She  that  herself  will  sliver7  and  disbranch 
From  her  material  sap8,  perforce  must  wither, 
And  come  to  deadly  use9. 

4  Quarto  A  reads  '  my  foot  usurp  my  body.'  Quarto  B,  '  my 
foot  usurps  my  head,1  Quarto  C,  '  a/ooZ  usurps  my  bed,*  The 
folio  reads,  *  my  fool  usurps  my  body.1 

*  Alluding  to  the  proverb, '  It  is  a  poor  dog  that  is  not  worth 
the  whistling.'  Goneril's  meaning  seems  to  be,  '  There  was  a 
time  when  yon  would  have  thought  me  worth  the  calling  to  you/ 
reproaching  him  for  not  having  summoned  her  to  consult  with 
on  the  present  occasion. 

6  These  words,  and  the  lines  following,  to  monsters  of  the 
deep,  are  not  in  the  folio.  They  are  necessary  to  explain  the 
reasons  of  the  detestation  which  Albany  here  expresses  to  his 

7  So  in  Macbeth : — 

' slips  of  yew 

SKeer'd  in  the  moon's  eclipse/ 
See  vol.  iv.  p.  283,  note  8. 

8  '  She  who  breaks  the  bonds  of  filial  duty,  and  becomes  wholly 
alienated  from  her  father,  must  wither  and  perish,  like  a  branch 
separated  from  that  trunk  or  body  which  supplied  it  with  sap.' 
There  is  a  peculiar  propriety  in  the  use  of  the  word  material: 
materia,  Lat.  signifying  the  trunk  or  body  of  the  tree. 

9  Alluding  to  the  use  that  witches  and  enchanters  are  said  to 
make  of  withered  branches  in  their  charms.  A  fine  insinuation  in 
the  speaker,  that  she  was  ready  for  the  most  unnatural  mischief, 
and  a  preparative  of  the  poet  to  her  plotting  with  the  bastard 
against  her  husband's  life. —  Warburton.  Dr.  Warburton  might 
have  adduced  the  passage  from  Macbeth  above  quoted  in  support 
of  his  ingenious  interpretation. 

VOL.  JX.  VI  \3 

494  KINO  LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Gon.  No  more ;  the  text  is  foolish. 

Alb.  Wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  yile  seem  vile: 
Filths  savour  but  themselves.  What  have  you  done  ? 
Tigers,  not  daughters,  what  have  you  perform'd? 
A  father,  and  a  gracious  aged  man, 
Whose  reverence  the  head-lugg'd  bear  would  lick10, 
Most  barbarous,  most  degenerate !  have  you  madded. 
Could  my  good  brother  suffer  you  to  do  it  ? 
A  man,  a  prince,  by  him  so  benefited? 
If  that  the  heavens  do  not  their  visible  spirits 
Send  quickly  down  to  tame  these  vile  offences, 
Twill  come, 

Humanity  must  perforce  prey  on  itself, 
Like  monsters  of  the  deep. 

Gon.  Milk-iiver'd  man! 

That  bear'st  a  cheek  for  blows,  a  head  for  wrongs ; 
Who  hast  not  in  thy  brows  an  eye  discerning 
Thine  honour  from  thy  suffering ;  that  not  know'st n, 
Fools  do  those  villains  pity,  who  are  punish'd 
Ere  they  have  done  their  mischief12.     Where's  thy 

France  spreads  his  banners  in  our  noiseless  land ; 
With  plumed  helm  thy  slayer  begins  threats; 
Whilst  thou,  a  moral  fool,  sit'st  still,  and  cry'st, 
Alack!  why  does  he  so?  , 

Alb.  See  thyself,  devil ! 

Proper  deformity  seems  not  in  the  fiend 
So  horrid,  as  in  woman13. 

10  This  line  is  not  in  the  folio. 

11  The  rest  of  this  speech  is  also  omitted  in  the  folio. 

13  '  Goneril  means  to  say  that  none  bnt  fools  would  be  ex- 
cited to  commiserate  those  who  are  prevented  from  executing 
their  malicious  designs,  and  punished  for  their  evil  intention.' 
Malone  doubts  whether  Goneril  alludes  to  her  father,  but  surely 
there  cannot  be  a  doubt  that  she  does,  and  to  the  pity  for*  his 
sufferings  expressed  by  Albany,  whom  she  means  indirectly  to 
call  Afoot  for  expressing  it. 

13  That  ift,  *  TOahaWa  <\\i»IUie«  appear  not  so  horrid  in  the 

SC.  II.  KING  LEAR.  495 

Gon.  O  vain  fool ! 

Alb.  Thou  changed  and  self-cover'd14  thing,  for 
Be-monster  not  thy  feature15.    Were  it  my  fitness 
To  let  these  hands  obey  my  blood16, 
They  are  apt  enough  to  dislocate  and  tear 
Thy  flesh  and  bones ; — Howe'er  thou  art  a  fiend, 
A  woman's  shape  doth  shield  thee. 

Gon.  Marry,  your  manhood  now ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Alb.  What  news? 

Mess.  O,  my  good  lord,  the  Duke  of  Cornwall's 
Slain  by  his  servant,  going  to  put  out 
The  other  eye  of  Gloster. 

Alb.  Gloster's  eyes ! 

Mess.  A  servant  that  he  bred,  thrill'd  with  remorse, 
Oppos'd  against  the  act,  bending  his  sword 
To  his  great  master ;  who,  thereat  enrag'd, 
Flew  on  him,  and  amongst  them  fell'd  him  dead: 
But  not  without  that  harmful  stroke,  which  since 
Hath  pluck'd  him  after. 

Alb.  This  shows  you  are  above, 

You  justicers,  that  these  our  nether  crimes 
So  speedily  can  venge ! — But,  O  poor  Gloster ! 
Lost  he  his  other  eye? 

devil,  to  whom  they  belong,  as  in  woman,  who  unnaturally 
assumes  them.' 

14  The  meaning  appears  to  be  '  thou  that  hast  hid  the  woman 
under  the  fiend ;  thou  that  hast  disguised  nature  by  wickedness.' 
Steevens  thinks  that  there  may  be  an  allusion  to  the  coverings 
which  insects  furnish  to  themselves,  like  the  silkworm,  that— 

' labours  till  it  clouds  itself  all  o'er.' 

15  It  has  been  already  observed  that  feature  was  often  used 
for  form  or  person  in  general,  the  figure  of  the  whole  body.  See 
vol.  i.  p.  124,  note  4. 

16  My  blood  is  my  passion,  my  inclination.  This  verse  wants 
a  foot,  which  Theobald  purposed  to  supply  by  reading  '  fotfaa^ 

496  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Mess.  Both,  both,  my  lord. — 

This  letter,  madam,  craves  a  speedy  answer ; 
Tis  from  your  sister. 

Gon.  [Aside.]  One  way  I  like  this  well 17 ; 
But  being  widow,  and  my  Gloster  with  her, 
May  all  the  building  in  my  fancy  pluck 
Upon  my  hateful  life  :  Another  way, 
The  news  is  not  so  tart. — I'll  read  and  answer.  [Exit. 

Alb.  Where  was  his  son,  when  they  did  take  his 
eyes  ? 

Mess.  Come  with  my  lady  hither. 

Alb.  He  is  not  here. 

Mess.  No,  my  good  lord;  I  met  him  back  again. 

Alb.  Knows  he  the  wickedness? 

Mess.  Ay,  my  good  lord;  'twas  he  inform'd  against 
And  quit  the  house  on  purpose,  that  their  punishment 
Might  have  the  freer  course. 

Alb.  Gloster,  I  live 

To  thank  thee  for  the  love  thou  show'dst  the  king, 
And  to  revenge  thine  eyes. — Come  hither,  friend; 
Tell  me  what  more  thou  knowest.  [Exetmt. 

[SCENE  III  K     The  French  Camp  near  Dover. 

Enter  Kent,  and  a  Gentleman2. 

Kent.  Why  the  King  of  France  is  so  suddenly 
gone  back  know  you  the  reason  3  ? 

17  GoneriPs  plan  was  to  poison  her  sister,  to  marry  Edmund, 
to  murder  Albany,  and  to  get  possession  of  the  whole  kingdom. 
As  the  death  of  Cornwall  facilitated  the  last  part  of  her  scheme, 
she  was  pleased  at  it;  bat  disliked  it,  as  it  put  it  in  the  power 
of  her  sister  to  marry  Edmund. 

1  This  scene  is  left  out  in  the  folio  copy,  but  is  necessary  to 
continue  the  story  of  Cordelia,  whose  behaviour  is  most  beauti- 
fully painted. 

3  The  gentleman  whom  he  sent  in  the  foregoing  act  with  letters 
to  Cordelia. 

3  The  Vvojj  of  "StwRte  W\u^  tvq\«w^«t  *  w^*^"^  ^*t«Quage, 

SC.  III.  KINO  LEAR.  497 

Gent.  Something  he  left  imperfect  in  the  state, 
Which  since  his.  coming  forth  is  thought  of ;  which 
Imports  to  the  kingdom  so  much  fear  and  danger, 
That  his  personal  return  was  most  required, 
And  necessary. 

Kent.  Who  hath  he  left  behind  him  general? 

Gent.  The  Mareschal  of  France,  Monsieur  le  Fer. 

Kent.  Did  your  letters  pierce  the  queen  to  any 
demonstration  of  grief? 

Gent.  Ay,  sir ;  she  took  them,  read  them  in  my 
presence ; 
And  now  and  then  an  ample  tear  trill'd  down 
Her  delicate  cheek :  it  seem'd,  she  was  a  queen 
Over  her  passion ;  who,  most  rebel-like, 
Sought  to  be  king  o'er  her. 

Kent.  O,  then  it  mov'd  her. 

Gent.  Not  to  a  rage:  patience  and  sorrow  strove 
Who  should  express  her  goodliest.   You  have  seen 
Sunshine  and  rain  at  once ;  her  smiles  and  tears 
Were  like ; — a  better  way  4.  Those  happy  smiles  5, 

it  was  fit  that  some  pretext  for  getting  rid  of  him  should  be 
formed  before  the  play  was  too  near  advanced  towards  a  conclu- 
sion. Decency  required  that  a  monarch  should  not  be  silently 
shuffled  into  the  pack  of  insignificant  characters ;  and  therefore 
his  dismission  (which  could  be  effected  only  by  a  sadden  recall 
to  his  own  dominions)  was  to  be  accounted  for  before  the  audi- 
ence. For  this  purpose,  among  others,  the  present  scene  was 
introduced.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  use  could  have  been 
made  of  the  king,  had  he  appeared  at  the  head  of  his  own  arma- 
ment, and  survived  the  murder  of  his  queen.  His  conjugal  con- 
cern on  the  occasion  might  have  weakened  the  effect  of  Lear's 
paternal  sorrow ;  and  being  an  object  of  respect  as  well  as  pity, 
he  would  naturally  have  divided  the  spectator's  attention,  and 
thereby  diminished  the  consequence  of  Albany,  Edgar,  and  Kent, 
whose  exemplary  virtues  deserved  to  be  ultimately  placed  in  the 
most  conspicuous  point  of  view. — Steevens. 

4  Both  the  quartos  read,  '  were  like  a  better  way/    Steevens 

5  The  quartos  read  smilets,  which  may  be  a  diminutive  of  the 
poet's  coining. 

\3  \3  *3L 

498  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IY. 

That  play'd  on  her  ripe  lip,  seem'd  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  eyes ;  which  parted  thence, 
A  s  pearls  from  diamonds  dropp'd6. — In  brief,  sorrow 
Would  be  a  rarity  mpst  belov'd,  if  all 
Could  so  become  it. 

reads,  upon  the  suggestion  of  Theobald,  *  a  better  day,'  with  a 
long  and  somewhat  ingenious,  though  unsatisfactory  argument  in 
defence  of  it.  War  bur  ton  reads,  '  a  wetter  May,'  which  is 
plausible  enough.  Malone  adopts  part  of  his  emendation,  and 
reads  '  a  better  May.'  I  have  been  favoured  by  Mr.  Boaden 
with  the  following  solution  of  this  passage,  which,  as  it  preserves 
the  reading  of  the  old  copy,  merits  attention  : — *  The  difficulty 
has  arisen  from  a  general  mistake  as  to  the  simile  itself;  and 
Shakspeare's  own  words  here  actually  convey  his  perfect  mean- 
ing, as  indeed  they  commonly  do.  I  understand  the  passage 
thus  :— 

" You  have  seen 

Sunshine  and  rain  at  once ;  her  smiles  and  tears 

Were  like ;  a  better  way." 

*  That  is,  Cordelia's  smiles  and  tears  were  like  the  conjunction  of 
sunshine  and  rain,  in  a  better  way  or  manner.  Now  in  what  did 
this  better  way  consist  ?  Why  simply  in  the  smiles  seeming  un- 
conscious of  the  tears ;  whereas  the  sunshine  has  a  water)}  look 
through  the  falling  drops  of  rain — 

" Those  happy  smiles, 

That  plav'd  on  her  ripe  lip,  seem'd  not  to  know 

What  guests  were  in  her  eyes." 

'  That  the  point  of  comparison  was  neither  a  "  better  day,"  nor 
a  "  wetter  May,"  is  proved  by  the  following  passages,  cited  by 
Steevens  and  Malone : — "  Her  tears  came  dropping  down  like 
rain  in  sunshine." — Sidney's  Arcadia,  p.  244.  Again,  p.  163, 
edit.  1593: — "  And  with  that  she  prettily  smiled,  which  mingled 
with  her  tears,  one  could  not  tell  whether  it  were  a  mourning 
pleasure,  or  a  delightful  sorrow ;  but  like  when  a  few  April 
drops  are  scattered  by  a  gentle  zephyrus  among  fine-coloured 
flowers."  Again,  in  A  Courtlie  Controversie  of  Cupid's  Cautels, 
&c.  translated  from  the  French  by  H.  W.  [Henry  Wotton],  1578, 
p.  289 : — '*  Who  hath  viewed  in  the  spring  time  raine  and  swme- 
shine  in  one  moment,  might  beholde  the  troubled  countenance  of 
the  gentlewoman — with  an  eye  now  smyling,  then  bathed  in 

'  I  may  just  observe,  as  perhaps  an  illustration,  that  the  better 
way  of  Charity  is  that  the  right  hand  should  not  know  what  the 
left  band  giveth.' 

6  Steevenft  wo\iV&  xeaA.  droppvuc^Wt  «s  must  be  understood  to 
lignif y  as  if.    \  do  wt  VJb\\flL  ta«x.\«wita&.  ^«*Aau&*  ^^^  >».  th« 

SC.  III.  KINO  LEAR.  499 

Kent.  Made  she  no  verbal  question  7  ? 

Gent.  'Faith,  once,  or  twice,  she  heav'd  the  name 
of  father 
Pantingly  forth,  as  if  it  press'd  her  heart ; 
Cried,  Sisters!  sisters! — Shame  of  ladies  !  sisters! 
Kent!  father!  sisters!   What?  i'  the  storm?  i' the 

Let  pity  not  be  believed6! — There  she  shook 
The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes, 
And  clamour  moisten'd9 :  then  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. 

Kent.  It  is  the  stars, 

The  stars  above  us,  govern  our  conditions10; 
Else  one  self  mate  and  mate  n  could  not  beget 
Such  different  issues.  You  spoke  not  with  her  since  ? 

Gent.  No. 

Kent.  Was  this  before  the  king  return'd  ? 

Gent.  No,  since. 

Kent.  Well,  sir ;  The  poor  distress'd  Lear  is  i'the 
town : 
Who  sometime,  in  his  better  tune,  remembers 
What  we  are  come  about,  and  by  no  means 
Will  yield  to  see  his  daughter. 

Gent.  Why,  good  sir  ? 

poet's  mind.     A  similar  beautiful  thought  in  Middle  ton's  Game 

of  Chess  has  caught  the  eye  of  Milton: — 

'  — —  the  holy  dew  lies  like  a  pearl 
Dropt  from  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  morn 
Upon  the  bashful  rose/ 

7  i.  e.  discourse,  conversation. 

8  i.  e.  let  not  pity  be  supposed  to  exist.  It  is  not  impossible 
bat  Shakspeare  might  have  formed  this  fine  picture  of  Cordelia's 
agony  from  holy  writ,  in  the  conduct  of  Joseph,  who,  being  no 
longer  able  to  restrain  the  vehemence  of  his  affection,  com- 
manded all  his  retinae  from  his  presence  ;  and  then  wept  aloud, 
and  discovered  himself  to  his  brethren. — Theobald. 

9  That  is, '  her  outcries  were  accompanied  with  tears. 

10  Conditions  are  dispositions. 

11  i.  e.  the  selfsame  husband  and  wife. 

600  KING  LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Kent.  A  sovereign  shame  so  elbows  him :  his  own 
That  stripp'd  her  from  his  benediction,  turn'd  her 
To  foreign  casualties,  gave  her  dear  rights 
To  his  dog-hearted  daughters, — these  things  sting 
His  mind  so  venomously,  that  burning  shame 
Detains  him  from  Cordelia. 

Gent.  Alack,  poor  gentleman! 

Kent.  Of  Albany's  and  Cornwall's  powers  you 
heard  not! 

Gent.  Tis  so,  they  are  afoot 

Kent.  Well,  sir,  I'll  bring  you  to  our  master  Lear, 
And  leave  you  to  attend  him:  some  dear  cause12 
Will  in  concealment  wrap  me  up  awhile ; 
When  I  am  known  aright,  you  shall  not  grieve 
Lending  me  this  acquaintance.     I  pray  you,  go 
Along  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.     The  same.    A  Tent. 

Enter  Cordelia,  Physician,  and  Soldiers. 

Cor.  Alack,  'tis  he ;  why,  he  was  met  even  now 
As  mad  as  the