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printep by c and c whittinoham. 







c r:? 




Q. Elii. Hid'st thon (hat forehead vith ■ goMen < 
Where should be branded, if that right were right. 
The elsnghler of the prince that ow'd that crawn. 



Ittng m^axti m ^itJf. 


1 HIS Tragedy, though called in the original edition ' The life 
and Death of King Richard the Third/ comprises only fonrteen 
years.. The second scene commences if?ith the funeral of King 
Henry YI. who is said to have heen murdered on the 21 st of 
May, 1471.. The imprisonment of Clarence, which is repre- 
sented previously in the first scene, did not in fact take place 
till 1477-8. 

Several dramas on the present story had been written be- 
fore Shakspeare attempted it. There was a Latin play on the 
subject, by Dr. Legge, which had been acted at St. John's Col- 
lege, Oxford, some time before the year 1588. ' And a childish 
imitation of it, by one Henry Lacey, exists in MS. in the British 
Museum (MSS. Harl. No. 6926) ; it is dated 1586. In the 
books of the Stationers' CompaJly are the following entries : — 
< Aug. 15, 1586, A Tragical Report of King Richard the Third : 
a. ballad.' June 19,.1594, Thomas Creede made the following 
entry : ' An enterlude, intitled the Tragedie of Richard the Third, 
wherein is shown the.Deathe of Edward the Fourthe, with the 
Smotheringe of the Two Princes in the Tower, with the lament- 
able Ende of Shore's Wife, and the Contention of the Two Houses 
of Lancaster and Yorke.' ' A single copy of this ancient Inter- 



lade, which Mr. Boswell thinks was written by the aathor of 
Locrine, nnfortanately wanting the title^age, and a few lines at 
the beginning, was in the collection of Mr. Rhodes of Lyon*s Inn, 
who liberally allowed Mr. Boswell to print it in the last Vario- 
ram edition of Shakspeare*. It appears evidently to have been 
read and used by Shakspeare, In this, as in other instances, 
the bookseller was -probably indaced to pttblish the old play in 
consequence of the success of the new one in performance, and 
before it had yet got into print. 

Shakspeare's play was firsf entered at Stationers* Hall, Oct. 
20, 1697, by Andrew Wise ; and was then pnblished with the 
following title :— ' The Tragedy of King Richard the Third : 
Containing his treacherous Pk)ts against his Brother Clarence ; 
the pitiful Murther of his innocdnt Nephewes ; his tyrannical 
Usurpation: with the whole course of his detested Life, and 
most deserred Death. As it hath been lately acted by the Right 
Honourable the Lord Chamberlaine his serrants. Printed by 
Valentine Sims, for William Wise, 1507. It was again reprinted, 
in 4to., in 1696, 1602, 1612 or 1613, 1622, and twice in 1629. 

This play was probably written in (he year 1692 or 1694. One 
of Sbakspeare's Richards, and most probably this, is alluded to 

, * A complete copy of Creed's edition of this owriona Intdr- 
lade (whidi upon comparison proved to be a diffierent impression 
from that in Mr. Rhodes*s collection), was sold by auction by 
Mr. Evans very lately. The title was as follows : — * The true 
Tragedie of Richard the Third, wherein is showne the death of 
Edward the Fourth, with the smothering of the two yoong 
Princes in the Tower : With a lamentable end of Shore's wife, 
an example for all wicked women; and lastly, the conjunction 
of the two noble Houses Lancaster and Yorke, as it was playd 
by the Queenes Maiesties players. London, printed by Thomas 
Creede ; and are to be sold by William Barley at his shop in 
Newgate Market, neare Christ Church door, 1694 ; 4to.' It is 
a oiroumstanoe sufficiently remarkable that but a single copy of 
each of the two editions of this |neoe should be known to exist. 


in the Bpi^ranu of John Weerer *, psblished in 1S9II ; but which- 
Host have been written ia 1695. 


Honie-tDDg^'d Shakespeare, when I saw thine issue, 
I swore Apollo got them, and none other ; 
Their rosie-tainted features clothed in tissue, 
Some heayen-bom goddesse said to be their mother. 
Rose cheeckt Adonis with his amber tresses, 
Faire fire-^iot Venas charming him to love her, 
Chaste Lacretia, -rirgine^like her dresses. 
Frond Inst-stnng Tarqoine seeking still to prove her, 
Bomeo, Richard, more whose names I know not. 
Their sngred tongues and power attractive beantj, 
Saj they are saints, althogh that saints thej shew not. 
For thousand vowes to them subjective dutie. 
They burn in love thy children Shakspeare let them» 
Go wo thy muse more nymf^ish brood beget them. 

27th ^ng. 4ti Weeke. 

The character of Richard had been in part developed in the 
last parts of King Henry VI. where, Schlegel observes, 'his first 

* This very curious little volume, which is supposed to be 
unique, is in the possession of Mr. Comb, of Henley. The title 
is as follows : — ' Epigrammes in the oldest Cut and newest 
Fashion. A twise seven Houres (in so many Weekes) Studie. 
Ko longer (like the Fashion) not unlike to continue. The first 
seven, John Weever. Sit voluisse sit valuisse. At London: 
printed by V. 8. for Thomas Bushele ; aiid are to be sold at bis 
shc^, at the great north doore of Paules. 1690. 12**.' There is 
a portrait of the author, engraved by Cecill, prefixed. Aooord- 
ing to the date upon this print Weever was then twenty-three 
years old ; but he tells us in some introductory stanzas that wheq 
he wrote the Epigrams, which compose the volume, he was not 
twenty years old ; that he was one 

' That twenty twelvemonths yet did never know.' 

Consequently these Epigrams must have been written in 1695. 


speeches, lead! us already to form the most nnfavoarable prog^- 
nostications respecting him : heJowers obliquelj like a thnnder- 
cload on the horizon, which gradual I j approaches nearer and 
nearer, and first pours out the elements of devastation with 
which it is charged when it hangs over the heads of mortals/ 
' The other characters of the drama are of too secondary a ubt 
ture to excite a powerful sympathy ; but in the back ground the 
widowed Queen Margaret appears as the fury of the past, who 
calls forth the curse on the future : every calamity which her 
enemies draw down on each other is a cordial to her revengeful 
heart. Other female voices join from time to time in the lamen- 
tations and imprecations. But Richard is the soul, or rather the 
demon, of the whole tragedy, and fulfils the promise which he 
formerly made to 

« ggj jjjg murderous Machiavel to sclfool.'* 

' Besides the uniform aversion with which he inspires us, he oc- 
cupies us in the greatest variety of ways by his profound skill 
in dissimulation, his wit, his prudence, his presence of mind, his 
^uick activity, and his valour. He fights at last against Rich- 
mond like a desperado, and dies the honourable death of the 
hero on the field of battle.' — But Shakspeare has satisfied our 
moral feelings: — 'He shows us Richard in his last moments 
already branded with the stamp of reprobation. We see Richard 
and Richmond on the night before battle sleeping in their tents ; 
the spirits of those murdered by the tyrant ascend in succession 
and pour out their curses against him, and their blessings on his 
adversary. These apparitions are properly merely the dreams 
of the two generals made visible* It is no doubt contrary to 
sensible probability that their tents should only be separated by 
so small a space ; but Shakspeare could reckon on poetical spec- 
tators, who were ready to take the breadth of the stage for the 
distance between the two camps, if by such a favour they were 
to be recompensed by beauties of so sublime a nature as this 
series of spectres, and the soliloquy of Richard on bis awaking *.' 

. * Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature,' vol. ti. p. 240. 


Steevens in part of a note, which I have thought it best to 
omit, observed that the faroar with which the tragedy has been 
received on the stage in modem times ' must in some measure 
be impnted to Gibber's reformation of it.* The original plaj 
was certainly too long for representation, and there were parts 
which might with advantage have been omitted in representation 
as ' dramatic encombrances ;' but sach a piece of clumsy patch- 
work as the performance of Gibber was surely any thing but 
< judicious ;* and it is only surprising that the taste which has 
led to other reformations in the performance of our great dra- 
matic poet's works, has not given to the stage a judicious abridg- 
ment of this tragedy in his own words, unencumbered with the 
superfluous transpositions and gratuitous additioas which bava 
been so long inflicted upon us. n 



King Edward the Fourth. 
Edward, Prince of Wales, qftenoards "j 

King Edward V. i Sons to the King. 

Richard, Duke qf York, j 

George, Duke qf Clarence, "j 

Richard, Duke qf Gloater, qfterwards y Brothers to the King. 

King Richard III. 3 

A young Son of Clarence. 

Henry, Earl qf Richmond, itfterwards King Henry VII. 
Cardinal Bouchier, Archbishop qf Canterbury. 
Thomas Rotheram, Archbishop qf York. 
John Morton, Bishop <{/* Ely. 
Duke qf Buckingham. 

Duke qf Norfolk : Earl qf Surrey, hie Son, 
Earl Rivers, Brother to King Edward's Queen, 
Marquis qf Dorset, and Lord Grey^ her Sons. 
Earl qf Oxford. Lord Hastings. Lord Stanley. 

Lord Lovel. 
Sir Thomas Vaughan. Sir Richard Ratcuff. 
Sir William Catesby. Sir James Tyrrel. 
Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert. 
Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower. 
Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest. 
Lord Mayor qf London. Sheriff qf Wiltshire. 

Elizabeth, Queen qf King Edward IV. 

Margaret, Widow qf King Henry VI. 

Duchess qf York, Mother to King Edward IV. Clarence, 
and Gloster. 

Lady Anne, Widow qf Edward, Prince of Wales, Son to 
King Henry VI. ; afterwards married to the Duke qf Glos- 

A young Daughter of Clarence. 

Lords, and other Attendants, two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, 
Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Sol- 
diers, ifc. 

SCENE— -England. 




SCEN E I. London. A Street. 

JE^er Gloster. . 


Now is the winter of our discontent 

Made glorious summer by this sun ^ of York; 

And all the clouds, that lour'd upon our house. 

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; 

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments^; 

Our stem alarums chang'd to merry meetings, 

Our dreadful marches to dehghtful measures^. 

Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; 

And now, — instead of mounting barbed^ steeds. 

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 

* The cognizance of Edward IV. was a sun^ in memory of the 
three sans which are said to have appeared at the battle which 
he gained over the Lancastrians at Mortimer's Cross. Vide the 
Third Part of King Henry VI. Act ii. Sc. 1. 

' ' Made glorious by his manly chivalry, 

With braised arms and wreaths of victory .' 

Rape of Lucrece, 

*■ Dances. 

^'i.e. steeds caparisoned or clothed in the trappings of war. 
The word is properly horded, from eqaas hardatuSf Latin of th^ 
middle ages. * 


He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber. 

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute^. 

But I, — ^that am not shap'd for sportive tricks. 

Nor made to court an amorous lookingrglass ; 

I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty. 

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; 

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion. 

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature ^, 

Deform'd, unfinish'd,- sent before my time 

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up. 

And that so lamely and unfashionable. 

That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them; — 

Why I, in this weak piping time of peace. 

Have no delight to pass away the time ; 

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. 

And jdescant on mine own deformity ; 

And therefore,"'*-8ince I cannot prove a lover. 

To entertain these fair well spoken days,^— 

I am detenniBed to prove a villiain. 

And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 

Plots have I laid, inductions^ dangerous. 

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams. 

To set my broths Clarence, and the king. 

In deadly hate the one against the other : 

And, if Ring Edward be as true and just, 

^ ' Is the warlike sound of drum and tnimp torned to the soft 
noise of lyre and lute ? The neighing of barbed steeds, whose 
loadness filled the air with terror, and whose breaths dimmed 
the son with smoke, converted to delicate tanes and amorons 
glances.' — Lyly's Alexander and Campaspe, 1584. There is a 
passage in the Legend of the Death of King Richard III. in the 
Mirror for Magistrates eyidently imitated from Shakspeare. 

' Feature is proportion, or beantj, in general. Vide Two 
Gentlemen of Verona, Act ii. Sc. 4, p. 127. By dissembling is 
not meant hypocritical nature, that pretends one thing and does 
another; but natare, that pots together things of a diisimiUr 
kind, as a brave sool and a deformed body. 

^ Preparations for mischief. 


As I am gubtle, false, and treacherous-. 
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up; 
About a prophecy, which says — ^that G 
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be®. 
Diye, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence 

Enter Clarence, guarded, and Braejsnbury. 

Brother, good day : What means this armed guard, 
That waits upon your grace ? 

Clar. His majesty. 

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 
This conduct to convey me to the Tower. 

Glo, Upon what cause ? 

Clar, Because my name is — George. 

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; 

He should, for that, commit your godfathers : •" 

O, belike, his majesty hath some intent. 

That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower. 

But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? 

Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; for, I protest, 
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn, 
He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams ; 
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, 
And says — a wizard told him, that by G - 
His issue disinherited should be; 
And, for my name of George begins with G, 
It follows in his thought, that I am he : 
These, as I learn, and such like toys^ as these. 
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. 

* This is from Holinshed. Philip de Comines sajs that the 
English at that time were never luifamished with some pro- 
phecy or other, bj which they accounted for every etent. 

' i.e. fancies, freaks of imagination; Thus in Hamlet, Act i. 
Sc. 4 :— 

' The very place put toys of desperation, 
Without more motive, into every brain.* 


6lo, Why, this it is, when men are ruFd by wo^ 
men : — 
Tis not the king, that sends you to the Tower; . 
My Lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she. 
That tempers ^^ him to this extremity. 
Was it not she, and that good man of worship, 
Antony Woodeville, her brother there. 
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower ; 
From whence this present day he is deliirer'd ? 
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. 

Clar, By heaven, I think, there is no man secure. 
But the queen's kindred, and nightrwalking heralds 
That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore. 
Heard you not, what an humble suppliant 
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ? 

Glo, Humbly complaining to her deity 
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. 
I'll tell you what, — I think, it is our way. 
If we will keep in favour with the king. 
To be her men, and wear her livery : 
The jealous o'er- worn widow, and herself ^^, 
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. 
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. 

Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; 
His majesty hath straitly given in charge, 
That no man shall have private conference. 
Of what degree soever, with his brother. 

Glo. Even so ? an please your worship, Braken- 

'^ i. e. frames his temper, moalds it to this extremity. This 
word is often used in the same figurative sense by Spenser and 
other cotemporaries of Shakspeare. 

' Now will I to that old Andronioas ; 

And temper him with all the art I have, 

To pluck proud Luoios from the warlike Goths/ 

Tihu Androniau, 
" The Queen and Shore. 


You may partake of any thing we say : 

We speak no treason, man ; — We say, the king 

Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble queen 

Well struck in years ^^; fair, and not jealous : 

We say, th«l Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 

A cherry lip, 

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue ; 

Asd that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks : 

How say you, sir ? can you deny all this ? 

BraJt, With this, my lord, myself have naught 

to do. 
Glo, Naught to do with mistress Shore ? I tell 
thee, fellow. 
He that doth naught with her, excepting one. 
Were best to do it secretly, alone. 
Brak* What one, my lord? 
Glo, Her husband, knave : — Would'st thou be- 
tray me ? 
Brak. I beseech your grace to pardon me ; and, 
Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
Clar. We know thy charge^ Brakenbury, and 

will obey^^. 
Glo. We are the queen's abjects^^, and must obey. 

'^ This odd expression was preceded by others eqaally sin- 
gular, expressing what we now call * an advanced age.' iThns in 
Arthur Hall's traoslatioD of the first book c»f Homer's Iliad, 
1681 :— 

' In Grea's forme, the good handmaid, nowe wel ystept 
in jeares.' 
And in Spenser's Faerie Qoeene, book t. can. 6 : — 
' Well shot in years he seem'd.' 

Warton has jastly observed that, ' by an imperceptible progres- 
sion from one kindred sense to another, words at length obtain 
a meaning entirely foreign to their etymology.' 

*3 This and the three preceding speeches were probably all 
designed for prose. It is at any rate imposstble that this line 
eoald have been intended for metre. 

*^ L e. the lowest of her subjects. This substantive is found 
in Psalm xxxv. 15 :— * Yea the very ofr^l^eame togetheragainst 


Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; 
And whatsoever you will employ me in, — 
Were it, to call King Edward's widow — sister, — 
I will perform it to enfranchise you. 
Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood. 
Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 
Clar, I know it pleaseth neither of us well. 
Mlo. Well, your imf)risonment shall not be long; 
I will deliver you, or else lie for you^: 
Mean time, have patience. 

Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 

[£^eien^ Clarence, Brakenbury, and 

Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er re- 
Simple, plain Clarence ! — I do love thee so, . 
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven. 
If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastino^? 

Enter Hastings. 

' Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord ! 

Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain ! 
Well are you welcome to this open air. 
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? 

Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must : 
But 1 shall live, my lord, to give them thanks. 
That were the cause of my imprisonment. 

me unawares, making months at me, and ceased not.' Again, in 
Chapman's translation of Homer's Odyssey, 21st book: — 

< Whither? rogne ! abject! wilt thoa bear from as 

That bow propos'd?' 

Again in the same author's version of Homer's Hjmn to Venas : — 
' That (hoa wilt never let me live to be 
An tf%'er/, after so divine degree 
Taken in fortune.' 
'^ He means, ' or else be impristftied in your stead.* To lie 

signified anciently to reside, or remain in a plaee, as J4>pe«rs bj 

many instanees in these volumes. 


Glo, No doubty no doubt; and so shall Clarence 
For they, that were your enemies, are bis, 
And have prevailed as much on him, as you. 

Hast, More pity that the eagle should be mew*d '^, 
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 

Gh. What news abroad ? 

Hctst, No news so bad abroad as this at home; — 
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, 
And his physicians fear him mightily. 

Cr/o. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. 
O, he hath kept an evil diet long. 
And over-much consumed his royal person ; 
Tis very grievous to be thought upon. 
What, is he in his bed? 

Hast, He is. 

Olo, Go you before, .and I will follow you. 

[Exit Hastings. 
He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die. 
Till George be packed with posthorse up to heaven. 
Ill in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
With lies well steeFd with weighty arguments ; 
And, if I fail not in my deep intent, 
Clarence hath not anolJier day to live : 
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy. 
And leave the world for me to bustle in ! 
For then Fll marry Warwick's youngest daughter*^ : 
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father ? 

*' A mew was a place in wkich falcons were kept ; and being 
cQDfined therein, while moalting, was metaphorically used for 
any close place or places of confinement. The verb to mem was 
formed from the substantive. Thus in Albnmazar: — 

* Stand forth, transformed Antonio, fnllj mew^d • 
From brown soar feathers of doll yeomanry 
To the glorioas bloom of gentry.' 
^7 Ladj Anne, the betrothed ^idow. of Edward prince of 
Wales. See King Henry VI. Part ill. 


The readiest way to make the wench amends, 

Is — to become her husband, and her father : 

The which will I ; not all so much for love, 

As for another secret close intent, 

]^y marrying her, which I must reach unto. 

But yet I run before my horse to market: 

Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives, and 

reigns ; 
When th^y are gone, then must I count my gains. 


SCENE II. The same. Another Street. 

Enter the Corpse of King Henry the Sixth, 
borne in an open Coffin, Gentlemen bearing Hal- 
berds, to guard it; and Lady Anne a« mourner. 

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load, — 
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
Whilst I a while obsequiously^ lament 
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster — 
Poor key-cold ^ figure of a holy king ! 
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster ! 
Thoii bloodless remnant of that royal blood ! 
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost. 
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, 
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these 
wounds ! 

* Funereal. Thus in Hamlet, Act i. So. 2 :— < 

' To do obsequious sorrow.' 

* A hey, on account of tbe coldness of the metal of which it is 
composed, was often employed to stop any slight bleeding. The 
epithet is common to many old writers. Thus in The Country 
Girl, by T, B. 1647 :— 

' The kejf-cold figure of a man.' 
Shakspeare employs it again in the Rape of Lncrece : — 
* And then in ksifrCoU ^norece' bleeding stream 
He falls.' 



Loy in these windows, that let forth thy life, 
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : — 
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes ! 
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it ! 
Cursed the blood, thatflet this blood from hence ! 
More direful hap betide that hated wretch. 
That makes us wretched by the death of thee, 
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. 
Or any creeping yenom*d thing that lives ! 
If ever he have child> abortive be it, 
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;' 
And that be heir to his unhappiness ^ ! 
If ever he have wife, let her be made 
More miserable by the death of him. 
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee ! — 
Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load. 
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ; 
And, still as you are weary of the weight, 
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse. 
[ The Bearers take up the Corpse^ and advance. 

Enter Gloster. 

Olo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it down. 
Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend. 
To stop devoted charitable deeds? 

Glo, Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint 
111 make a corse of him that disobeys '^. 

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. 
Glo. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I com- 
mand : 

' i. e. disposition to mischief. Tbns in Much Ado About No- 
thing : — ' Dreftmed of unhappiness and waked herself with laugh 

** ' I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.' Ilamlet. 


Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot. 
And spurn upon thee, beggar^ for thy boldness. 

[ The Bearers set down the coffin, 
' Anne, What, do you trenlble? are you all afraid? 
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal. 
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. — 
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body. 
His soul thou canst not have ; therefore, be gone. 
Glo, Sweet saint, for ch^ity, be not so curst. 
Anne, Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and 
trouble us not ; 
Por thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
Pill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds. 
Behold this pattern^ of thy butcheries; — 
O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds 
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh^! — 
Blush, blush; thou lump of foul defohnity; 
Por 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood 
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells ; 
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural. 

Provokes this deluge most unnatural. 

O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death ! 
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death ! 
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer 

Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick ; 

^ Example. 

* This is from Holiasbed. It is a tradition yerj generally 
received, that the murdered body bleeds on the touch of the mur- 
derer. This was so much belieyed bj Sir Renelm Digby, that 
.he has endeavoured to explain the reason. The opinion seems 
to be derived from the ancient Swedes, or northern nations, 
from whom we descended ; for they practised this method of 
(rial in dubious* cases. See Pittas Atku; Sweden, p. 20. ' 

SC. ir. KING RICHARD 111. 17 

As tbou dost swallow up this good king's blood. 
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath- butchered! 

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity. 
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. 

Anne, Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man; 
No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. 

Glo, But I know none, and therefore am no beast. 

Awne. O wonderful, when devils t$\\ the truth ! 

Glo, More wonderful, when angels are so angry. — 
Vouchsafe, dmne^perfection of a woman. 
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave. 
By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 

Anne, Vouchsafe, diffus'd''^ infection of a man. 
For these known evils, but to give me leave. 
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 

Glo, Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have 
Some patient leisure to excuse myself. 

Anne. Fouler than heart canihink thee, thou canst 
No excuse current, but to hang thyself^ 

Glo, By such despair, I should accuse myself. 

Anne, And, by despairing, shalt thou stand ex- 
cus'd ; 
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself. 
Thou didst unworthy slaughter upon others* 

Glo, Say; that I slew them not? 

Anne, Why then, they are not dead : 

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 

Glo, I did not kill your husband. 

Anne, Why, then he is alive. 

Glo. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's hand. 

Anne, In thy foul tiiroat thou liest; Queen Mar* 
garet saw 

"^ Diffused anciently signified dark, obscure, strange, uncouth, or 
confused. See notes on King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2, p. 51S ; and 
Merry Wi.ves of Windsor, Act iv. Sc. 4, p. 269. 



Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood ; 
The which thou once didst bend against her breast. 
But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 

Glo, I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue. 
That laid their guilt^ upon my guiltless shoulders. 

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, 
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries : 
Didst thou not kill this king? 

Glo. I grant ye. 

Anne, Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant 
me too, 
Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed ! 
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. 

Gh. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath hi|n. , 

Anne. He is in heaven, where thou sfaalt never 

Glo. Let him thank me, that holp to send him 
thither ; 
For he was fitter for that place, than earth. 

Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 

Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me 
^ name it. 

Anne. Some dungeon. 

Glo. Your bed-chamber. 

Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest ! 

Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. 

Anne. I hope so. 

Gh. I know so. — But, gentle Lady Anne, — 
To leave this keen encounter of our wits. 
And fall somewhat into a slower method; — 
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward, 
As blameful as the executioner? 

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd 

^ i.e. the crime of my brothers. He has jost charged the 
murder of Lady Anne's husband on Edward. 


Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect ; 
Your* beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, 
To undertake the death of all the world. 
So I mi^ht live one hour in your sweet bosom. 

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide. 
These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. 

Gh. These eyes could not endure that beauty's 
You should not blemish it, if I stood by : 
As all the world is cheered by the sun. 
So I by that; it is my day, my life. 

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death 
thy life ! 

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art 

Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. 

Gh. It is a quarrel most unnatural. 
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. 

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable. 
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. 

Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband. 
Did it to help thee to a better husband. 

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. 

Gh. He lives, that loves you better tiian he could. 

Anne. Name him. 

Gh. Plantagenet. 

Anne. Why, that was he, 

Gh. The self-same name, but one of better nature. 

Anne. Where is he ? 

Gh. Here: [She spits at Aim.] 

Why dost thou spit at me? 

Anne^ 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake ! 

Gh. N'ever ciame poison from so sweet a place. 

Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 

Gh. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. 

. I 


Anne, ^ Would they were basilisks, to strike thee 
dead 9! 

Glo, I would they were, that I might die at once ; 
For DOW they kill me with a living death ^^. 
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, 
Sham'd tiieir aspects with store of childish drops : 
These eyes, which never shed remorseful ^* tear, — 
No, — ^when my father York and Edward wept. 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him : 
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 
Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep. 
That all the standers-by had w6t their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash'd with rain : — in that sad time. 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear^^; 
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. 
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy ; 
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word ; 
But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee. 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
speak. [She looks s^prnfaUy at Mm. 

^ See notes on King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2, p. 517 ; and King 
Henry VI. Partll. Act iii. Sc.2, p. 198. 

'® We have the same expression in Venus and Adonis applied 
to lore : — 

' For I have heard it is a life in death . 
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.' 
Pope adopts it: — 

' -— — a living death I bear. 
Says Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair.' 
And in Watson's Sonnets, printed about 1580: — 

* Love is a sowre delight, a sug^ed griefe, 
A living death, and ever-dying life.' 

" Pitiful. 

*' Here is an apparent reference to King Henry VI. Part iii. 
Act ii. So. 1. 


Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made 

For kissing, la4y, not for such contempt. 

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 

Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; 

Which if thou please to hide in this true breast. 

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, 

I lay it naked to the deadly stroke. 

And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 

[He lays his breast open ; she offers at it with 
his sword. 
Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry ; — 
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me ^\ 
Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young Ed- 
ward ; — [She again offers at his breast. 
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 

[She letsfaU the sword. 
Take up the sword again, or take up me. 

Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy death , 
I will not be thy executioner. 

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. 

Anne. I have already. 

Glo. That was in thy rage : 

Speak it again, and, even with the word. 
This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy- love. 
Shall, for thy love, kill a tar truer love^ 
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. 
' Atme. I would, I knew thy heart. 

Gh. Tis figur'd in my tongue. 

Ann£. I fear me, both are false. 

Glo. Then never man was true. 

Ann^e. Well, well, put up your sword. 

Glo. Say then, my peace is made. 

Anne. That shall you know heretffter. 

'^ Sbakspeare conntenanceB the obseiration that oo woman 
can ever be offended with the mention of her beantv. 


Gh. But shall I live in hope? 

Anne. All men, I hope, live so. 

Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 

Anne, To take, is not to give. 

[She puts on the ring. 

Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth tiiy finger. 
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; 
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
And if thy poor devoted servant may 
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, 
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. 

Anne. What is it? 

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad 
To him that hath more cause to be a mourner. 
And presently repair to Crosby-place^*: 
Where — after I have solemnly interr'd. 
At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king. 
And wet his grave with my repentant tears, — 
I will with all expedient ^^ duty see you: 
Tox divers unknown reasons, I beseech you. 
Grant me this boon. 

Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too. 
To see you are become %o penitent. — 
Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. 

Gh. Bid me farewell. 

Anne. Tis more than you deserve : 

^^ Crosby Place is now Crosby Square, in Bishopsgate Street. 
This magnificent house was buflt in 1466, by Sir John Crosby, 
grocer and woolman. He diewh 1475. The ancient hall of 
this fabric is still remaining, though diyided by an additional 
floor, and encambered with modern galleries, having been con- 
verted into a place of worship for Antinomians, &c. The upper 
part of it was lately the warehouse of an emioent packer. Sir 
J. Crosby's tomb is in the neighbouring church of St. Helen the 

*^ i. e. expeditious. 


Buty since you teach me how to flatter you, 
Imagine I have said farewell already ^^. 

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and 

Gh, SirSj, take up the corse. 

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? 

Glo. No, to White Friars ; there attend my coming. 

[Exeunt the rest, with the Corse. 
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? 
Was ever woman in this humour won ? 
I'll have her,-^— but I will not keep her long. 
What ! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father. 
To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; 
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes. 
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; 
With God, her conscience, and these bars againstme. 
And I no friends to back my suit withal. 
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks. 
And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing! 

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, 
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ^"^ ? 

'* Cibber, who altered King Richard III. for the stage, was 
so tboroaghly convinced of the improbability of this scene, that 
he thought it necessary to make Tressel say : — 

' When fatore chronicles shall speak of this. 

They will be thought romance, not history.' ^ 

The embassy njider Lord Macartney to China witnessed the 
representation of a play in a theatre at Tien-sing with a similar 
incongruons plot. 

'^ This fixes the exact tin# of the scene to Angnst, 1471. 
King Edward, howerer. is introduced in the second act dying. 
That king died in April, 1483 ; consequently there is an interval 
between this and the next act of almost twelve years. Clarence, 
who is represented in the preceding scene as committed to the 
Tower before the burial of King Henry YI. was in fact not con- 
fined nor put to death till March, 1477-8, seven years after- 


A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, — 

Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, 

Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, — 

The spacious world cannot again afford: 

And will she yet abase her eyes on me. 

That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince. 

And made her widow to a woful bed? ' 

On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 

On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus ? 

My dukedom to a beggarly denier^®, 

I do mistake my person all this while : 

Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot. 

Myself to be a marvellous proper man ^^. 

I'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 

And entertain a score or two of tailors, - 

To study fashions to adorn my body : 

Since I am crept in favour with myself, 

I will maintain it with some little cost. 

But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in^^ his grave; 

And then return lamenting to my love. — 

Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass. 

That I may see my shadow as I pass. . [Exit, 


The same, A Room in the Palace, 

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and 

Lord Grey. 

iStv. Have patience, madam; there^s no doubt, 
his majesty 
Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 

Ctrey, In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse : 

'^ A small coin, the twelfth part of a French aomt. 
^^ Manrellons is here used adverbially. A proper man, in old 
laojrnage, was a well proportumed on«, 
» Jn for tjito. 


Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, 
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. 

Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of me ? 

Grey. No other harm^ but loss of such a lord. 

Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. 

Gretf. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly 
To be yoiir comforter when he is gone: 

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority 
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, 
A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 

Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector ? 

Q. Eliz. It is determine, not concluded yet ^ : 
But so it must be, if the king miscarry. 

Enter Buckingham and Stanley^. • 

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and 

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace ! 
Sttm. God make your majesty joyful as you have 

Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmond^, good my lord 

of Stanley, 
To your good prayer will scarcely say — amen. 

' Vetermin'd signifies the final conclusion of the will : con- 
eluded, what cannot be altered by reason of some act, consequent 
on the final judgment. See note on King Henry VI. Part I. 
Act iv. Sc. 6, p. 90. 

3 By inadyertence in the old copies Derby is put for Stanley. 
The person meant was Thomas Lord Stanley, lord steward of 
King Edward the Fonrth^s household. But he was not created 
earl of Derby till after the accession of King Henry VII. In 
the fourth and fifth acts of this play he is every where called 
Lord Stanley. 

^ Margaret, daughter to John Beaufort, first duke of Somer- 
seL After the death of her first husband, Edmund Tudor, earl 
of Richmond, half brother to King Henry VI. by whom she had 
only one son, afterwards King Henry VII. She married Sir 
Henry Stafford, unck to Humphry duke of Buckingham. 



Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife. 
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd, 
I hate not you for her proud arrogance. 

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe 
The envious slanders of her false accusers ; 
Or, if she be accus'd on true report. 
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds 
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. 

Q. Eliz. Saw you .the king to-day, my lord of 
Stanley ? 

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and 1, 
Are come from visiting his majesty. 

Q. Eliz. Whatlikelihoodofhis amendment, lords? 

Buck. Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks cheer- 

Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you confer 
with him ? 

Buck. Ay, madam: he desires to make atone- 
Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers. 
And between them and my lord chamberlain ; 
And sent to warn^ them to his royal presence. 

Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well ! — But that will 
never be ; — 
I fear, our happiness is at the height. 

Enter Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset. 

Gh. They do me wrong, and I wiH not endure 
Who are they, that complain unto the king. 
That I, forsooth, am stem, and love them not?^ 
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly. 
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. 
Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair, 

^ i. e. snmmoii. Thas in Jnlias Caesar:— 

' They mean to vcam us at Philippi here.' 
The word is still used in that sense in Scotland. 


Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm. 
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd 
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks ? 

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your 
grace ? 

Gh. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. 
When have I injur'd thee ? when done thee wrong? — • 
Or thee? — or thee? — or any of your faction? 
A plague upon you all! His royal grace, — 
Whom God preserve better than you would wish ! — 
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing while. 
But you must trouble him with lewd^ complaints. 

Q. Eliz, Brother of Gloster, you mistake the 
matter : 
The king, of his own royal disposition. 
And' not provok'd by any suitor else ; 
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred. 
That in your outward action shows itself, 
Against my children, brothers, and myself. 
Makes him to send : that thereby he may gather 
The ground of your ill li^ill, and so remove it. 

Glo. I cannot tell^ ; — ^The world is grown so bad, 
That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch : 
Since every Jack ^ became a gentleman, 
There's many a gentle person made a Jack. 

' Lewd here signifies idUt ungracious ; and not rude, ignorant, 
as Steevens asserts. * I make as though I saw not thj leude 
pajantis (i. e. thy idle deyices) tnis ineptiis.' HomuuCs Vulgaria, 

* i. e. I cannot tell what to say or think of it. See note on 
King Henry IV. Part ii. Act i. Sc. 2, p. 269 ; and Mr. Gifford's 
Ben Jonson, vol. i. p. 125. 

^ This proverbial expression at once demonstrates the origin 
of the term Jack, so often ased by Shakspeare. It means one of 
the Tery lowest class of people, among whom this name is most 
common and familiar. 


Q. EHz. Come, come, we know your meaning, 
brother Gloster ; 
You envy my advancement, and my friends ; 
God grant, we never may have need of you ! 

Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need 
of you : 
pur brother is imprison'd by your means, 
Myself disgraced, and the nobility 
Held in contempt; while great promotions 
Are daily given, to ennoble those 
That scarce, some two days since, were worth anoble. 

Q. Eliz. By Him, that rais'd me to this careful 
From that contented hap which I enjoyM, 
I never did incense his majesty 
Against the duke of Clarence, but have been 
An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
My lord, you do me shameful injury. 
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 

Glo, You may deny tha,t you were not the cause 
Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment. 

Riv, She may, my lord ; for 

Glo, She may, Lord Rivers ? — why, who know^ 
not so ? 
She may do more, sir, than denying that: 
8he may help you to many fair preferments ; 
And then deny her aiding hand therein. 
And lay th6se honours on your high desert. 
WhatiAay she not? She may, — ay, marry may she, — 

Riv, What, marry, may she ? 

Glo, What, marry, may she ? marry with a king, 
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too : 
I wis°, your grandam had a worser match. 

Q, Eliz, My lord of Gloster, 1 have toolongborne 
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs : 
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty, 

* i. e. r think. 


Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd. 
I had rather be a country servant maid. 
Than a great queen, with this condition — 
To be so baited, scom'd, and stormed at : 
Small jey have I in being England's queen. 

Enter Queen Margaret, behind. 

Q, Mar» And lessen'd be that small, God, I be- 
seech thee ! 
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. 

Glo. What ? threat you me with telling of the king ? 
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said 
I will avouch, in presence of the king : 
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 
'Tis time to speak, my pains ^ are quite forgot. 

Q. Mar. Out, devil ! I remember them too well : 
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, 
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 

Gh. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king, 
I was a packhorse in his great affairs ; 
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, 
A liberal rewarder of his friends ; 
To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own. 

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, or 

Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband 

Were factious for the house of Lancaster; — 
And, Rivers, so were you : — ^Was not your husband 
In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain ^^? 
Let me put in your minds, if you forget. 
What you have been ere now, and what you are; 
Withal, what I have been, and what I am. 

' Labours. 

^ See note on King Henry VI. Part III. Act lii. Sc. 2, p. 323. 
Margaret's hatth is Margaret's army. 



Q. Mar. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art- 
Gh. Poor Clarence did forsake his father War- 
Ay, and forswore himself, — Which Jesu pardon! — 

Q. Mar. Which God revenge ! 

Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown : 
And, for his meed ^^5 poor lord, he is mew'd up: 
I would to God, my heart were flint like Edward's, 
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine; 
I am too childish-foolish for this world. 

Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave 
this world. 
Thou cacodaemon ! there thy kingdom is. 

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, 
W^hich here you urge, to prove us enemies. 
We follow 'd then our lord, our lawful king; 
So should we you, if you should be our king. 

Glo. If I should be? — I had rather be a pedlar : 
.Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! 

Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose 
You should. enjoy, were you this country's king; 
As little joy you may suppose in me. 
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. 

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; 
For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
I can no longer hold me patient. — [Advancing. 
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall oqt 
In sharing that which you have pill'd^^ from me: 
•Which of you trembles not, that looks on me ? 
If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects ; 
Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels? — 
Ah, gentle ^^ villain, do not turn away ! 

" Reward. 

^' To pill 18 to pillage. It is often used with to poU or strip. 
' Kildare did use to pill and poll his friendes, tenants, and re- 
ieyners.* - Holinshed, 

*' Gentle is here used ironicallj. 


Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st^^ thou in 
my sight? 

Q. Mar, But repetition of what thou hast marr'd ; 
That will I make, before I let thee go. 

Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ^^ ? 

Q. Mar. I was ; but I do find more pain in banish- 
Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me, — 
And thou a kingdom; — all of you, allegiance: 
This sorrow that I have, by right is yours ; 
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 

Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, — 
Wlien diou didst crown his warlike brows with paper, 
And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes ; 
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, 
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland; — 
His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee ; 
And. God, not we, hath plagu'd ^^ thy bloody deed. 

14 < What dost thoa in mj si^ht/ This phrase has been alreadj 
explained in the notes to Love's Labour's Lost, Act iv. Sc. 3. Tn 
As You Like It, Act i. Sc. 1, Shakspeare again plajs upon the 
word make, as in this instance : — 

* Now, sir, what make yon here? 

Nothing: I am not tanght to make anything/ 
1^ Margaret fled into France after the battle of Hexham, in 
1464, and Edward issued a proclamation prohibiting any of his 
sobjects from aiding her retarn, or harbouring her, should she 
attempt to revisit England. She remained abroad till April, 
1471, when she landed at Weymouth. After the battle of 
Tewksbory, in May, 1471, she was confined in the Tower, where 
she continued a prisoner till 1476, when she was ransomed by 
her father Regnier, and renpoved to France, where she died in 
1482. So that her introduction in the present scene is a mere 
poetical fiction. * 

18 To plague in ancient language is to punish. Hence th^ 
scriptural term of the plagues of Egypt. Thus also in King 
John: — 

' That he's not only plagued for her sin/ 


Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent. 

Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe. 
And the most merciless that e'er was heard of. 

Riv, Tyrants themselves wept when it was re- 

Dors, No man but prophesied revenge for it. 

Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to 
see it*^. 

Q. Mar. What! were you snarling all, before I 
Keady to catch each other by the throat. 
And turn you all your hatred now on me ? . 
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven. 
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death. 
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment. 
Could all but'^ answer for that peevish brat? 
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? — 
Why» th^n give way, dull clouds, to my quick 

curses ! — 
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king ^9, 
As ours by murder, to make him a king! 
£dward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, 
For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, 
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence ! 
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen. 
Outlive thy glory, like my wetched self! 
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's loss ; 
And see another, as I see thee now, 
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine ! 
Long die thy happy days before thy death; 
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, 

" See King Henry VI. Part in. Act 1, Sc. 2:— 

' What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland.' 

'^ Biii is here used in its exceptive sense : could all this only, 
or nothing hut (i. e. he out or except) this answer for the death of 
that brat. Vide note on The Tempest, vol. i. p. 19. 

'^ Alluding to his laxarious life. 


Die neither mother^ wife, nor England's queen ! — 
Riyersy — and Dorset^ — yon were standers by, — 
And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, — when my son 
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray him, 
That none of you may live your natural 'age. 
But by some unlook'd accident cut off! 

G/b.Have done thy charm,thou hateful wither'd bag. 

Q. Mar. And leave out thee ? stay, dog, for thou 
shalt'hear me. 
If heaven have any grievous plague in store. 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, 
And then hurl down their indignation 
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace ! 
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st. 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine. 
Unless it be while some toimenting dream 
Afirights thee with a hell of ugly devils ! 
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog^^! 

^ ' Thon elvish marVd^ abortive, rooting hog.' It was an old 
prejudice which is not jet quite extinct, that those who are de- 
fective or deformed are nuirked by nature as prone to mischief. 
She calls him hog, in allusion to his cognizance, which was a 
boar. ' The expressibn (sajs Warburton) is fuie, remembering 
her youngest son, she alludes to the ravage which hogs make 
with the finest flowers in gardens ; and intimating that Elizabeth 
was to expect no other treatment for her sons.' The rhyme for 
which ColUngborne was executed, as given by Heywood in his 
Metrical History of King Edward lY. will illustrate this : — 

' The cat, the rat, and Lovell our dog. 

Doe rule all England under a hog. 

The crooke backt boore the way hath found 

To root our roses from our ground. 

Both flower and bud will he confound. 

Till king of beasts the swine be crown'd : 

And then the dog, the oat, and rat 

Shall in his trough feed and be fat.' 
The persons aimed at in this rhyme were the king, Catesby, Rat- 
Iciff, and Lovell. 


Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell I 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
Thou rag of honour ! thou detested 

Glo. Margaret 

Q. Mar. Richard ! 

Glo. Ha? 

Q. Mar. I call thee not. 

Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think. 
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. 

Q. Mar. Why, so I did : but look'd for no reply. 
O, let me make the period to my curse. 

Glo. 'Tis done by me ; and ends in — Margaret'. 

Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse.against 

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my 
fortune ! 
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider^^. 
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about? 
Fool, fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad. 

Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantick curse ; 
Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. 

Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all 
mov^d mine. 

Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught 
your duty. 

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me 
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects : 
O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. 

Dors. Dispute not with her, she is lunatick. 


^^ Allading to Gloster's form and venom. A bottled spider in 
ft large, bloated, glossy spider: snpposed to contain venom pro- 
portionate to its t$ize. 


Q. Mar, Peace, master marquis, you are malapert: 
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current ^^ : 
O, that your young nobility could judge, 
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable ! 
They that stand high, have many blasts to-shake them : 
And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. 

Glo, Good counsel, marry; — learn it, learn it, 

Dcrs, It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 

Gh. Ay, and vnuch more : But I was bom so high. 
Our aiery*' buildeth in the cedar's top. 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 

Q.JIfar. And turns the sun to shade ! — alas! alas ! — 
Witness my son, now in the shade of death; 
Whose bright outshining beams thy cloudy wrath 
Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest : — 
O God, t^at seest it,, do not suffer it; 
As it was won with blood, lost be it so ! 

Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. 

Q. Mar, Urge neither charity nor shame to me ; 
Uncharitably with me have you dealt. 
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. 
My charity is outrage, life my shame, — 
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage ! 

Buck. Have done, have done. 

Q. Mar, O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand. 
In sign of league and amity with thee : 

^ He was created marquis of Dorset in 1476. The scene is 
laid in 1477-8. 

^ Aiery for brood. This word properly signified a brood of 
eagles, or hawks ; thongh in later times often nsed for the nest 
of those birds of prey. Its etymology is from eyren, eggs ; and 
we accordingly sometimes find it spelled eyry. The commenta- 
tors explained it nest in this passage, according to which explar 
nation the meaning a few lines lower wonld be, ' yonr nest 
fooildeth in oar nest^s nestV 


Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house ! 
Thy gannents are not spotted with our blood. 
Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 

Btick. Nor no one here ; for curses never pass 
The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 

Q. Mar, I'll not believe but they ascend the sky, 
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog; 
Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and, when he bites. 
His venom tooth will rankle to the death: 
Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him; 
And all their ministers attend on him. 

Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham? 

Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. 

Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle 
counsel ? 
And sooth the devil that T warn thee fron\? 
O, but remember this another day, 
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; 
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess. — 
Live each of you the subjects to his hate. 
And he to yours, and all of you to God's ^? [Exit, 

Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. 

Riv. And so doth mine ; I muse, why she'§ at 

Gh. I cannot blame her, by Gdd's holy mother ; 
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent 
My part thereof, that I have done to her. 

Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge . 

** It is evident, from the conduct of Shakspeare, that the 
hoage of Tndor retained all their Lancastrian prejudices, eyen 
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He seems to deduce the woes 
of the house of York from the curses which Queen Margaret had 
ranted against them ; and he could not give that weight to her 
curses, without supposing a right in her to utter them. Wal- 



GU), Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. 
I was too hot to do somebody good, 
That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid : 
He is frank'd^ up to fatting for his pains; — 
God pardon them that are the cause thereof! 

Riv, A virtuous and a christianlike conclusion. 
To pray for them that have done scath^^ to us. 

Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd ; — ' 
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. \_Aside» 

Enter Catesby. 

Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you, — 
And for your grace, — and you, my noble lords. 

Q. Eliz, Catesby, I come : — Lords, will you go 
with me ? 

Riv. Madam, we will attend your grace. 

[Exeunt all but Gloster. 

Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin, to brawl. 
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, 
I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
Clarence, — whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness, 
I do beweep to many simple gulls ; 
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ; 
And tell them — 'tis the queen and her allies. 
That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
Now they believe it; and jv^ithal whet me - 
To be reveng'd on Hivers, Vaughan, Grey : 
But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture, . 
Tell them — ;that God bids us do good for evil : 
And thus I clothe my naked villany 
Willi old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ : 
And ^eem a saint, when most I play the devil. 

^' Ai frank is a jpen or coop in which hogs and other animals were 
confined while fatting. To be franked up was to be closely eon- 
fined. To frtmch, or frank, was to stoff, to crain, to fatten. 

* Harm, mischief. 



Enter Two Murderers. 

But soft, here come my executioners. 
How now, my hardy, stout resolyed mates ? 
Are you now going to despatch this thing? 

1 Murd, We are, my Iprd ; and come to have the 
That we may be admitted where he is. 

GU). Well thought upon, I have it here about me : 

[Gives the Warrant. 
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. 
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ; 
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps. 
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 
1 Murd, Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to 
Talkers are no good doers ; be assur'd. 
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. 
Glo. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes 
drop tears *^ : 
I like you, lads : — about your business straight; 
Go, go, despatch. 

1 Murd, We will, my noble lord. 


SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower. 
Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. 


Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to day ? 

Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night. 
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights. 
That, as I am a christian faithful man, 

• 97 T^is appears to have been a proverbial saying. It occars 
mgain in the tragedj of Ciesar and Pompeji 1607 : — 

' Men's ejes mast millstones drop, when fools shed tears.' 


I would not spend another such a night. 
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; 
So full of dismal terror was the time. 

Brak. What was your dream^ my lord ? I pray 

you, tell me. 
Clar, Methoughty that I had broken from the 
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy^ ; 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster : 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches ; thence we look'd toward Eng- 
And cited up a thousand heavy times. 
During the wars of York and Lancaster 
That had befall'n us. As we pac*d along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling. 
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, 
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
O Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears^ : 
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 

* Clarence was desirous to assist his sister Margaret against 
the French king, who invaded her jointnre lands after the death 
of her husband, Charles duke of Burguiidj, who was killed at 
Nancy, in Jannary, 1476-7. Isabel, the wife of Clarence, being 
then dead (poisoned by the dake of Gloucester, as it has been 
conjectured), he wished to have married Mary, the daughter and 
heir of the duke of Burgundy ; but the match was opposed by 
Edward, who hoped to have obtained her for his brother-in-law. 
Lord Rivers, aYid this circumstance has been suggested as the 
principal cause of the breach between Edward and Clarence. 
Mary of Burgundy however chose a husband for herself, having 
married, in 1477, Maximilian, son of the Emperor Frederic. 

' See a note on Milton's Lycidas, v. 157. Milton's Minor 
Poems, by T. Warton, ed. 1791. 


Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearly 

Inestimable stones, unvalued ^ jewels> 

All scatter'd in the bottom of die sea, 

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were; crept 

(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems. 

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep. 

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 

Brak, Had you such leisure in the time of deaths 
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? 

Clar, Methought, I had ; and often did I strive 
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To seek the empty, vasf*, and Vand'ring air; 
But smother'd it within my panting bulk^« 
Which almost burst to belch it is the sea. 

Brak, Awak'd you not with this sore agony ? 

Clar, O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; 
O, then began the tempest to my soul ! 
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood. 
With that grim ferryman which poets write of. 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
The first that there did greet my stranger soul. 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 
Who cry'd aloud, — What scourge for perjury 
Can this darh monarchy afford false Clarence? 
And so he vanish'd : Then came wand'ring by 

^ Unvalued for istvaluable, not to be yalned, inestimable. Thus 
Spenser, sonnet Ixxvii. : — 

' Two golden apples of unvaleui'd price.' 
And Milton, speaking of Shakspeare : — 

* ' each heart 

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book 
Those Delphick lines with deep impression took.' 
^ Vast is waste, desolate, Yastnm per inane. 
^ Buttf i. e. breast. See note on Hamlet, Act ii. Sc. 1. 


A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood ^, and he shriek'd out aloud, — 
Clarence is cotne, — -false, fleeting'^, perjur'd Clarence, 
That stabbed me in ihejield by Tewksbury ; — 
Seize on him, furies, take him to yofir torments! 
With that, methought, a legion of foul^ fiends 
Environ'd me, knd howled in mine ears 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after. 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 

Brak* No marvel^ lord, though it affrighted you ! 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it 

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things — 
That now give evidence against my soul, — 
For Edward's sakfe ; and, see, how he requites me ! — 

God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee. 
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds. 

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : 

O, spare my guiltless wife ®, and my poor children ! — 

1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; 
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 

Brak, I will, my lord; God give your grace 
good rest! — 

[Clarence reposes himself on a Chair ^ 
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. 

* Lee has transplanted this image into his Mithridates, Act iy. 
Sc. 1. 

7 Fleeting or fiittingt in old language, was used for uncerttdn, 
mamstantf Jluctuating, Thus in Antony and Cleopatra :— • 

' now the /eefw^ moon 

No planet is of mine.' 
Clarence broke his oath with the earl of Warwick, and joined the 
army of his brother Edward. See King Henry YI. Part ill. 
Act ▼. Sc. 1 . 

® The wife of Clarence died before he was apprehended and 
confined in the Tower. See note on p. 39. 

£ 2 


Princes have but their tides for their glbries^. 
An outward honour for an inward toil ; . 
And, for unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares ^**: 
So ttiat, between their titljes, and low name, 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

Enter the Two Murderers. 

1 Murd. Ho ! who's here ? 
Brak. What would'st thou, fellow? and how 
cam'st thou hither ? 

1 Murd, I would speak with Clarence, and I 
came hither on my legs. 

Brak. What, so brief? 

2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than te- 

dious : — 
Let him see our commission ; talk no more. 

[A Paper is delivered to Brakenbury, who 
reads it. 
Brak. I am j in this, commanded to deliver 
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands : — 
. I will not reason what is meant hereby, 
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.. 
Here are the keys ; — ^there sits the duke asleep : 
I'll to the king ; and signify to him, • 
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 

1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom : 
Fare you well. [Exit Brakenbury. 

2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ? 

^ This line may be thns understood, ' The glories of princes 
are nothing more than empty titles :' bat it would impress the 
purpose of the speaker, and correspond better with the following 
lines, if it were read : — 

' Princes have but their titles for their troubles,' 

*^ They often suffer real miseries for imaginary and unreal 


1 Murd. No; 'he'll say, ^twas done cowardly, 
when he wakes. 

2 Murd. When he wakes ! why, fool, he shall 
never wake until the great judgment day. 

1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd hiii^ 

. 2 Murd. Theurgingof that word, judgment, hath 
bred a kind of remorse in me. 

1 Murd. What? art thou afraid? 

2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; 
but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no 
warrant can defend me. 

1 Murd. I thought, thou had'st been resolute. 

2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. 

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and 
tell him so. 

2 Murd. Nay, I pr'y thee, stay a little : I hope, 
this holy humour of mine will change ; it was wont 
to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 

1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now? 

2 Murd. 'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience 
are yet within me. 

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's 

2 Murd. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the reward. 

1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now? 

2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 

1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us 
our reward, thy conscience flies out. 

2 Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, or 
none, will entertain it. 

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again ? 

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous 
thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot 
steal, but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear, but 
it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's . 


wife, but it detects him: Tis a blushing shame- 
faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills 
one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a 
purse of gold, that by chance I found : it beggars 
any man that keeps it : it is turned out of all towns 
and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man 
that means to live well, endeavours to trust to him- 
self, and live without it. 

1 Murd, 'Zounds, it is evfeil now at my elbow, 
persuading me not to kill the duke. 

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe 
him not : he would insinuate with thee, but to make 
thee sigh^^. 

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot prevail 
with me. 

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall ^^ fellow, that respects 
his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work ? 

1 Murd. Take him over the costard ^^ with the 
hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malm- 
sey butt, in the next room. 

2 Murd. O excellent device ! and make a sop of 

1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes. 

2 Murd. Strike. 

1 Murd. No, we'll reason^* with him. 
Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of 

'* One villain says. Conscience is at bis elbow, persuading 
him not to kill the duke. The other says, take the devil into thjf 
mind, who will be a match for thy conscience and believe it not. 
Perhaps conscience is here personified, as in Laancelot*s dia* 
logne in the Merchant of Venice ; but however that may be, 
Shakspeare would have used him for it without scruple. 

*' i. e. a IhM courageous fellow. Vide note on The M«rrj 
Wives of Windsor, Act i. Sc. 5, p. 202. 

'^ Head. See Love's Labour's Lost, Act iii. Sc. 1, note 10. 

*^ i. c. talk with him. Thus in The Merchant of Venice : — 
' I reason d with a Frenchman yesterday.* 


1 Murd, You shall have wine enough, my dord, 

Clar, In God*s name, what art thou ? 

1 Murd. A man, as you are. 

Clar, But not, as I am, royal. 

1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are 

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks 
mine own. 

Clar, How darkly, and how deadly dost thou 
speak ! 
Your eyes do menace me : Why look you pale ? 
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? 

Both Murd. To, to, to, 

Clar. To murder me ? 

Both Murd. Ay, ay. 

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so. 
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you ? 

1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king. 

Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again. 

2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. 

Clar. Are you cal^'d forth from out a world of men. 
To slay the innocent? What is my offence? 
Where is the evidence th&t doth accuse me? ' 
What lawful quest ^^ have given their verdict up 

'^ Quest was the tenn for a jury, * A quest of twelve men, 
Doodecim Tiratcu.' Baret. In Hamlet we have * crowners 
quest law.' 

Sbakspeare has followed the current tale of his own time. Bat 
the truth is, that Clarence was tried and found guiltj bj his 
peers, and a bill of attainder was afterwards passed against 
him. According to Sir Thomas More, his death was commanded 
hy Edward ; but he does not assert that the duke of Gloster was 
the instnunent. Polydore Virgil says, though he talked with 
several persons who lived at the time, he never could get any 
certain account of the motives that induced Edward to put his 
brother to death. 


Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd 
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ? 
Before I be convict by course of law. 
To threaten me with death is most unlawful. 
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption ^^ 
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins^ 
That you depart, and lay no hands on me ; 
The deed you undertake is damnable. 

1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon command. 

2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our 


Clar, Erroneous vassal ! the great King of kings 
Hath in the table of his law commanded. 
That thou shalt do no murder ; Wilt thou then 
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ? 
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand. 
To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 

2 Murd, And that same vengeance doth he hurl 
on thee, 
For false forswearing, and for murder too : 
Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight 
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster. 

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, 
Didst break that vow ; and, with thy treacherous 

Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 

2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and 

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful 
law to us. 
When thou hast broke it in such. dear ^^ degree? 

Clar. Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill deed ? 
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake : 

'^ This line was altered, and the sabseqnent line omitted, bj 
the editors of the folio, to avoid the penalty of the statate, 
3 Jac. I. c. 21. 

»7 See note on Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1. 


He sends you not to murder me for this ; 
For in that sin he is as deep as I. 
If God will be avenged for the deed, 
O, know ypu, that he doth it publickly ; 
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ; 
He needs no indirect nor lawless course, 
To cut off those that have offended him. 

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister, 
When gallant springing, brave Plantagenet^^, 
That princely novice ^^, was struck dead by thee ? 

Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. 

1 Murd, Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy 

Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. 

Clar. If you do love my bi-other, hate not me ; 
I am his brother, and I love him well. 
If you are hired for meed ^, go back again. 
And I will send you to my brother Gloster ; 
Who shall reward you better for my life. 
Than Edward will for tidings of my death. 

2 Murd, You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster 

hates you ^^. 

'* Blooming Plantagenet, a prince in the spring of life. 

*• Youth, one jet new to the world. 

** Reward. 

^ TValpole rightly suggested, from the Chronicle of Crojland, 
that the tme caase of Gloster's hatred to Clarence was, that 
Clarence was unwilling to share with his brother that moiety of 
the estate of the great of earl of Warwick, to which Gloster be- 
came entitled on his marriage with the yonnger sister of the 
dnchess of Clarence, Lady Anne Neville, who had been be- 
trothed to Edward prince of Wales. This is fally confirmed by 
a letter from Sir John Paston to his brother, dated Feb. 14, 
1471-2 : — * Yesterday the king, the qneen, my lords of Clarence 
and Gloucester went to Shene to pardon ; men say, not all in 
charity. The king entreateth my lord of Clarence for my lord 
of Gloucester ; and, as it is said, he answereth, that he may well 
have my lady his sister-in-law, but they shall part no liveUhood, as 
he saith ; so, what will fall, can I not /say.* Paston Letters, 
Tol. ii. p. 91. 


Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear : 
Go you to him from me. 

Both Murd. Ay, so we will. 

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father York 
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm. 
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, 
He little thought of this divided friendship : 
Bid Gloster think on this, and he.vFiU weep. 

1 Murd. Ay, millstones ; as he lesson'd us to weep. 

Cldr, O, do not slander him, for he is kind. , 

1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest. — Come, you 
deceive yourself; 
Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. 

Clar. It cannot be ; for he bewept my fortune, • 
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs. 
That he would labour my delivery. 

1 Murd, Why, so he doth, when he delivers you 
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 

2 Murd, Make peace with God, for you must die, 

my lord. 

Clar, Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul. 
To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind. 
That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring me ? — 
Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on 
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. 

2 Murd. What shall we do ? 

Clar, Relent, and save your souls. 

1 Murd. Relent! *tis cowardly, and womanish. 

Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish. — 
Which of you, if you were a prince's son. 
Being pent from liberty, as I am now. 
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you, — 
Would not entreat for life ? — 
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer. 


Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, 
As you would beg, were you in my distress. 
A begging prince what beggar pities not? 
2 Murd, Look behind you, my lord. 

1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not 

do, . [Stabs' him. 

I'll drown you in the malmsey butt within. 

[Exit, with the body. 

2 Murd. A bloody' deed, and desperately de- 

spatched ! 
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands 
Of this most grievous guilty murder done ! 

Re-enter first Murderer. 

1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, that 

thou heip'st me not? 
By hearen, the duke shall know how slack you have 

2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd hi^ 

brother ! 
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ; 
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [jE^. 

1 Murd. So do not I ; go, coward, as thou art — 
'Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole. 
Till that the duke give order for his burial : 
And when I have my meed, I will away ; 
For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Exit. 





SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Kino Edward (led in dck)^ Queen Eli- 
zabeth, Dorset, RivEks, Hastings, Buck- 
ingham, Grey, and Others. 

K. Edw. Why, so: — now have I done a good 
day's work ; — 
You peers, continue this united league : 
I every day expect an embassage 
Fron^ my B«deeiiier to redeem me hence; 
And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven, 
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. 
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand; 
Dissemble not your hatred^, swear your love. 

Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudg- 
ing hate ; 
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. 

Mast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like ! 

K. Edw, Take heed, you dally not before your 
Lest he, that is the supr^ne King of kings. 
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
Either of you to be the other's end. 

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love ! 

Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart ! 

K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, — 
Nor your son Dorset, — Buckingham, nor you ; — 
You have been factious one against the olher. 


* i. e. do not merely eloke and conceal your ill will to each 
other, hnt eradicate it altogether from your hoaoms, and awear 
to lore each other. 


Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kissi your hand ; 
And what you do, do it unfeignedly. 

Q.Eliz. Th^re, Hastmgs;-^! will never more 
Our former hatred, so tbdye I, and mine ! 

K, Edw, Dorset, embrace him, — Bbstings, love 
lord marquis. 

Dor, This interchange of lore, I here protest. 
Upon my part jshall be inviolable. 

Host And so swear I. [Embraces Dorset. 

K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou 
this league 
With thy embracements to my wife's allies. 
And make me happy in your unity. 

Buck, Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate 
Upon your grace [To the Qieeeit], but with all du- 
teous love 
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me 
With hate in those where I expect most love! 
When I have most need to employ a friend, 
And most assured that he is a friend, 
Deep» hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
Be he unto me! thb do I beg of heaven. 
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours. 

[Embracing Rivers, Sfc. 

K. Edw, A pleasing corchal, princely Buckingham^ 
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. 
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here. 
To make the blessed period of this peace. 

Bmck, And, in good time, here comes the noble 

Enter Gloster. 

Gh, Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and 
queen ; 
And, princely peers, a happy time of day ! 


K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the 
Brother, we have done deeds of charity; 
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate. 
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 

Crib. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.^ — 
Among this princely heap, if any here. 
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise. 
Hold me a foe ; 

If I unwittingly, or in my rage. 
Have aught committed that is hardly borne • 
By any in this presence, I desire 
To reconcile me to his friendly peace: 
Tis death to me, to be at enmity ; 
I hate it, and desire all good men's love. — 
First, madam, I entreat. true peace of you, 
Which I will purchase with my duteous service; — 
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us : — 
Of you. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, of you, — 
That all without desert have frown'd on me; — 
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen : indeed, of allt- 
I do not know that Englishman alive. 
With whom my soul is any jot at odds. 
More than the infant that is bom to-night ; 
I thank my God for my humility^. 

3 Milton, in his EIKONOK AASTES, has this observation :•— 
' The poets, and some English, have been in this point so mind- 
fal of decoram, as to pat never more pious words in the month 
of any person than of a tyrant. I shall not instance an abstruse 
author, wherein the king might be less conversant, but pne whooi 
we well know was the closet companion of these his solitudes, 
William Shakspeare; who introduced the person of Richard the 
Third, speaking in as high a strain of piety and mortification as 
is uttered in any passage in this bpok, and sometimes to the 
same sense and purpose with some words in this place. I in- 
tended (saith he), not only to oblige my friends, but my enemies. 
The like saith Richard : — 


Q. Eliz> A holy-day sdiaU this be kept hereafter :*-** 
I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.*^ 
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness 
To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 

Gh. Why, madam, have I offer'd loTe forthiii. 
To be so flouted in this royal presence? 
Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead? 

[I%ey all si^art. 
You do him injury to scorn his corse. 

K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead ! who knows 
he is ? 

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is tfaisf 

Buck. Look I so pale. Lord Dorset, as the rest? 

Dor. Ay ,my good lord ; and no man in the presence, 
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 

JT. Edw. Is Clarence dead ? the order was re- 

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died» 
And that a winged Mercury did bear; 
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand^, 
That came too lag to see him buried: — 
God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, 
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in bloody 

' I do not know that Englishman alive, 
With whom mj soul is anj jot at odds. 
More than the infant that is bom to-night; 
I thank my God for my humility/ 
Odier stuff of this mrt may be read throughout the tragedy, 
wherein the poet used not much licence in departing from the 
truth of history, which deliyers him a deep dissembler, not of 
his affectiotts ooJy, but his religion.' 

* This is an allusion to a proverbial expression which Dray- 
ton has versified in his Baron's Wars : — 

< 111 news hath wings, and with the wind doth go,. 
Comfort's a cripple, and comes ever slow.' 

Canto 11. Ed. 1619. 

* We have the same play on words in Macbeth : — 

* the near in blood 

The nearer bloody.' 



Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did. 
And yet go current from suspicion. 

Enter Stanley. 

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done ! 

K.Edw. £ pr'yl^ee, peace; my soul is full of 

Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. 

K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou re- 

iSfan.' The forfeit*, sovereign, of my servant's life; 
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman. 
Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk. 

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's 
death ^, 
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? 
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought. 
And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath, 
KneeFd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd^? 
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love? 
Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake 
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? 
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury, 
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, 

^ He means the remistion of the forfeit. 

' ' This lamentation is Terj tender and pathetic. The recol* 
lection of the good qualities of the dead is verj natnral, and no 
less ttAtaralljdoes the king endeavonr to oommnnicate the crime 
to others.' — Johnson. The hint for this pathetic speech is to be 
found in Sir Thomas More's History of Edward V. inserted in 
the Chronicles. 

"^ i. e. be circumspect, deliberate, or consider what I was 

' And bid me be advised how I tread.' 

King Henry VI. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 4^ 

Thus in the Paston Letters, vol. ii. p. 279 : — 

' Written in haste with short advisewteni.* 


And saidy Dear brother, live, and be a king ? 

Who told me, when we both lay in the field. 

Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 

Even in his gannents ; and did give himself. 

All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night? 

All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 

Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 

Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 

But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals, 

Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd 

The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon ; 

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you : — > 

But for my brother, not a man would speak, — 

Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself 

For him, poor soul. — ^The proudest of you all 

Have been beholden to him in his life ; 

Yet none of you would once plead for his life. — . 

O God ! I fear, thy justice will take hold 

On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this. — 

Come, Hastings, help me to my closet®. O, 

Poor Clarence! 

[ExeuTU King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers, 
Dorset, and Grey. 

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !-^Mark'd you 
How. that the guilty kindred of the queen 
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death T 
! they did urge it still unto the king : 
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go, 
To comfort Edward with our company ? 

Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt^ 

' Hastings was lord ohamberlain to King Edward IV. 


SC£N£ II. The same. 

Enter the Duchess o/* YorkS with a Son and 
Daughter of Clarence. 

San. Good grandam^ tell us, is our father dead ? 

Duch. No, boy. 

Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat your 
And cry — O Ciarence, my unhappy son! 

Son, Why do you look on us, and shake your head. 
And call us — orphans, wretches, cast-aways. 
If that our noble father be alive ? 

Duch. My pretty cousins^, you mistake me both; 
I do lament the sickness of the king, 
As loilth to lose him, not your father's death : 
It were lost sorrow, to wui one that's lost. 

Son.Then, grandam,you conclude that he is dead. 
The king my uncle is to blame for this : 
God will revenge it; whom I will imp6rtuiie 
With earnest prayers all to that effect. * 

Daugh. And so will I. 

Duch. Peace, children, peace ! the king doth love 
you well: 
Incapable ' and shallow innocents. 
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. 

San. Grandam, we can : for my good uncle Gloster 
Told me, the king, provok'd to'tnby the queen, 

^ Cecily, daaghter of Ralph Neyille, first earl of Westmore-' 
land, and widow of Richard duke of York, who was killed at the 
battle of Wakefield, 1460. She BurriTed her hasband thirtj- 
fiye years, liring till the year 1406. 

' The duchess is here addressing her grand-children; but 
coosin seems to have been nsed instead of our kinsman and kins- 
woman, and to hare supplied the place of both. 

* UntutupHbU. Thus in Hamlet: — 

' As one iimeapabU of her own distress.' 


Deyis*d impeachments to imprison him : 
And when my uhcle told me so, he wept; 
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; 
Bade me rely on.him, as on my father. 
And he would love me dearly as his child. 

Duck. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle ^ 
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! 
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame. 
Yet from my dugs^ he drew not this deceit. 

Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble^, gran- 

Ditch. Ay, boy. 

Son. I cannot liiink it Hark ! what noise is this ? 

Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly: Rivers, 
and Dorset, foUowing her. 

Q. EUz. Ah ! who shall hinder me to wail and weep ? 
To chide my fortune, and torment myself? ' 
111 join with black despair against my soul, 
And to myself become an enemy. 

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience ? 

Q. £^iz. To make an act of tragick violence : — - 
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. 
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone ? 
Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap? — . 
If you will live, lament ; if die,, be brief; 
That our swift-winged souls may catch the king'd ; 

* This word gave no offence to our ancestors ; one instance 
will show that it was used even in the most refined poetrj:-<^ 

' And on thy dugs the queen of love doth tell 
Her godhead's power in scrowles of my desire/ 

CoHttabies SonnetSf 1694. Dec. vi. Son. 4. 

' In the language of our elder writers, to ditaemble signified to 
feign or simulate, as well as to cloak or conceal feelings or dis- 
positions. Milton uses dUtembkr in this sense in the extract in 
a note on a former page. 


Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
To his new kingdom of perpetual r^st. 

Duck, Ah, so much interest have I in thy sonrow, 
As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
I have bewept a worthy husband's death. 
And liy'd by looking on his images^: 
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance 
Are crack'd in pieces by malignatft death; 
And I for comfort have but one false ^aas. 
That grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother. 
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee : 
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my amis. 
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, 
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have I 
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief), 
To overgo thy plaints, and drown thy cries I 

Son. Ah, aunt ! you wept not for our father's death ; 
How can we aid you with our kindred tears ? 

Daugh, Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd, 
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept I 

Q. EHz, Give me no help in lamentation, 
I am not barren to bring forth laments : 
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes. 
That I, being govem'd by the wat'ry moon. 
May sendJbrth plenteous tears to drown the world! 
Ah, for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward I 

Chil, Ah, for our father, for bur dear Lord Clarence! 

' The children bj whom he was repreMnted. Thus, in The 
Rape of Lncreoe, Lncretios sajs to his daughter : — 

* O, from thy cheeks my imagt thou hast torn.* 
In the same poem the succeeding image is also found :— 
' Poor broken glasa, I often did behold 
In thy sweet setnblance my old age new bom ; 
Bat now, that fresh iair mirror, dim and old» 
Shows me a bare-bon'd death by time outworn/ 
We bare something like it in Shakspeare's third Sonnet* 

.$C. II. KIN0 RICHARD Hi. 59 

DttcA. Alasy for both^ both mine, Edward and 
Clarence ! 

Q. EUz. What stay had I, but Edward? and 
he's gone. 

CkU, WhaX stay had we, but Clarence? and he's 

Duck. What stays had I, but they? and they 
are gone. 

Q. Eliz, Was never widow, had so dear a loss. 

ChiL Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. 

Dueh, Was never mother, had so dear a loss. 
Alas ! I am the mother of Uiese grie£s ; 
Their woes are parcelFd^, mine are general, 
j^e for an Edward weeps, and so do I; 
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she : 
Iliese babes for Clarence weep, and so do I: 
I for an Edward weep, so do not they : — 
Alas ! you three, on me, threefold distress'd. 
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurde. 
And I wUl pamper it with lamentations. 

Dcr. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis- 
That you take with unthankfulness his doing; 
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd — ungrateful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 
Much mme to be thus opposite with heaven, 
for it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

Rw. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother. 
Of the young prince your son : send straight for him. 
Let him be crown'd : in him your comfort lives : 
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave. 
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. 

7 Divided. 


Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, 
Hastings, Ratcliff, and Others. 

Glo. Sister, have comfort : all of us have cause 
To wail the dimming of our shinijag star; 
But Done can cure their harms by waiting them. — 
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy, 
I did not see your grace : — Humbly on my knee 
I crave your blessing. 
.Duck. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy 
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty ! 

Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old man ! — 
That is the. butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside, 
I marvel, that her grace did leave it out. 

Buck, You cloudy princes, and heart sorrowing 
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan. 
Now cheer each other in each other's love : 
Though we. have spent our harvest of this king, 
-We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts. 
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together. 
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept : 
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train. 
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd® 
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. 

Riv, Why with some little train> my lord of Buck- 
ingham ? 

^ Edward, the joang prince, in his father's lifetime, and -at 
his demise, kept his household at JLudlow, as prince of Wales ; 
vnder the governance of Anthony Woodville, earl of Rirers, his 
ancle hj the mother's side. The intention of his being sent 
thither was to see justice done in the Marches ; and, bj the aa> 
thprity of his presence, to restrain the Welshmen, who were 
wild, dissolute, and ill disposed, from their accustomed murders 
and outrages. — Vide HoUnshed, 


Buck^ Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude. 
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out ; 
Which would be so much the more dangerous, 
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungo- 

vem'd : 
Where «yery horse beara his commanding rein. 
And may direct his course as please himself. 
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent. 
In my -opinion, ought to be preyented. 

Glo* I hope, the king made peace with all of us; 
And the compact is firm, and true, in me. 

Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in alP: 
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put - 
To no apparent hkelihood of breach. 
Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd : 
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, 
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. 

Hast. And so say I. 

Glo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. 
Madam, and you my mother, — will you go 
To give your censures ^^ in this weighty business? 
[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloster. 

Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince, 
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home: 
For, by the way, I'll sort occasioin. 
As index ^^ to the story we late talk'd of. 
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince. 

Gh. My other self, my counsel's consistory^ 

* This speech seems rather to belong to Hastings, who was of 
the duke of Gloster's party. The next speech might be given to 

<^ i. e. your judgments, your opinions. 

1* That is preparatory, by way otprehde. Thus in Othello: — 
* -, — an mdex and obscure prologue to the history of lost and fool 
tboaghts.' — ^Vide i^ote on Hamlet, A«t ii|. Sc. 4^ 

VOL. VII. <^ 


My oracle^ my prophet! — My dear cou8m> 
I, as a cluldy wUl go by thy direction. 
Towards Ludlow ^en, for we'll not stay behind. 


SCENE III. The 9mme, A Street. 

Enter two Citizens, meeting. 

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither away 

so fast? 

2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself: 
Hear you the news abroad? 

1 Cit. Yes ; the king's dead. 

2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the 

I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. 

Ekter another Citizen. 

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed ! 

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, sir. 
3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Ed- 
ward's death? 

2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the while ! 

3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous wcurld. 

1 Cit. No, no; by God's good grace, his son 

shall reign. 
3 Cit. Woe to that land, that's govem'd by a child * ! 

2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government; 

^ A> ancient prvverbUl sajing, aotioed in The Engliah Cour- 
tier and Country Gentlemen, 4to. blk 1. 1686, sign. B : * ^— as 
the proverbe sajth teldome cow»e the better. Val. That proverb 
indeed is anncient, and for the most part true.' I find it in Hor- 
manni Vulgaria, 1619, thus : — ^ Selde comeih the better. Raro 
saccedere meliorem.' Mr. Donee has adduced a more ancient 
citation of it. 

* * Woe to thee, O land, when thj king is a ehild.' 

EtxJeaiasi. c. x. 
Shakspeare found it cited in the dnke of Buckingham's speech 
to the citizens in More's Richard III. 


That, in bis nonage ^^ council undeor him, 

And, in fais fnll and ripen'd years, himself. 

No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 

1 Cit. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth 
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 

3 Cit. Stood Ihe state so ? no, no, good friends, 
God wot; 
for then this land was famously enrich'd 
With politick grave counsel ; then the king 
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 

1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and 

3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father; 
Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
For emulation now, who shall be nearest, 
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. 
O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster; 
And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and 

proud : 
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule. 
This sickly land might solace as before. 

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst : all will be 

3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on 
their cloaks ; 
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; 
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? 
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth : 
All may be well ; but, if God sort it so, 
Tis more than we deserve, or I expect 

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are fuU of fear : 
ITou cannot reason^ almost with a man 

That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 

' W« may hope well of his goTernment under all cironmatancea ; 
we maj hope thiaof hia oonncil while he ia in hia nonage, and of 
himaelf in bis riper jeara. 

* 8ctt note 14, p. 44. 


ZCit. Before the days of change; still is it so: 
By a divine insdnct, men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see 
The water swell before a boist'rous storm ^. 
But leave it.all to God. Whither away? 

2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. 

3 Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company. 



The same. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of 
York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess 
of York. 

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony- 
Stratford ; 
And at Northampton they do rest to-night^ : 
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 

Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince; 
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him. 

Q. Eliz. But I hear, no ; they say, my son of York 
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. 

York. Ay, mother^ but I would not have it so. 

Jhtjch. Why, my young cousin ? it is good to grow. . 

' ' Before 8ach ^eat things, men's hearts of a secret instinct 
of nature misgive them; as the sea without wind swelleth of 
himself some time before a tempest.'-— i^rom More^t Richard III • 
copied hy HoUnshed, III. 721 . 

' This is the reading of the folio. The qnarto of 1597, reads : — 
' Last night I hear they lay at Northampton: 
At Stony- Stratford will they be to-night.' 

By neither reading can the truth of history be preserred. Ac- 
cording to the reading of the quarto the scene would be on the 
day on which the king was journeying from Northampton to Strat- 
ford ; and of course the messenger's account of the peers being 
seized, &c. which happened on the next day after the king had 
lain at Stratford, is inaccurate. If the folio reading be adopted. 


York. Gnmdaiiiy one night, as we did sit at supper. 
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow 
More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster, 
SmaU kerbs have grace, great weed* do grow apace: 
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, 
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make 
' haste. 

Dnck. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not 
In him that did object the same to thee : 
He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young: 
So long a growing, and so leisurely. 
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. 

Arch, And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam. 

Duck. I hope, he is,; but yet let mothers doubt. 

York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remem- 
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout. 
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine. 

Duck, How, my young York? I preythee, let 
me hear it 

Ycrk. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast. 
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old; 
Twas full two years ere I cotdd get a tooth. 
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest 

the scene is indeed placed on the daj on which the king was 
seized 'y bat the archbishop is supposed to be apprized of a fact 
which, before the entry of the messebger, he manifestlj does not 
know; namely, the doke of Gloster's coming to Stratford the 
morning after the king had lain there, taking him forcibly back 
to NorUiampton, and seizing the Lords Rirers, vGrey, &o. The 
truth is, that the qneen herself the person most materially inter- 
ested in the welfare o^ her son, did not hear of the king's being 
earried back from l^tony-Stratfurd to Northampton till abont 
midnight of the day on which this violence was offered to him by 
his nnde. See jEFoU, Edward Y. fol. 6. Malone thinks this an 
ananswerable argument in fayonr of the reading of the quarto ; 
while SteeTcns thinks it a matter of indifference, but prefers the 
text of the folio copy on acooiuit of the Tersification. 



Bw^: I pr'ythee, pretty York^ who told thee this ? 

York. Grandam, his nurse. 

Duck. His nurse? why, she was dead ere thou 

wast bom. 
York, If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. 
QjEliz. A parlous^ boy: Go. to, you are too 

Arch. Good madaim, be not angry with the child. 
Q. Eliz, Pitohers have ears. 

£n^er a Messenger. . 

Arch. Here comes a messenger : 

What news? 

Mess. Such news, my lord, . 

As grieves me to unfold. . 

Q. . Eliz. How doth the prince ? 

Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 

Duch. What is thy news ? 

Mess. Lord Rivers, ■ and Lord Grey, are sent to 
With them Sir Thomas Yaughan, prisoners. 

Diich. Who hath committed them ? . 

Mess. The mighty dukes, 

Gloster and Buckingham. 

Q.Eliz. For what offence? 

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd ; 
Why, or for what, the nobles were committed. 
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. 

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house ! 
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; 
Insulting tyranny begins to jut ^ 

' Parhiti is a popular cormption of perilous ; 'jocalarlj used 
foi* iOarming, amazing. 

' The quarto reads to jet, which Mr. Boswell thought pre- 
ferable ; but the folio is right. * To jut upon the throne' is 
to make inroads or invasions apon it. See Cooper's Dictionary, 
1584, in voce incurso. Awless is not producing awe, not re- 


Upon the innocent and awless throne: — 
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre ! 
I see, as in a map, the end of all. 

Duck, Accursed and unquiet wrangling days ! 
How many of you have mine eyes beheld ? 
My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
And often up. and down my sons were tost, ^ 

For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss; 
And being seated, and domestic broils 
Clean over blown, themselves, the conquerors, 
JViake war upon themselves ; brother to brother. 
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self: — O, preposterous 
And frantick courage, end thy damned spleen; 
Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 

Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanc- 
tuary. •?— 
Madam, farewell. 

Duck, Stay, I will go with you. 

Q. Eliz, You have no cause. 

Arch. My gracious lady, go. 

[To ^A6 Queen. 
And thither bear your treasure and your goods. ' 
For my part,' I'll resign unto your grace 
The seal I keep^; And so betide to me. 
As wfell I tender you, and all of yours ! 
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt. 

* Afterwards, however, this obseqaiou archbishop [Rotheram] 
to ingratiate himself with Richard III. pnt his majesty's badge, 
the Hog, upon the gate of the Public Librarj at Cambridge. 



SCENE I. London. A Street. 

The Trumpets sound. Enter the Prince ofWales, 
Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bour- 
CHiER^, and Others. 

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London^ to 

your chamber^. 
Glo^ Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove- 
The weary way hath made you melancholy. 

Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way 
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy : 
I want more uncles here to welcome me. 

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your 
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit: 
*N'o more can you distinguish of a man. 
Than of his outward show ; which, God he knows. 
Seldom, or never, jumpeth' with the heart. 
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous ; 

* Thomas Bonrchier was made a oardinal, and eleotad Arcl»> 
bbhop of Canterbury in 1464. He died in 1486. 

' London was aneientlj called Camera Regis. See Coke's 
Institntes, 4. 243 ; Camden's Britannia, S74 ; and Ben Jooson's 
Entertainment to King James, passing to his Coronation. Lon- 
don is called the king's special chamhiar in the dnke of Buckings 
ham's oration to the citizens (apnd More), which Shakspeare 
has taken other phrases from. 

' To jump wiUi is to agree with, to tuii, or correspond with. 
Thns in King Henry IV. Part I. :— ' Well, Hal, well ; and in 
some sort it jumps with mj homoor, as well as waiting in the 
court, I can tell yon.' 

' Wert thou my friend, thy mind ironldjun^ with mine.' 

Solynum and Perseda, 


Your grace' attended to their sugar'd' words, 
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
God keep you from them, and from such false friends ! 
Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but they 

were none. 
Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to 
greet you. . 

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train, 

May. God bless your grace with health and 

happy days ! 
Prince. I thank you^ good my l6rd ; — ^and thank 
you all. — [Exeunt MB,yory Sfc. 

I thought, my mother, and my brother* York, 
Would long ere this have met us on the way : 
Fye, what a 'slug is Hastings ! that he comes not 
To tell us whether they would come, or no. 

Enter Hastings. 

Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweat- 
ing lord. 

Prince. Welcome, my lord : What, will our mo- 
ther come ? 

Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, 
The queen your mother, and your brother York, 
Haye taken sanctuary : The tender prince 
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace. 
But by his mother was perforce withheld. 

JBuck. Fye ! what an indirect and peevish course 
Is this of hers?— Lord cardinal, will your grace 
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York 
Unto his princely brother presently? 
If she deny, — Lord Hastings, go with him. 
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. 

Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak ora- 


Can from his modier win the duke of York> 
Anon expect him here : But if she be obdurate 
To mild entreaties, God ia heaven forbid 
We should infringe the hoiy privilege 
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land. 
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. 

Biijck. You are too senseless-obstinatey my lord. 
Too ceremonious, and traditional^: 
Weigh it but with the grossness^ of this age. 
You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
The benefit thereof is always granted 
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place. 
And those who have the wit to claim the place : 
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it; 
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it : 
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there. 
You break no privilege nor charter there. 
Oft have I heard of sa,nctuary men ; 
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now^. 

Card. My lord, you shall overrule my mind for 
once. — 
Come on. Lord Hastings, will you go with me? 

Hast, I go, my lord. 

Prmoe, Good lords, make all the speedy haste 
you may. [Exeunt Cardinal and Hast. 

* Ceremonious for svperstiiious ; traditional for adherent to «U 

* Grossness here raeang jdamness, eimpKeity, Warbnrton, not 
uoderstandiiig the word, would have changed it. Johafton has 
misinterpreted it ; and Malone, though he defends the reading^, 
leaves it unexplained. 

^ This argument is from More's History, as printed in the 
Chronicles, where it is very much enlarged upon. ' Verelye I 
have often heard of saintuarye men, but I never heard erste of 
saintwirye chyldren * * *. Bat he can he no saintuarye manney 
that neither hath wisedone to desire it, nor malice to deserre it, 
whose lyfe or libertye can by no lawfoll prooesse stand in jeo- 
pardie. And he that taketh one oute of saintuary to dooe hym 
good, I saye plainely that he breaketh no saintuary.' — lfor«'» 
History ofKinge Richard the Thirde, Edit. 1821, p. 48. 


Say, uncle Glostery i£ wxr brother oaBe, 
Where shall we sojonni till our coronation? 

Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. 
If I may counsel you, some day, or two. 
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: 
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit 
For your best health and recreation. 

Prince. I do not fike the Tower, of any place : — 
Did Julius Ciaesav build that place, my lord? 

Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; 
Which, since, succee^g ages haye re-edified. 

Prince. Is it upon record? or else reported 
Successively from age to age he built it? 

Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 

Prince. But say, my lord, it were not registered; 
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age, 
As 'twere retail'd''' to ail posterity, 
Eren to the general all-ending day. 

Ohy. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live 
long^. [Aside. 

Prince. What say you, uncle? 

6io. I say, without characters, fame lives long. 
Thus, like the formal^ vice. Iniquity, ) Aai^L* 
I moralize two meanings in one word. ^ 

^ i. e. recounted. MinBhea, ib his Dictiooarj, 1617, besides 
the verb rsfot/, in the mercantile sense, has the verb to retaile ov 
refeflL 6. renomhrery a Lat. renomerare : and in that sense it 
appears to be employed here. Richard uses the word again in 
the fonrth aot, where, speaking to the queen of her danghter, he 
sajs:— » 

' To whom I will retaU tny conquests won.' 

* ' I hiLTe knowne children languishing of the splene, ob« 
stmcrted and altered in temper, talke with gravitj and wisdome 
Mirpa«sing those tender years, and their judgments carrying a 
marvellons imitation of the wisdome of the ancient, having after 
a sorte attained that by disease which other have by coarse of 
yeares ; whereon I take it the proverbe ariseth, that they be cf 
Miorie Ufe vaba are ef wit so pregnant.' '■^Brigiht^s Treatue of Me- 
lanehobf, 1586, p. 52. 

* For an account of the vice in old plays, see note on Twelfth 


Prince. That Julius Caesar w%s a famous man ; 
With what his valour did enrich his wit, 
His wit set down to make his valour live. 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
For now he lives .in fame, though not in life. — ^ 
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. 

Buck, What, my gracious lord ? 

Prince. An if I live until I be a man, . 
I'll win our ancient right in France again. 
Or die .a soldier, as I liv'd a king. 

Glo. Short summers lightly ^^ have .a forward 
spring. [Aside. 

Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinal. 

Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke 

of York. 
Prince. Richard of York ! how fares our loving 

brother ? 

Night, Act iv. So< 2. ' He appears (sajs Mr. Giflford) to have 
been a perfect coanterpart of the harlequin of the modern stage, 
and had a two-fold oflSce, — to instigate the hero of the piece to 
wickedness, and, at the same time, to protect him from the deril, 
^hom he was permitted to buffet and baffle .with his. wooden 
sword, till the process of the storj required that both the pro- 
tector and the protected should be carried off bjr the fiend, or 
the latter driven roaring from the stage by some miracnlons in- 
terposition in favour of the repentant offender/ Iniquity the 
Vice is dne of the characters in Ben Jonson's Devil is an Ass. 
Shakspeare has again used moraUze as a verb active in his Rape 
of Lucrece : — 

' Nor could she moraUze his wanton sigfht, 
More than his ejes were open to the light.' 
In which passage it means ' to inteqiret or investigate the latent 
meaning of his wanton looks,' as in the present passage it signi- 
fies to extract the doable and latent meaning of one word or 
sentence. Moral, for secret meaning, will be found in Much Ado 
about Nothing, AotiiL Sc. 4. llie word which Richard uses in 
a double sense is live, which in his former speech he had used 
literally, and in the present metaphorically. The formtd yioe 
means the regular or aeeuatomed vice. 

- ^ * Short summers eommonlg have a forward spring.' So in 
an old proverb preserved by Ray : — 

* There's lightning liglflly before thunder.* 


York. Well^my dre^d lord ; so I must^call you now. 

Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours : 
Too late^^ he died, that might have kept that title. 
Which by l\is death hath lost much majesty. 

Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? 

York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord. 
You said that idle wieeds are fast in growth: 
The prince my brother hath outgrown. me far. 
. Glo. He hath, my lord. 

York. ^ And therefore is he idle? 

Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say jso. 

York, Th(^n is he more. beholden to you, than I. 

Glo; He may command me, as my sovereign ; 
But you have power in .me, as in a kinsman. 

York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. 

Glo. My dagger, little .cousin? with all my heart. 

Prince. A beggar, brother ? 

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give ; 
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 

Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. 

York. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it ? 

Glo., Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 

York. O then, I Bee, you'll partbut with light gifts : 
In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay. . 
. Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. 

York. I weigh it lightiy, .were it heavier ^^. 

Glo. What, would you have my weapon, little lord ? 

York. I would, )bhat I might thank you as you 
call .me. 

Glo. How? 

York. Little. 


" Jiately. 

'^ This taunting answer of the prince has been misinterpreted : 
he means to say, ' I hold it cheap, or care bnt little for it, even 
^rere it heavier than it is/ Thns in Love's Labour's Lost, Act v. 

' Yon w^h me not,-~0, that's yon care not for me. 


74 KING RI€HARI> HI. ACT 111. 

Prince, My lord of Tork ^1 stiU be cross in 
Uncle, your grace knows kow to bear with bin. 

ForA. You »ean, to bearnoyttot to bear with me: — 
Uncle, my brother mocks bedi you and mo; 
Because tiiat I am^ little, tte aa i^, 
He thinks that you shoiM bear me on yomr Moul- 
ders ^^ 

Buck, With what a sharp^provided wit he reascms ! 
To Buti^ate Ike scorn he gives his uncle. 
He prettUy and apdy taunts himself: 
So cunmng, and so young, is wonderfuk 

Gh, My gracious k>rd, wiil't please you pass along ? 
Myself, imd my good cousin Suekingham, 
Will to your mother ; tO' entreat of her, 
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 

York. What, will you go untold Tower, my lord? 

Prince, My lord protector needs will have it so. 

York* I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 

G4b^ Why, sir, what should you fearf 

York, Marry, my uncle Clarence^ a^iy ghost; 
My grandam told me, he was murd«r'd there. 

Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 

Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. 

Prince, An if they live, I hope, I need not fear. 
But come, my lord, and, wift a heavy heart. 
Thinking on tiiem, go I unto the Tower. 

[Exewnt Prmce, York, Hastings, Car- 
dinal, and Attendants. 

Buck. Think you, my lord, this little pratmgTork 

^' York allades to the protaberance on Gloster's back, which 
was commodious for carrying burdens. Thns in Ulpiaa Folwell's 
Ars Adalandi, 1576 : — ' Thou hast an exeetlent hatk to earrj- 
mj lord's ape.' The same thought ecoiirs to Riokard IrimBelf 
in KiBg Henry VI. Part in. Act iii. :— ^ 

* To make an enirions mountain on my back, 
Where sits deformity to mock my body^' 


Was not inoeiised^^ by his subde moliiery 
To taunt imd scorn yov tbus opprobriously? 

^lo* No doubt, no doubt: O, ^tis a parlous boy; 
Bold^ quick, ingenious, forward, capable ^^; 
He's all the mother's^ from the top to toe. 

BucL Well, Icit them rest. — 
Come hi&er, gentle Catesby ; tbou art sworn 
As deeply to effect what we intend. 
As closely to conceal what we impart: 
Thou knoVst our reasoim urg'd upon the way ; — 
What think'st thou ? is it not aa easy matter 
To make WiHiam Lord Hastings <tf our mind. 
For the instalment of thb noble duke 
In the seat royal ot <his famous isle? 

Cote, He for his father's sake so loves <lie prince. 
That he will not be won to aught against him. 
Buck, What think'st thou then of Stanley? will 

not he? 
Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
Buck, Well then, no more but this : Go, gentle 
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings, 
How he doth stand affected to our purpose; 
And siuMBon him to-morrow to the Tower, 
To ait about the coronation. 
If thou dost find him tractable to us, 
£ncourage him* and tell him dl our reasons: 
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling. 
Be thou so too; and so break off the talk. 
And give us notice of Ins inctmation : 

^ i.«. incited, ingtigated. So in Bfadi Ado about Kothing, 
Borachio rajs to Don Pedro, * How Don John yomr brother m- 
ceiued me to slander the ladj Hero.' * Sfttvadatrix, the that 
mooveth or incetuelh/'^Hvtton's Diet. 1563. 

** CaptiblB 18 qnick of apprehension, sasceptftle, intelligent. 
Tfavs in Troilns and €re88ida '.-r* I^et me carry another to his 
horse, for that's the more capdbU creature/ 


For we to-morrow hold divided*® counicils, 
Wherein thyself shdt highly be employ'd. 

Glo. Commend me to Lord William: teU him, 
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle ; 
And bid my friend, for joy of this good news. 
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business 

Cote. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. 
Glo. Shall we hearfrom you, Catesby, ere we sleep? 
Cate, You shall, my lord. 
Glo. At Crosby-place, there shall you find us 
both. . [Exit Catesby. 

Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we 
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ? 
Glo. ' Chop off his head, man ; — somewhat we 
will do: — 
And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables 
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd. 

Buxk. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand. 
Gh. And look to have it yielded with all kindness^ 
Come, let us sup betimes; that afterwards 
We may digest our complots in some form. 


i< < Bat the protectonre and the dnke after they had sent to 
the lord cardinal, the Lord Stanley, and the Lord Hastings, then 
lord cbamberlaine, with many other noblemen, to commune and 
devise abont the coronation m one j)2ace, as fast were they in 
ottof Aer j)2ar«, contriving the eontrarie to make the protectonre 
king/ The Lord Stanley, that was after earle of Darby, wisely 
mistrusted it, and said onto the Lord Hastings that he mnch mis- 
lyked tAese Uoo aeveral eouncets. — HoUtuked, from Sir T.More. 


SCENE II \ Before Lord Hastings' Hmue. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Men, My lovd, mj loord, — [Knocking. 

Hmt. [WUhin.] Wko knocks? 

Mess. One from Lord Stanley. 

Hast. [IFtMm.] What b't o'clock? 

MesSk Upon the stroke of four. 

Enter Hastings. 

Haft. Cfwiiot Ihy aiaster sleep diese tedious nights ? 

Jfte. So it should iseem by tbftt I have to say. 
First, he commends him to yo«r noUe loidsfaip. 

Hast. And then, — 

Mess. And then he semk you word, he dreamt ^ 
To-night the boar had rased ^ oS his behn : 
Besides, he says, tiliere are two councils held; 
And that may be determin'd at the one, 
Which may make you and him to roe at the other* 
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's plea- 
sure,^ — 
If presently, you will take horse with him^ 
And with all speed post with him toward the north, 
To shun the danger that his soul divines. 

Hiut. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; 
Bid bim not feiM^ the separated councils : 

^ Ereiy material circnmstance in this scene is from Hollfi' 
shed, except that it is a inight with whom Hastings conyerses 
instead of Btukuigham, 

' This term, rased or rashedf is always given to describe the 
▼iolence inflicted by a boar* Thns in King Lear, 4to« ed.: — 

' In his anointed flesh rash boarish fangs.' 
And in Warner's Albion's England, vii. c* 36 : — 

' ha, cor avaant, the^bore so rase thy hide.' 

By the boar^ thpooghoat this soene, is meant Glostfir, in allusion 
to his crest. 



Hb hdbour'y and my self , are at the one; 
And» at the other, is my good friend Catesby ; 
Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth as. 
Whereof I shall not haye intelligence. 
Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance^ : 
And for his dreams-^ — I wonder, he's so fond^ 
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers : 
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues. 
Were to incense the boar to follow us, '' 
And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase. 
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ; 
And we will both together to the Tower^ 
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. 
Mess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say. 

Eater Catesby. 

Cate, Many good morrows to my noble lord! 
Hast, Good morrow, Catesby; you are early 
, stirring : 
What' news, what news, in this our tottering state ? 

Cate, It is a reeling world,' indeed, my lord; 
And, I believe, will never stand upright. 
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 

Hast, How ! wear the garland? dost thou mean 

the crown? 
Cate. Ay, my good lord. 

Hast. I'll have this crown of mine cut firom my 
Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd. 
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ? 

' This was the usual address to noblemen in Shakspeare's 
time ] it was indifferently used with your lordship. See anj old 
letter or dedication of that age. 

^ InttancB is here put for mottoe, cause. Thus in Hamlet : — 
' The instances that second marriage move 
Are base respects of thrift> but none'6f love.' 
» Weak, sillj. 


Cote. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you for- 
IJpon his party, for the gain thereof: 
And, thereupon, he senjls you this good news, — 
That, this same yery day, your enemies. 
The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 

Host Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, * 
Because they haye been still my adyersaries : 
But, that I'll giye my yoice on Richard's side, 
To bar my master's heirs in true descent, 
God knows, I will not do it, to the death. 
Cate, God keep your lordship in that gracious 

Hast, But I shall laugh at this a twelyemonth 
That they, who brought me ita my master's hate, 
I liye to look upon their tragedy. 
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
111 send some packing, that yet think not on't 

Cate, Tis a yile thing to <&e, my gracious lord. 
When men are unprepar'd, and look not for it. 

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls it out 
With Riyers, Vaughan, Grey : and so 'twill do ^ 
With some men else, who think themselyes as safe 
As Ihou, and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
To princely Richard, and to Buckingham. 

Cate. The princes both make high account of you. 
For they account his head upon the bridge. [Aside. 
Hast. I know, they do; and I haye well de- 
scry 'd it. 

Enter Stanley. 

Come on, come on, where is your boar-sp^ar, man? 
Fear you the boar, and go so unproyided ? 

Sian. My lord, good morrow ; and good morrow, 
Catesby: — 


You may jest on, but» by the holy rood^» 
I do not like these several councils^ I. 

Mast, My lord, I hoU my life as dear a» yon do 
And never, « my life, I do .protest. 
Was it more precioas to me than His now : 
Thiiric you, bat that I know our staite secure;, 
I would be so tnumphant as I am? 

Stan, The lords at Pom&et, when they rode from 
Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sare^ 
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistnist; 
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast. 
This sudden stab of sancbnr I misdoubt^ ; 
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward! 
What, shaMwc toward the Tower? the day is spenft. 

Hagt. Come, come, have with you. — ^Wot^ you 
what, my lord? 
To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded. 

Stan. They, £or ibeir truth, might better wear 
their heads. 
Than some, that have accus'd them^ wear their hats. 
But come, my lord, let's away. 

Enier a Pursuivant 

Hatt. Go on before. 111 talk with this good fel- 
low. [Exeuni Stan, and Catbsby. 
How now, sirrah? how goes the world with thee ? 

Pun* The bett^, that your lordship please to ask. 

Hast. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now^ 
Than when thou met'st me last where now we meet : 
Then I was going prisoner to the Tower, 

* Cross. 

7 i.e.8iispsotitofd«iger. Thnsio KingHeiirj VI. Part lU.:'^ 

; the bird 

With trembling wings wusdouhUtk everj bush.' 
' Know. 


By the suggestion of the queen's allies ; 
Bat now I tell thee (keep it to thyself), 
This day those enemies are put to deatii/ 
And I in better state than ere I was. 
Pun. God hold it^, to your honour's good con- 
Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink thajtfor me. 

[ Throwing him his purse. 
Purs. I thank your honour. [Exit Pursuivant. 


Enter a Priest. 

Pr. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see your 

Hast. I thank thee, good Sir John^^, with aU my 
I am in your debt for your last exercise ^^ ; 
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. 

-Ett^er Buckingham**. 

Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord chamber- 
lain ? 
Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest ; 
Your honour hath no shriving*^ work in hand. 

Hast. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man. 
The men you talk of came into my mind. 
What, go you toward the Tower? 

^ Thfit 18 eontmue it. 

'* See note 1 on the first scene of The Merry Wiyes of Windsor. 

^' Exercise probably means reUgious exhortation or lecture. 
Thiu in Othello : — 

' Much oastigation exerdte deyont.' 
If From the continuation of Harding's Chronicle, 1543, where 
the account given originally by Sir Thomas More is transcribed 
with some additions, it appears that the person who held this 
oonTersation with Hastings was Sir Thomas Howard, who is in- 
troduced in the last act of this play as earl of Surrey. 

** Confession. 


Buck, I do, my lord; but long I casBot staytliere : 
I shall return before your lordship thoice. 
Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dkner there. 
Buck. And supper too, dkhoo^ fthon knoVit it 
not [Aside. 

Come, will you go? 
Hast* m wait upon your lordship. 


SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle. 

Enter R atcliff, witk a guard, conducting Rivers, 
Grey ^, and Vaughan, to Execution. 

Bat. Come, bring forth the prisoners. 

Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this, — 
To-day, 43halt thou behold a subject die. 
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. 

Grey. God keep the prince from all the pack of you ! 
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers. 

Vaugk. You live, that shall ciy woe for this here- 

Mai. Despatch; the linut^ of your lives is <mt. 

Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prisoB, 
Eatal and ominous to noble peers ! 
Within the guilty closure of thy walls, 
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death: 
And, for more, slander to thy dismal seat. 
We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink, 

* <^een Elizabeth Grey is deservedly pitied for the loss of ber 
two sons ; but the royclty of ^eir birth ims vo engrossed tbe 
attention of historians, that they never reokon into the onmber otf 
her misfortnnes the nmrder 4ft this tier Moond son, Sir Riehard 
Grej* It is remarkable how slightiy the death of Eaii RiTera is 
always mentioned, though a man invested with snch high offioes 
of tmst and dignity ; and how vatch we dwell on the exeentioB 
of the lord chamberlain Hastings, a man in every lifkt his iiil»> 
nor. In tnith» the generality dncw Htmr ideas ofBnglish story 
from tbe tragic rather than the historic anthors. — TFo^iofe. 

» The UmU for the Smiied tm§. 


Qre^. Now Margaret's cvarae ia faUen* upon our 
When she exclaim'd on Hastittgs, yoiit, and I,. 
For standing- by when Richard stabbed her son. 
Riv. Then curs'd she Hastings^ then curs'd she 
Then curs'd she Richard: — O, remember^ God, 
To hear hev prayers for them, as now for us ! 
And for my sister, and her princely sons^— «> 
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods. 
Which, as Hiou know'st,^ unjustly must be spilt !* 
Rat. Make haste, the hour of death is expiated 
J2tv. Come, Grey,— come, Yaughan, — ^let us 
here embrace : 
Farewell, until we meet again im heaven. [Exmrnt, 

SCENE lY . London. A ^nm in the Tower. 

BucKiN&HAiM^, Stanley, Hastings, the Bishop 
©/"ElyS Catesby, Lovel, and Others^ sitting 
at a Table : Officers cftke Cotmdl attending. 

Skui. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met 
I»— to determine of the coronation : 
In God's name> speak, when is the royal day? 

* We have this word in the same sense again in IShakspeare's 
tweitty'«econd Sonnet: — 

' Then look I death mj days should expitUe* 
I camot bni think with Staeyens that It is- an erroc of ,th« press 
for expiraU. Thus in Romeo and Juliet: — 

* and expire the term 

Of a despised life.' 

' Dr. John Morton, who was elected to the see of Ely in 1478. 
He was adranced to the see of Canterbury in 1486» and wpointed 
lord chancellor in 14^. He died in the year ISOO. This pre- 
late first derised the scheme of patting an end to the long con- 
tests between the honses of York and Lancaster, by a marriage 
between Henry earl of Richmond, and Elizabeth, the eldest 
daaghter of Edward IV.; and was aprincipsl agent in proonring 
Henry, when abroad, to enter into a coTeaant for the pnrpose.^- 
See More*M Xt/e of BUkardUi. 

^ I 


. Bwjt, Are all things ready for that royal time? 
Stan, They are; and wants but nomination^. 
Ely, To-morrow then I judge a happy day. 
Btuik, Who knows die lord protector's mind herein? 
Wlio is most inward^ with the noble duke ? . 
Ely, Your grace, we think, should soonest know 

his mind. 
Btu:k, We know each other's faces; for our 
hearts, — 
He knows no more of mine, jthan I of yours; 
Nor I, of his, my lord, than you of mine: 
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. . 
. HdLst, I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; 
But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd 
His gracious pleasure any way therein : 
But you, my noble lord, may name the time; 
And in the duke's behalf 111 give my voice, 
Whieli^ I presume, hell take in gentie part. 


JEly.Jn happy time, here comes the dnke himself. 

Glo, My noble Jords and cousins, all, goodmorrow: 
I have been long ^ sleeper; but, I trust. 
My absence doth neglect no great design. 
Which by my presence might have been concluded* 

Buck, Had you not come upon your cue^, my lord, 
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'dyour part,— ^ 
I mean, your voice,— for crowning of the king. ' 

Glo, Than my Lord Hastings, no man might be 
His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. — 

? The only thin^ wanting is appointment of fi particolar day 
for the ceremony. 

^ Intimate, confidential. So in. Measure for Measure : — 
, ' Sir, J was an imoard of his.' 

^ See note on Hamlet, Act ii. So. 2. 


My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, 
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ^; 
I do beseech you, send for some of them. 

Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. 

[Exit Ely. 

Glo, Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. 

[ Takes him aside, 
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ; 
And finds the testy gentleman so hot. 
That he will lose his head, ere give consent, 
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, 
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. 

JBmc^. Withdraw yourself awhile. 111 go with you. 
[Exeunt Gloster and Buckingham. 

Stan, We have not yet set down this day of triumph. 
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden ; 
For I myself am not so well provided. 
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. 

Re-enter Bishop of Ely. 

Ely. Where is my lord protector? I have sent 
For these strawberries. 
jffast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this 
morning ; 

* This circmnstance of asking the hishop for some of his 
strawberries seems to have been mentioned by the old historians 
merely to show the unnsoal aflfahility and good humour which 
the dissembling Gloster affected at the very time he had deter- 
mined on the death of Hastings. It originates with Sir Thomas 
More» who mentions the protector's entrance to the council 
* fyrste about ix of the clocke, saluting them cnrtesly, and ex- 
casing himself that he had ben from them so long, saieng merify 
that he had bene a slepe that day. And aft^r a little talking 
with them he said unto the bishop of Elye, my lord, you have rery 
good strawberries at your gardayne in Holbeme, I require you 
let as hare a messe of them.' It is remarkable that this bishop 
(Morton) is supposed to have furnished Sir Thomas More with 
the materials of his history, if he was not the original author of 
it See Preface to Morels Life of Richard III. ed. 1821. 



There's some conceit or other likes him well, 
When he doth bid good morrow with such spirit. 
I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom, 
Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he; 
For by his face straight shall you know his heart. 

Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his face, 
By any likelihood^ he show'd to-day? 

Hast. MaiTy , that with no man here he is offended ; 
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. 

Re-enter Gloster and Buckingham. 

Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve 
That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevail'd 
Upon my body with their hellish charms ? 

Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my Icurd; 
Makes me most forward in this noble presence 
To doom the offenders : Whosoe'er they be, 
I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 

Gh). Then be your eyes the witness of their evil, 
Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm 
Is> like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : 
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch. 
Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, 
That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 

Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble 
lord, — 

Glo. If! thou protector of this damned strumpet, 
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? — Thou art a traitor : — 
Off with his head : now, by Saint Paul, I swear, . 
I will not dine until I see the same. — 
Lovel, and Catesby, look, that it be done ; 
The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. 

[Exeunt Council, with Glo. and Buck. 

^ i. e. semblance, appearance. Tbns in Othello :— 

' thin habits, and poor Ukelikoods of modern seeming.' 


Hast. Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit for me ; 
For I, too fond, might have prevented this : 
Stanley did dream, the boar did rase his helm ; 
But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly. 
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble^. 
And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. 
O, now I want the priest that spake to me : 
I now repent I told the pursuivant. 
As too triumphing, how mine enemies. 
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd. 
And I myself secure in grace and favour. 
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. 

Cate, Despatch, my lord, the duke would be at 
Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head. 

Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men. 
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks®, 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast; 


^ For foot-chth see note on King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. 
Sc. 7. Afoot-cloth horse was a palfrey covered with such hous- 
ings, nsed for state ; and was the nsual mode of conveyance for 
the rich, at a period when carriages were unknown. 

This is from Holinshed, who copies Sir Thomas More : — * In 
riding toward the Tower the same morning in which he [Hastings] 
was beheaded, his horse twice or thrice stumbled with him, almost 
to the falling; which thing, albeit each man wot well daily hap- 
peneth to them to whome no such mischance is toward : yet hath 
it beene of an old rite and custome observed as a token often- 
times notablie foregoing some great misfortune.' 

* * Nescius aur€B fallacis.' — Horace. 

William Lord Hastings was beheaded on the 13th of June, 1483. 
His eldest son by Catherine Neville, daughter of Richard Ne- 
ville, earl of Salisbury, and widow of William Lord Bonville, 
was restored to his honours and estate by King Henry VII. in 
the first year of his reign. The daughter of Lady Hastings,, by 
her first husband, was married to the marquis of Dorset, who 
appears in the present play. 


Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 

Xov. Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to ex- 

Hast. O, bloody Richard ! — miserable England ! 
I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee, 
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. — 
Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head ; 
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead^. 


SCENE V. The same. The Tower Walls. 

Enter Gloster and Buckingham, in rusty ar- 
mour, and marvellous ill favoured. 

Gh. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change 
thy colour?* 
Murder thy breath in middle of a word, — 
And then again begin, and stop again. 
As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror ? 

Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; 
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, 
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
Intending ^ deep suspicion : ghastly looks 

' Those who now smile at me shall be shortly dead them- 

1 i. e. pretending. Thus in the Rape of Lncrece : — 
* For then is Tarqpin broaght unto his bed. 
Intending weariness with heavy spright.' 
And Timon of Athens, Act ii. Sc. 2, where it has been hitherto 
erroneously explained : — 

* And so intending other serious matters. 
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions. 
With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods. 
They froze me into silence.' , 

Again in The Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 1, p. 412: — 
' Ay, and amid this burly, I intend [i. e. pretend] 
That all is done in reverend care of her.' 


Are at my sendee, like enforced smiles ; 
And both are ready in their offices, 
At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
But what, is Catesby gone ? 

Glo. He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor along. 

Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby. 
Buck. Let me alone to entertain him. — Lord 


Gh. Look to the drawbridge there. 

Buck. Hark, hark ! a drum. 

Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. 

Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent for 


Glo. Look back, defend thee, here f^e enemies. 
Buck. God and our innocence defend and guard us ! 

Enter Lovel and Ratcliff^ imih Hastings's 


Gh. Be patient, they are friends ; Ratciiff, and 

Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor. 
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 

Gh. So dear I lor'd the man, that I must weep. 
I took him for the plainest harmless creature. 
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ; 
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
The history of all her secret thoughts : 
So smooth he daub'd his rice with show of virtue. 
That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 
I mean, his conversation^ with Shore's wife, — 
He liv'd firom all attainder of suspect. 

' The quarto has * Enter Catesby toith Hastings's ffead,* For 
this absurd alteration, by which Ratciiff is represented at Pom- 
fret and in liondon at the same time, it is probable the editors of 
the folio have to answer. 

' i. e. familiar intercourse : what is now called ' criminal cott- 



Buck, Well, well, he was the covert'st sheltered 
That ever liv'd. — Look you, my lord mayor. 
Would you imagine, or almost believe, 
(Were't not, that by great preservation 
We live to tell it you), the subtle traitor 
This day had plotted in the council-house. 
To murder me, and my good lord of Gloster? 

May. What! had he so? 

GU). What ! think you we are Turks, or infidels ? 
Or that we would, against the form of law. 
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ; 
But that the extreme peril of the case. 
The peace of England, and our persons' safety, 
Enforc'd us to this execution ? 

May. Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his death ; 
And your good graces both have well proceeded. 
To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
I never look'd for better at his hands. 
After he once fell in with mistress Shore. 

Buck. Yet had we not determin'd he should die. 
Until your lordship came to see his end; 
Which now the loving haste of these our friends. 
Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevented : 
Because, my lord, we would have had you heard 
The traitor speak, and timorously confess 
The manner and the purpose of his treasons ; 
That you might well have signified the same 
Unto the citizens, who, haply, may 
Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death. 

May. But, my good lord, your grace's word shall 
As well as I had seen, and heard him speak : 
And do not doubt, right noble princes both. 
But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens 
With all your just proceedings in this case. 


Gh. And to that end we wish'd your lordship here. 
To avoid the censures of the carping world. 

Buck, But since you came too late of our intent ^^ 
Yet witness what you hear we did intend: 
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. 

[Exit Lord Mayor. 

Glo. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. 
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post :— 
There, at your meetest vantage of the time^^ 
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children : 
Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen. 
Only for saying — he would make his son 
Heir to the crown; meaning, indeed his house. 
Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so^. 
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury. 
And bestial appetite in change of lust; 
Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives. 
Even where his lustful eye, or savage heart. 
Without control, listed to make his prey. 
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person : — 
Tell them, when that my mother went with child 
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, 
My princely father, then had wars in France ; 
And, by just computation of the time. 
Found, that the issue was not his begot ; 
Which well appeared in his tineaments„ 
Being nothing Mke the noble duke my father : 

* ' Too late of oar intent.' In common speech a similar phrase 
is sometimes used ; viz. ' to come short o/a thing.' Mason would 
have changed of to for, 

^ This person was ont WtUher, a substantial citizen and grocer, 
at the Crown in Cheapside. These topics of Edward's cnielty, 
last, onlawfal marriage, &c. are enlarged apon in that most ex- 
traordinary inrective, the petition presented to Richard before 
his accession, which was afterwards tamed into an act of parlia- 
ment. Pari. Hist. 2.. p. 396. See also the dake of Bucking- 
ham's speech to the citizens in More's History, as copied by the 


Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off; 
Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives. ' 

Buck. Doubt not, my lord; I'll play the orator^ 
As if the golden fee, for which I plead, 
Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. 

Gh, If you thrive well, bring thena to Baynard's 
Where you shall find me well accompanied. 
With reverend fathers, and well learned bishops. 

Btick, I go; and, towards thtee or four o'clock. 
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. 

[Exit Buckingham. 

CUo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw, — 
Go thou [to Cat.] to friar Penker; — ^bid them both 
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle. 

[Exeunt Lovel and Catesby. 
Now will I in, to take some privy order 
To draw the brats of Clarence'' out of sight; 
And to give notice, that no manner of person 
Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. [Exit, 

^ Baynard^s Castle was originally bailt by Baynard, a noble- 
man who (according to Stowe) came in with the conqueror. It 
had belonged to Richard duke of York, but was now Edward 
the Fifth's. This edifice, which stood in Thames Street, has 
been long pulled down ; it is said that parts of its strong foun- 
dations may be seen at low water. 

"^ Edward Earl of Warvoicky who, the day after the battle of 
Bosworth, was sent by Richard from his confinement at Sheriff- 
Hutton Castle to the Tower, without even the shadow of an alle- 
gation against him, and who was afterwards cruelly sacrificed to 
a scruple of Ferdinand king of Spain, who was unwilling to marry 
his daughter Katherine to Arthur prince of Wales while he liyed, 
conceiving that his claim might interfere with Arthur's succes- 
sion to the crown. He was beheaded in 1409. Margarety after^ 
wards married to Sir Richard Pole, the last princess of the house 
of Lancaster, who was restored in blood in the fifth year of Hen- 
ry YIII. and afterwards, in the thirty-first year of his reign 
[^1540], barbarously led to the block at the age of seventy, for 
some ofience conceived at the oonduct of her son Cardinal Pole. 


SCENE VI. A Street 

Enter a Scrivener. 

Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good Lord 
Hastings ; 
Which in a set hand fairly is engrossed, 
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
And mark how well the sequel hangs together : — 
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, 
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; 
The precedent^ was full as long a doing : 
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd. 
Untainted, unexamin'd, ifree, at liberty. 
Here's a good world the while! — Who is so gross. 
That cannot see this palpable device ? 
Yet who so bold, but says — he not? 
Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought. 
When such bad dealing must be seen in thought^. 


SCENE vn. 

The same. Court of Baynard's Castle. 

Enter Gloster and Buckingham, meeting. 

Gh. How now, how now ? what say the citizens? 
Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
The citizens are mum, say not a word. 

Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's chil- 
dren ? 
Buck. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy^» 

* i. e. the original draft from which the engrossment was made. 
This circumstance, like the others in the plajr, is taken from Ho- 
linshed, who follows Sir Thomas More. f 

' i. e. seen in silence, withoat notice or detection. 

' The king had been familiar with this lady before hi& mar- 
riage, to obstruct which his mother alleged a precontract be- 


And his contract by deputy in France : 

The insatiate greediness of his desires, 

And his enforcement of the city wives ; 

His tyranny for trifles ; his ovm bastardy, — 

As being got, your father then in France^; ^ 

And his resemblance, being not like the duke. 

Withal, I did infer your lineaments, — 

Being the right idea of your father. 

Both in your form and nobleness of mind : 

Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 

Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace. 

Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ; 

Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose^ 

Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. 

And, when my oratory grew to an end, 

I bade them, that did love their country's good. 

Cry — God save Richard, England's royal king! 

Glo, And jAid they so ? 

Stick. No, so God help me, they spake not a word ; 
But, like dumb statuas ^, or breathless stones, 

tween them. But Elisabeth Lac7> being sworn to speak the 
trath, declared that the king had not been affianced to her, though 
she owned she had been his concubine. Edward, howeyer, had 
been married to Lady Eleanor Butler, widow of Lord Butler of 
Sudelj, and daughter to the great earl of Shrewsbury. On this 
ground his children were declared illegitimate by the only par- 
liament asseibbled by King Richard III. ; but no mention was 
made of Elizabeth Lucy. 

^ This tale is supposed to have been first propagated by the 
duke of Clarence when he obtained a settlement of the crown on 
himself and his issue after the death of Henry VI. Sir Thomas 
. More says that the duke of Gloster, soon after Edward's death, 
reyiyed this scandal. Walpole thinks it highly improbable that 
Richard should haye urged such a topic to the people, or ' start 
doubts of his own legitimacy, which was too much connected 
with that of his brothers, to be tossed and bandied about before 
the multitude.' He has also shown that Richard ' lived in per- 
fect harmony with his mother, and lodged with her in her palace 
at this very time.' — Historic Dou6t«„4to. 1768. 

3 It would not be difficult (says Mr. Reed) to fill whole pages 
with instances to prove that statue was formerly a word of three 


Stared on each other, aod look'd deadly pale. 
Which when I saw, I reprehended them; 
And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence ; 
His answer was,-^the people were not us'd 
To be spoke to, but by the recorder. 
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again : 
Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferred; 
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. 
When he had done, some followers of mine own, 
At lower end o'the hall, hurl'd up their caps. 
And some ten voices cried, God save King Richard! 
And thus I took the vantage of those few, — 
JTumks, gentle citizens, andjriendsy quoth I ; 
2%is general apphmse, and cheerful shout. 
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard: 
And even here brake off and came away. 

Glo, What tongueless blocks were tliey : Would 
they not speak ? 
Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, come? 

Buck, The mayor is here at hand; intend^ some 
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit : 
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand, 
And stand between two churchmen, good my lord; 
Por on that ground I'll make a holy descant : 

syllables ; aod there are several passages in Shakspeare where 
it is necessary so to pronounce it. It has been thought advise- 
able in these instances to adhere to the old orthography, tteUua, 
which distinguishes it as a trisyllable, as in the present instance. 
Lord Bacon, in his Advancement of Learning, 1633 : — ' It is 
not possible to have the trne pictures, or gtiOuaea, of Cyras, 
Alexander, Caesar, no nor of the kings or great personages of 
mach later years.' It occnrs several times in his forty-fifth 
Essay, and in other places. Steevens remarks that sfat%te, heroe, 
and some other Latin words which were admitted into the Eng- 
lish language, still retained their Roman pronunciation. But it 
should be observed that statue^ as a dissyllable, was also in use. 
* Pretend. Vide note on p. 88. 


And be not easily won to our requests ; 

Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. 

Glo, I go ; And if you plead as well for them. 
As I can say nay to thee* for myself, 
No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. 

Buck, Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor 
knocks. [Exit Gloster. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. 

Welcome, my lord ; I dance attendance here ; 
I think, the duke will not be spoke withal. — 

Enter, from the Castle, Gates by. 

Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my request? 

Cate, He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord. 
To visit him to-morrow, or next day : 
He is within, with two right reverend fathers. 
Divinely bent to meditation ; 
And in no worldly suit would he be inov'd. 
To draw him from his holy exercise. 

Buck, Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke ; 
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen. 
In deep designs, in matter of great moment. 
No less importing than our general good. 
Are come to have some conference with his grace. 

Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight. 


Buck, Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Ed- 
He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed^, 

^ Backingham is to plead for the citizens ; and if (says Ri- 
<chard) joa speak for them as plausibly as I in my own person, 
or for my own purposes shall seem to deny yonr suit, there is 
no doubt we shall bring all to a happy issue. 

* i. e. a oouch, or sofa. In Twelfth Night Malvolio enume- 
rates a day4>ed among his dreams of greatness. And in Role a 



But on his knees at meditation ; 

Not dallying with a brace of courtezans. 

But meditating with two deep divines ; 

Not sleeping, to engross*^ his idle body, 

But praying, to enrich his watchful soul : 

Happy were England, would this virtuous prince 

Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: 

But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. 

May, Marry, God defend, his grace should say 
us nay® ! 

Buck. I fear, he will: Here Catesby comes 
again : — 

Re-enter Catesby. 

Now, Catesby, what says his grace? 

Cate, He wonders to what end you have assem- 
Such troops of citizens to come to him. 
His grace not being wam'd thereof before. 
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. 

Buck, Son^y I am, my noble cousin should 
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him : 
By heaven, we cdme to him in perfect love ; 
And so once more return and tell his grace. 

[Exit Catesby. 
When holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence ; 
So sweet is zealous contemplation. 

Wife and Have a Wife, Esiifania says, in answer to Perez, 
Act i. : — 

' This place will fit oar talk ; *tis fitter far, sir ; 
Above there are day-heds, and such temptations, 
I dare not trast, sir.' 
7 Fatten, pamper. 

® This pions and ooartly mayor was Edmnnd Sbaw, brother 
to Doctor Shaw, whom Richard employed to prove liis title to 
the crown from the palpit at Paul's Cross. 



Enter Gloster, in a Gallery above, between Ttoo 
Bishops. Gates BY returns. 

May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two 
clergymen ! 

Buck, Two props of virtue for a christian prince. 
To stay him frpm the fall of vanity : 
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand; 
True ornaments to know a hoIy>man. — * 
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, 
Lend favourable ear to our requests ; 
And pardon us the interruption 
Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal. 

Glo, My lord, there needs no such apology; 
I rather do beseech you pardon me, 
"Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
Neglect the visitation of my friends. 
But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure ? 

Buck, Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God 
And all good men of this ungovem'd isle. 

Glo. I do suspect, I have done some offence. 
That seems disgracious in the city's eye ; 
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. 

Buck, You have, my lord ; Would it might please 
your grace. 
On our entreaties, to amend your fault ! 

Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land ? 

Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign 
The supreme seat, the throne majestical. 
The sceptred ojQGlce of your ancestors. 
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth. 
The lineal glory of your royal house. 
To the corruption of a blemished stock: 
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts 
(Which here we waken to our country's good). 


The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ; 
Her face Hefac'd with scars' of infamy. 
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants^. 
And almost shoulder'd^^ ia the swallowing gulf 
Of dark forgetfulness and deep obliyion. 
Which to recure ^^, we heartily solicit 
Your gracious self to take on you the charge 
And kingly goyemmeut of this your land: 
Not as protector, steward, substitute. 
Or lowly factor for another's gain : 
But as successively, from blood to blood. 
Your right of birth, your empery, your own. 
For this, consorted with the citizens. 
Your very worshipfitl and loving friends. 
And by their vehement instigation. 
In this just suit come I to move your grace. 
Glok I cannot tell, if to depart in silence. 
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, 
Best fitteth my degree or your condition : 
If, not to answer, — ^you might haply think. 
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty. 
Which fondly you would here impose on me ; 
If to reprove you for this suit of yours. 
So season'd with your faithful love to me. 
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. 
Therefore,- — ^to speak, and to avoid the first ; 

^ Shakspeare seems to haye remembered the text on wbich 
Dr. Shaw preached his remarkable sermon at St. Paul's Cross :— • 
' Bastard slips shall never take deep root.' 

^^ Shouldered in has the same meaning as rudely thrust into. 
Thus in a carioas paper quoted by Mr. Lysons in his Environs 
of London, vol. iii. p. 80, n. 1 : — ' Lyke tyrauntes and lyke 
Huidde men helpynge to thidderynge other of the sayd bannermen 
ynto the dyohe.' 

" Recover. The word is frequently used by Spenser ; and 
both as a verb and a substantive by Lyly. 


And, then in speaking, not to incur the last, — 
Definitively thus I answer you. 
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert 
Unmeritable, shuns your high request. 
First, if all obstacles were cut away. 
And that my path were even to the crown. 
As my ripe revenue and due of birth ; 
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, 
So mighty, and so many, my defects. 
That I would rather hide me from my greatness, — 
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, — 
Than in my • greatness covet to be hid. 
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. 
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me; 
(And much I need^^ to help you, if need were) ; 
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit. 
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time. 
Will well become the seat of majesty, 
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
On him I lay what you would lay on me. 
The right and fortune of his happy stars, — 
Which, God defend, that I should wring from him ! 
Buck, My lord, this argues conscience in your 
But the respects thereof are nice^^ and trivial. 
All circumstances well considered. 
You say, that Edward is your brother's son ; 
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife : 
Eor first he was contract to Lady Lucy, 
Your mother lives a witness to his vow ; 
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd 
To Bona, sister to the king of France. 

*^ And I want m«cA of the ability requisite to give yoa help, if 
help Were needed. 

19 Weak, silly. See note on The Taming of the Shrew, Act 
iii. Sc. 2. 


These both put by, a poor petitioner**, 

A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, 

A beauty-waning and distressed widow. 

Even in the afterboon of her best days. 

Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, 

Sedu<^'d the pitch and height of all his thoughts 

To base declension and loath'd bigamy^: 

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got 

This Edward, whom our manners caU^the prince. 

More bitterly could I expostulate. 

Save that, for reverence to some alive *^, 

I give a sparing limit to my tongue. 

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self 

This proffered benefit of dignity : 

If riot to bless us and llie land withal. 

Yet to draw forUl your noble ancestry 

From the corruption of abusing time. 

Unto a lineal true-derived course. 

May, Do, good my lord ; your citizens entreat you. 

Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. 

Cate. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit. 

Glo, Alas, why would you heap those cares on me ? 
I am unfit for state and majesty: — 
I do beseech you, take it not amiss ; 
I cannot, nor I will not, yield to you. 

Buck. If you refuse it, — as in love and zeal. 
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; 

'-* See King Henry VI. Part iii. Act iii. 

'^ Bigamy y bj a canon of the conncil of Lyons, A. D. 1274 
(adopted by a statute in 4 Edw. I.), was malde onlawfol and in- 
famoas. It differed from polygamy, or baring two wives at onoe ; 
as it consisted in either marrying two virgins suocessirely,. or 
once marrying a widow. This is. from Sir T. More, as copied 
by Hall and Holinshed. 

'^ The dake here hints at the pretended bastardy of Edward 
and Clarence. By ' some alive' is meant the dachess of York, 
the mother of Edward and Richard. This is very closely copied 
from Sir Thomas More. 

K 2 . 

J I 


As well we know your tenderness of heart, 
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse ^^, 
Which we have noted in you to your kindred, 
And equally, indeed, to all estates, — 
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no. 
Your brother's son shall never reign our king; 
But we will plant some other in your throne ; 
To the disgrace and downfall of your house. 
And, in this resolution, here we leave you ; 
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. 

[Exeunt Buckingham and Citizens. 

Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their 
If you deny them, all the land will rue it. 

Glo, Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? 
Well, call them again ; I am not made of stone. 
But penetrable to your kind entreaties, 

[Exit Catesbt. 
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. — 

Re-enter Buckingham and the rest. 

Cousin of Buckingham, — and you sage,grave men, — 
Since you will buckle fortune on my back. 
To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no, . 
I must have patience to endure the load : 
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach. 
Attend the sequel of your imposition. 
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
From all the impure blots and stains thereof; 
For God he knows, and you may partly see. 
How far I am from the desire of this. 

May. God bless your grace ! we see it, and will 
say it. 

Glo» In saying so, you shall but say the truth. 

Buck, Then I salute you with this royal title, — 
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king I . 

" Pity. 


All. Amen. 

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd ? 

Gh. Even when you please, since you will have 

it so. 
Buck. To-morrow then we will attend your grace ; 
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. 
Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again. — 

[ To the Bishops. 
Farewell, good cousin; — farewell, gentle friends^®. 



SCENE I. Before the Tower. 

Enter on one side, Queen Elizabeth, Duchess 
of York, and Marquis of Dorset; on the 
other, Anne, Duchess of Gloster^, leading 
Lady Margaret Plantagenet, Clarence's 
young Daughter. » 

Duck. Who meets us here? — my niece* Planta- 
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster ? 
Now, for my life, she's wand'ring to the Tower, 
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.— 
Daughter, well met. 

'" ' To this act should probably be added the next scene, so 
will the coronation pass between the actii ; and there will not 
only be-A proper interval of action, bnt the conclusion will be 
more forcible.' — Johnson. 

^ We haye not seen this lady since the second scene of the 
first act, in which she promised to meet Richard at Crosby Place. 
She was married to him aboat the year 1472. 

' i. e. grandrdaughier. See note on King Henry VI. Part i. 
Act ii. Sc. 5, p. 50. We may here add that in Jnniiis's Nomen- 
clator, by Higgins, 1585, Nepos has no other explanation than 
' a nephew; that is, ones son*s or daughter* s child.* The words 
grandson or grand-daughter neyer Qccur in Shakspeare. 


Anne. God give your graces both 

A happy and a joyful time of day ! 
. Q. Elis. As much to you^ good sister ! Whither 
Anne* No further than the Tower ; and, as I guess. 
Upon the like devotion as yourselves. 
To gratulate the gentle princes there. 

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks ; we'll enter all to- 

Enter Brakenbury. 

And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. — 

Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave. 

How doth the prince, and my yjoung son of York ? 

Brak, Right well, dear imadam : By your pati- 
I may not suffer you to visit them; 
The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. 

Q. Eliz. The king! who's that? 

Brak, I mean, the lord protector. 

Q. Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly 
Hath he set bounds between their love and me ? 
I am their mother, who shall bar me from them ? 

Dnch. I am their father's mother, I will see them. 

Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mo- 
ther : 
Then bring me to. their sights^; I'll bear thy blame> 
And take thy office from thee, on my peril. 

' This was the phraseology of Shakspeare's time. Thas in 
Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 2 : — 

' And nif^ht's black agents to their pteys do ronse.' 
1^0 in a translation from Vii^il, in The Householder's Philoso* 
phie, 1588: — 

' We hide oar grey hairs with our helmets, liking ever 

To live upon the sport, and waft our praxes from shore 
to shore.' 
And in Erasmus De Contempta Mnndi, translated by Thomas 


Brak. N09 madaoi, no, I may not leave it so ^ ; 
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. 

[Exit Brakenbury. 

Enter Stanley. 

Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence. 
And 111 salute your ^ace of York as mother. 
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. — 
Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. 

[To the Duchess of Gloster. 
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 

Q. Eliz, Ah, cut my lace asunder ! 
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat. 
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. 

Anne, Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news ! 

Dor. Be of good cheer: — Mother, how fares your 

Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone. 
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ; 
Thy mother's name is ominous to children : 
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas. 
And live with Richmond from the reach of hell. 
Go, hie thee, hi^ thee, from this slaughter-house. 
Lest thou increase the number of the dead; 
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, — 
Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. 

;Sjfafi. Pull of wise care is this your counsel, ma- 
dam : — 
Take all the swift ^advantage of the hours ; 
You shall have letters from me to my son 
In your behalf, to meet you on the way : 
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. 

Paynel, blk 1. no date : — ' The caases of oar twos frendshyp be 
rjght great and manyfolde ; onr brjngynge ap together of chjl- 
dreo, the marvajlous agrement of oar two myndes/ &c. 
* i. e. ' I maj' not so resign my office.' . 


Duch, O ill-dispersing wind of misery !; — 
O my accursed womb, the bed of death ; 
A cockatrice^ hast thou hatch'd to the world. 
Whose unavoided eye is murderous ! 

Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was 


Anne* And I with all unwillingness will go. — 
O, would to God, that the inclusive verge 
Of golden metal, that must round my brow. 
Were red-hot steel, to sear^ me to the brain ! 
Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
And die, ere men can say — God save the queen ! 

Q, Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory ; 
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. 

Anne, No ! why ? — When he, that is my husband 

^ A serpent supposed to originate from a cock's egg. Thus 
ib Romeo and Juliet : — 

* the death-darting ^e of a cochiOrice,* 

^ She seems to allude to the ancient mode of punishing a regi- 
cide, or other criminals, hy placing a crown of iron heated red 
hot upon his head. See Respuhlica et Status Hnngarise, Elzev. 
1634, p. 136. In the Tragedy* of Hoffman, 1631, this punish- 
ment is introduced :— 

* Fix on thy master's head my huming crown.' 
Again ; — 

* ■ was adjudg'd 

To have his head sear'd with a burning crown,' 

in some of the monkish accounts of a place of future torments, a 
burning crown is likewise appropriated to those who deprived 
any lawful monarch of his kingdom. Goldsmith alludes to the 
punishment of the peasant engaged in the Hungarian rebellion 
ahoye referred to: — 

' Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel.' 
See Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. ii. p. 6, where it is observed 
that though George and Luke Zeck were both engaged in the re- 
bellion, it was the former who was thus punished ; but Cfeorge 
would not suit the poet's verse. The earl of Athol, who was 
executed for the murder of James I. king of Scots, was previous 
to death crowned with a hot iron. 


Came to me, as I foUow'd Henry's corse ; 

Wh^l scarce the blood was well wash'd from his 

Which issu'd from my other angel husband, 
And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd ; 
O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, 
This was my wish, — Be thou, quoth I, accursed, 
For making me, 90 young, so old a widow ! 
And, when thou wed it, let sorrow haunt thy bed; 
And be thy wife (if any be so mad). 
More miserable by the life of thee. 
Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death I 
Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again. 
Even in so short a space, my woman's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his honey words. 
And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse : 
Which e^er since hath held mine eyes from rest ; 
For never yet one hour in his bed 
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep. 
But with his timorous dreams^ was still awak'd. 
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick ; 
And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 

Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complaining. 

Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. 

Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory ! 

Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it ! 

Duch, Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune 
guide thee ! — [ To Dorset. 

Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee ! — 

[To Anne, 
Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess 
ihee ! [To Q. Elizabeth. 

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me \ 

7 It 18 recorded bj Polydore Virgil that Richard wag fre- 
quent! j disturbed bj terrible dreams. The reracity of that his* 
torian has been called in doubt ; but Shakspeare followed the 
popular histories. 


Eighty odd years ^ of sorrow have I seen. 
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen^. 
Q. Eliz, Stay yet; look back, with me, unto the 
Tower. — 
Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes. 
Whom envy halii immur'd within your walls ! 
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones ! 
Rude ragged nurse ! old sullen playfellow 
For tender princes, use my babies well I 
So foolish soiTow bids your stones farewell. 


SCENE II. A Roam of State in tlie Palace. 

Flourish of Trumpets, Richard, as King upon 
his throne: Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, 
and Others. 

K. Rich. Stand all apart — Cousin of Bucking- 

' Buck. My gracious sovereign. 
K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy 
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated : — 
But shall we wear these glories for a day ? 
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ? 

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last ! 
K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the 
touch ^, 

® Sbakspeare seems here to have spoken at random. The 
present scene is in 1483. Richard dnke of York, the hasband 
of this ladj, had he been then Hying, would have been but seventy- 
three years old, and we may reasonably suppose she was not 
older : nor did she go speedily to her grare ; she lived till 1495. 

• Sorrow. 

* * To play the toiuh* is to resemble the touehatone. Thus in 
Drayton's Heroical Epistles : — 

* Before mine eyes, like toucht thy shape did prore.' 

Mary the French Queen to Charles Brandon, 


To try if thou be current gold, indeed : — 
Young Edward lives; — ^Think now what I would 
Buck. Say on, my loving lord. 
K, Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say, I. would be 

Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege. 
K.Rich. Ha ! am I king? Tis so : but Edward lives. 
Buck. True, noble prince. 
K. Rich. O bitter consequence. 

That Edward still should live, — true, noble prince ! — 
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull : 
Shall I be plain ? I wish the bastards dead ; 
And I would have it suddenly performed. 
What say'st thou now ? speak suddenly, be brief. 
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. 
K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness 
freezes : 
Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die ? 
Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, 
dear lord. 
Before I positively speak in this : 
I will resolve your grace immediately. 

[Exit Buckingham. 
Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip^. 

K. Rich. I will converse with, iron-witted fools, 

[Descends from his Throne. 
And unrespective boys ^ : none are for jne, 

* Sereral of our ancient historians observe that this was an 
accustomed action of Richard, whether he was pensive or angry. 
' Unrespective f i. e. devoid of cautions and prudential consi- 
deration, inconsiderate, unregardful. Thus in Daniel's Cleopa- 
tra, 1599:— 

' When dissolute impiety possessed 
The tmrespective minds of prince and people.' 
So in Troilas and Cressida : — 

VOL. VII. . L 


That look into me with considerate eyes ; — 
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect- 

Page. My lord. 

K. Rich, Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting 
Would tempt unto a dose exploit^ of death? 

Page. I know a discontented gentleman. 
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind : 
Gold were as good as twenty orators, 
And will no doubt tempt him to any thing. 

K. Rich. What is his name ? 

Page. His name, my lord, is — ^Tyrrel. 

K. Rich. I partly know the man ; Go, call him 
hither, boy. — [Exit Page. 

The deep-revolTing witty ^ Buckingham 
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels : 
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd, 
And stops he now for breath ? — ^well, be it so. — 

Enter Stanley. 

How now. Lord Stanley? what's the news? 

Stan. Know, my loving lord^ 

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled 
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. 

* Nor the remaining yiands 

We do not throw in nnrespective siere, 

Becaose we now are fall.' 
Thus in Timon of Athens, Act iy. Sc. 3 : — 

< never learn'd 

The icy precepts of respect^ bat followed 

The sagar'd game before thee.* 
* Secret act. 

' Wiity was not at this time employed to signify a man qf 
fancy t bat was used for sagacity ^ wxadomt or judgment; or, as 
Baret defines it, ' having the senses sharp f perceiving orforeaeeittg 
quicklie.* So in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1699 : — 

' Although unwise to live, had wii to die.' 
And in one of Ben Jonson's Masques: — 

' And at her feet do witty serpents move.' 


K.Rich. Come hither, Catesby : rumour it abroad. 
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ; 
I will take order ^ for her keeping close. • 
Inquire me out some mean born gentleman. 
Whom I willmarry straightto Clarence' daughter : — 
The boy is foolish^, and I fear not him. — 
Look, how thou dream'st! — I say again, give out, 
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: 
About it : for it stands me much upon°. 
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me. — - 

[Exit Catesby, 
I must be married to my brother's daughter. 
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass : — 
Murder her brothers, and then marry her ! 
Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in 
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin^. 
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. — 

Re-enter Page, tvith Tyrrel. 
Is thy name— TyrreP*^ ? 

^ i. e. take meaavres. See note on Cymedy of Errors, Act v. 
Sc. 1, p. 192. 

^ Shakspeare has here perhaps anticipated the folly of this 
yoath. He was at this time, I believe, aboat ten years old, and 
ure are not told by any historian that he had then exhibited any 
symptoms of folly. Being confined by King Henry VII. imme^ 
diately after the battle of Bosworth, and his education being 
entirely neglected, he is described by Polydore Virgil, at the 
time of his death in 1499, as an idiot ; and his account, which ia 
copied by Holinshed, was certainly a sufficient aothority for 
Shakspeare's representation. 

' i. e. it is incumbent upon me. See note on King Richard II. 
.Act ii. Sc. 3, p. 55. 

• * T am in blood 

Step'd in so far, that should I wade no more 
Retutning were as tedious,' &c. Matheih. 

'^ ' The best part oi our chronicles, in all men's opinions, is 
that ot Richard III. written as I have heard by Moorton, but as 
most suppose by Sir Thomas More, sometime lord chancellor of 
Eoglaod, where it is said, how the king was devising with Tyrril 


TSfT, James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub- 
K. Rich, Art thou, indeed ? 
Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. 

K,Rich, Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine ? 
Tyr. Please you ; but I had rather kill two ene- 
mies. . 
K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep ene- 
Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers. 
Are they diat I would have thee deaP^ upon : 
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. 

Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them. 
And soon I'll rid you ftrom the fear of them. 

K.Rich. Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark, come 
hither, Tyrrel ; 
Go, by this token : — Rise, and lend thine ear : 

There is no more but so ; — Say, it is done, 
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it^^. 
Tyr. I will despatch it straight. [Exit. 

Re-enter Buckingham. 

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind 
The late demand that you did sound me in. 

to have his nephews privily mardered ; and it is added, be tmu 
then sitting on a draught ; a fit carpet for sach a counsel.' The 
Metamorphosis of Ajax ; by Sir John Harington, 1596. See like- 
wise Holinshed, ii. p. 7S5. Sir James Tyrrel was execated for 
treason in the beginning of King Henry VII. See Fuller's Wor- 
thies, Cornwall, p. 210. 

'* We should now say ' deal with,* but the other was the 
phraseology of Shakspeare's time. * At Wolfe's he's 1>illetted, 
sweating and dealing upon it most intentively.' Nashe^s Have 
with you to Suffron Walden, 1596. 

1' The quarto has here the following y^ry characteristio 
line : — 

* King, Shall we hear from thee, Tirril, ere we sleep V 


K. Rich, Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to 

Buck. I hear the news, my lord. 

K. Rich. Stanley, he's your wife's son : — Well, 
look to it. 

Buck, My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise^ 
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ; 
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables ^^^ 
Which you have promised I shall possess. 

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she convey 
Letters to Richmond, you cjiall answer it. 

Bwk. What says your highness to my just re- 
quest ? 

K. Rich. I do remember me, — Henry the Sixth 
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king. 
When Richmond was a little peevish boy. 
A king? — perhaps 

Buck. My lord, — 

K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at 
that time, 
Have told me, I being by ^^, that I should kill him? 

Buck. My lord, your promise for the eai'ldom, — 

*^ King Henry IV. married one of the daughters and ooheira 
of Hiimphrey Bohun, earl of Hereford ; and the other was mar- 
ried to Thomas duke of Gloster, fifth son of King Edward III. 
who was created earl of Hereford, in 1386, by King Richard II. 
his only daughter Anne having married Edmund earl of Stafford. 
The dake of Buckingham (who was the grandson of this Bdmund 
and Anne) had some pretensions to claim a new grant of the title, 
vbut he had not a shadow of right to the moiety of the estate, which 
if it derolved to King Edward IV. with the crown, was now the 
property of his children, or otherwise belonged to the right heirs 
of King Henry IV. Many of our historians, however, ascribe the 
breaoh between him and Richard, to Richard's refusing to restore 
the moiety of the Hereford estate ; and Shakspeare has followed 

^* The duke of Gloster, according to the former play, was not 
by when King Henry uttered the prophecy, but the poet does not 
often trouble himself about such minute points of accuracy, 



JT. Rich, Richmond ! — ^When last I was at Exeter, 
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, 
And call'd it — Rouge-mont ^^ : at which name, I 

started ; 
Because a bard of Ireland told me once, 
I should not live long after I saw Richmond. 

Btick, My lord, 

K, Rich, ' Ay, what's o'clock? 

Buck. I am thus bold 

To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me. 

K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock ? 

Buck. Upon the stroke 

Of ten. 

K. Rich. Well, let it strike. 

Buck, Why, let it strike ? 

K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack ^^, thou keep'st 
the stroke 
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. 
I am not in the giving vein to-day. 

Buck. Why, then resolve mewhe'ryou will, or no. 

^^ Hooker, who wrote in Qneen Elizabeth's time, in his de- 
scription of Exeter, mentions this as a *' very old and antient 
castle, named Rngemont; that is to say Red Hill, taking the 
name of the red soil or earth whereupon it is situated/ It was 
first bnilt, he adds, as some thinkf bj Jnlias Caesar, bnt rather, 
and in truth, by the Romans after him. 

^^ This allndes to the jack of the clock house, mentioned before 
in King Richard 11. Act v. Sc. 5. It was a figure made in.old^ 
public clocks to strike the bell on the outside; of the same 
kind as those still preserved at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet 
Street. Richard compares Buckingham to one of the automa- 
tons, and bids him not to suspend the stroke on thf^. clock bell, 
but strike, that the noise may be past, and himself at liberty to 
pursue his meditations. Jack was a term of contempt, occurring 
before in this play; the following passage from Cotgrave, in 
Toce FretUlon, will further elucidate its meaning, * Ajacke of the' 
clocke-house ; a little busie-bodie, medler,jack-^ickkr; one that 
has an oare in every man's boat, or his hand in every man's 
dish.' The sycophant lords in Timon of Athens are called mtnuie" 


K, Rich, Thou troubles! me; I am not in the vein. 
[Exeunt King Richard and Tram. 

Buck. And is it thus ? repays he my 4leep service 
With such contempt ? made I him king for this ? 
Oy let me think on Hastings; and be. gone 
To Brecknock ^"^y while my fearful head is on. [Exit. 

SCENE III. The same. 

Enter Tyrrel. 

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre^ 
That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 
Albeit tiiey were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs. 
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion. 
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 
thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes, — 
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another 
Within their alabaster innocent arms: 
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, 
Which, in their summer beauty, kissed eaxih other. 
A book of prayers on their pillow lay ; 
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind; 
But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd; 
When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 
The most replenished sweet work pf nature. 
That, from the prime creation, e'er sh^fram'd. — 
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse, . 
They could not speak; and so I left them both. 
To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 

Enter King Richard. 

And here he comes : — AUhealth, my sovereign lord ! 
K. Rich, Kind Tyrrel ! am I happy in thy news ? 

*7 His castle in Wales, 


Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge 
Beget your happiness, be happy then. 
For it is done. 

K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead? 

Tyr. I did, my lord. 

K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel ? 

Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them ; 
But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper. 
When thou shalt tell the process of their death. 
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good, 
And be inheritor of thy desire. 
Farewell, till then. 

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. 

K.Rich. The son of Clarence have I pen'd up close ; 
His daughter meanly have I nftitch'd in marriage ; 
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, 
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. 
Now, for I know the Bretagne ^ Richmond aims 
At ybung Elizabeth, my brother's daughter. 
And, by that^knot, looks proudly on the crown. 
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. 

Enter Catesby. 

Cate. My lord, — 

K» Rich. Good nWs or bad, that thou com'st in 

so bluntly ? 
Cate. Bad news, my lord; Morton^ is fled to 
B.ichmond ; 
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy WelshmeOy 
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more 

' He thas denominates Richmond, because after the buttle of 
Tewksbary he had taken refuge in the coArt of Francis II. 
duke of Bretagne, where by the procurement of Edward IV. he 
Was kept a long time io honourable custody. 

3 Bishop of Ely. 


Thaa Buckingham and his rash levied strength. 
Come, — I have leam'd, that fearful commenting 
Is leaden servitor to dull delay ^ ; 
Delay leads impotent and snail pac'd beggary : 
Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield; 
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. 


SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. 

Enter Queen Margaret. 

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow. 
And drop into the roUen mouth of death ^. 
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd. 
To watch the waning of mine enemies. 
A dire induction^ am I witness to. 
And will to France; hoping, the consequence 
Will prove as bitter, blacky and tragical. 
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes 
here ? 

Enter Queen Elizabetj|i and the Duchess of 


Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my tender 
babes ! 
My unblown flowers, new appearing sweets ! 
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, 

' TimoroQS thonght and caatioas disquisition are the dull 
attendants on delay. 

1 ' now is his fate grown meUow, 

Instant to fall into the rotten jatos 
Of chap-fall'n death.* 

Marston's Antonio and MeUida, 1602. 
King Richard III. was printed in 1597, Marston is therefore the 

3 Indaction is preface, introduction, or prologue. As in the 
instance of Sacktille's Induction to the Mirror for Magistrates. . 


And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, 
Horer about me with your airy wiugs. 
And hear your mother's lamentation f 

Q, Mar. Hover about her ; say> that right for 
right ^ 
Hath dimm'd yoUr infant mom to aged night. 

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice. 
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute, — 
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead ? 

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, 
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. 

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle 
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done ? 
Q.Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. 
Duch, Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living 
Woe's scene, world's shatne, grave's due by life 

Brief abstract and record of tedious days. 
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, 

[Sitting down. 
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood ! 
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as sopn afford a 
grave, / 

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; 
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here ! 
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we? 

[Sitting down hy her, 

' In the third scene of the first act Margaret was reproached 
with the murder of young Rutland, and the death of her husband 
and son were imputed to divine vengeance roused by that wicked 
act ' So just is God to right the innocent,' Margaret now 
perhaps means to say, ' The right of me, an injured mother, 
whose son was slain at Tewksbury, has now operated as power- 
fully as that right which the death of Rutland gave you to divine 
justice, and has destroyed your children in their turn.* 


Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, 
Give mine the benefit of seniory ^, 
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. 
If sorrow can admit society, 

[luting down with them. 
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine : — 
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ; 
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him : 
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him : 
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. 

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill 
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard 
kill'd him ; 
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
A hell hound, that doth hunt us all to death : 
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, 
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood ; 
That foul defacer of God's handy work ; 
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth. 
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls. 
Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.-— 
O upright, just, and true disposing God, 
How do I thank thee, that this carnal^ cur 
Preys on the issue of his mother's body. 
And makes her pew-fellow^ with others' moan ! 

Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes; 
God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 

* Seniority. ' 
« Vide Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2 :— 

' Of camai, bloody, and unnatoral acts.' 

Its apparent signification is cruel, sanguinary , fleshly-minded. 

* i. e. partaker of or participcUor in the grief of others. The 
word appears to haye been nsed metaphorically for an equal, a 
companion, or old and intimate acqnaintance. Sir John Haw^ 
kiiis asserted that it was still in use. Thns in Northward Hoe, 


Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungjy £br revengey 
And now I cloy me with beholding it 
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward ; 
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward; 
Young York he is but boot'', because both they 
Match not the high perfection of my loss. 
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabh'd my Edward ; 
And the beholders of this tragick play. 
The adulterate^ Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, 
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves. 
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; 
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls, 
And send them thither : But at hand, at hand. 
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end : 
Earth gapes, hell bums, fiends roar, saints pray. 
To have him suddenly conveyM from hence : — 
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray. 
That I jnay live to say. The dog is dead ! 

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would 
That I should wish for thee to help me curse 
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad. 

Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my 
fortune ; 
I call'd thee then, poor. shadow, painted queen; 
The presentation of but what I was, 

a comedj by Decker and Webster : — ' He woald make him pue- 
fellom -with a lord's steward at least' In Westward for Smelts 
we have it in its literal sense of a person who sat in the same 
seat at chnrch : — ' Being one day at chnrch, she made mone to 
her pern fellow,* 

^ i. e. thrown into the bai^^n. 

^ Adulterate h stained vjUk adultery, Adalterata, Lat. Thos 
in Hamlet, the ghost says : — 

* that incestaoQs, that aAtlterate beast.' 

Hastings was adulterate, as he had cohabited with Jane Shore. 
Margaret may, howeyer, mean to call Ydm false, sophisticatef for 
she had tried his friendship, and found it faithless. 


The flattering index ^ of a direful pageant, 

One.heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below : 

A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; 

A dream of what thou wast; a garish ^^ flag, 

To be the aim of every dangerous shot; 

A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 

A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 

Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ? 

Where be thy two sons ? wherein dost thou joy ? 

Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the 

queen ? 
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee ? 
Where be the thronging troops that follow 'd thee? 
Decline all this^S smd see what now thou art. 
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ; 
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn 'd of me ; 
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
For one commanding all, obey'd of none. 
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about. 
And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
Having no more but thought of what thou wert. 
To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
Thou didst usurp my place. And dost thou not 
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow ? 

' See note on p. 49, and on Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 4 : — 

* what act 

That roars so loud and thnnders in the indexj 

Mr. Nares sngg^ests that the index of a pageant was probabljr a 
painted cloth hang np before a booth where a pageant was to be 

^^ Allnding to the dangerous situation of those persons to whose 
care the standards of armies were entrusted. 

** i. e. run through all this from first to last. So in Troilns 
4ind Cressida : — ' I'll dtcliii0 the whole question.' This phrase 
the poet borrowed from his grammar. 



Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; 
From which even here I' slip my wearied head, 
And leave the burden of it all on thee. 
Farewell, York's wife, — and queen of sad mis- 
chance, — 
These English woes shall make me smile in France. 

Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while, 
And teach me how to curse mine enemies. 

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the 
Compare dead happiness with living woe : 
Think that thy babes were fairer than they were. 
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is : 
Bettering ^^ thy loss makes the bad causer worse; 
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them 
with thine ! 

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and 
pierce like mine. [Exit Q. Margaret. 

Duch. Why should cal^miity be full of words ? 

Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes ^*, 
Airy succeeders of intestate joys^*. 
Poor breathing orators of miseries J 

*' Fast has do connection with the preceding word /orfteor; 
the meaning heing sleep not at night, and fast daring the day. 

1' Bettering is ampHfywg, magnifying thy loss. Shakspeare 
employed the word for the sake of the antilhesis between better 
and loss. 

^* Thus in Venns and Adonis : — 

' So of concealed sorrow may be said : 
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage ; 
Bat when the heart's attorney once is mate. 
The client breaks as desperate of his sait.' 
*' The meaning of this harsh metaphor is : The joys already 
possessed being all consumed and passed away, are supposed to 
haye died intestate ; that is, to haye made no will, haying nothing 
to bequeath ; and more yerbal complaints are their suooessors, 
but inherit nothing but misery. 

SC. IV. KING RICHARD 111. 123 

Let them have scope : though what they do impart 
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart ^^. 

Duck. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd : go with me. 
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother 
My danmed son, that thy two sweet sons smothered. 

[Drum within. 
I hear his drum, — ^be copious in exclaims. 

Enter King Richard, and his Train, marching, 

K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition ? 
Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee. 
By strangling thee in her accursed womb. 
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. 
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden 
Where should be branded, if that right were right. 
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown. 
And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers ? 
Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children ? 
Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother 
Clarence ? 
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ? 

Q. Eliz, Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, 

Duch. Where is kind HastingiS? 
K. Rich, A flourish, trumpets ! — strike alarum, 
drums ! 
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women 
Rail on the Lord's anointed : Strike, I say. — 

[Flourish. Alarums, 
Either be patient and entreat me fair. 
Or with the clamorous report of war 
Thus will I drown your exclamations. 

^ Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak 
Whispers the o'er-fraaght heart, and bids it break.' 



Dtich. Art thou my son ? 

K. Rich. Ay ; I thank God, my fatl^er, and your- 

Duck, Then patiently hear my impatience. 

K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your con- 
dition ^7, 
That cannot brook the accent of reproof. 

Jhwh, O, let me speak. 

K, Rich, Do, then ; but I'll not hear. 

Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 

K. Rich. And brief, good mother ; for I am in 

Dtich. Art thou so hasty ? I have staid for thee, 
God knows, in torment and in agony. 

K. Rich, And came I not at last to comfort you ? 

Duch, No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well. 
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. 
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ; 
Tetchy^® and wayward was thy infancy; 
Thy school-days, frightful, desperate. Wild, and 

furious ; 
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous ; 
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred : 
What comfortable hour canst thou name. 
That ever grac'd me in thy company ? 

K. Rich, 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour^^, 
that call'd your grace 

'7 A spice or particle of joar disposition. So in Chapman's 
translation of the twentj-foarth Iliad : — 

' ' his cold blood embrac'd a fierj touch 
Of anger/ &c. 

**• Touchy, fretful. 

*^ I know not what to make of this, unless we suppose with 
Steevens that it is an allusion to some affair of gallantry of 
which the duchess had been suspected. There is no mention of 
any thing of the kind in the Chronicles. Malone conjectures 
that Humphrey Hour is merely used as a ludicrous periphrasis 


To breakfast once, forth of my company. 

If I be so disgracious in your sight. 

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. — 

Strike up the drum. 

Duck. I pr'ythee, hear me speak. 

K, Rich, You speak too bitterly. 

DtLch, Hear me a word ; 

For I shall never speak to thee again. 

jr. Rich. So. 

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi- 
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ; 
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, 
And never look upon thy face again. 
Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse ; 
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, 
Than all the c6mplete armour that thou wear'st! 
My prayers on the adverse party fight; 
And there the little souls of Edward's children 
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies. 
And promise Uiem success and victory. 
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ; 
Shame serves ^^ thy life, and doth thy death attend. 


Q, Elix, Though far more cause^ yet much less 
spirit to curse 
Abides in me; I say amen to her. [Going. 

K. Rich. Stay; madam, I must speak a word with 

for hour, like Tom Troth, for truth, in Gabriel Harvey's Letter 
to Spenser. There can hardly be any allusion iq the phrase 
of ' dining with Duke Humphrey/ used to express those who 
dined upon air, or passed their dinner hour in admiring his sup- 
posed monument in old St Paul's Cathedral. See Mr. Nares s 
Glossary, or a late edition of Hall's Satires by the writer of this* 
note, p. 62. 

® i: e. aecompaiines. 

M 2 


Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood 
For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard, — - 
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens ; 
And therefore l^vel not to hit their lives. 

K^ Rich. You have a daughter calFd — Elizabeth, 
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. 

Q. Eliz, And must she die for this ? O, let her live. 
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; 
Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed ; 
Throw over her the veil of infamy : 
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, 
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. 

K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, sbeis of royal blood. 

Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say — she is not so. 

K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth. 

Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers. 

K. Rich. Lo, at their births, good stars were 

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were con- 

K. Rich. All unavoided^^ is the doom of destiny. 

Q. Eliz. True, wtien avoided grace makes des- 
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death. 
If grace had i))ess'd thee with a fairer life. 

K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my 

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; aifd by their uncle 
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts. 
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: 
No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, 

" Unavoidable. Thas before: — 

' Whose unavoided eye is dangerous.' 

SC. IV. KING RICHARD lit. 127 

TiH it was wheitted on thy stone^hard heart ^| 
To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
But that still ^ use of giief makes wild grief tame. 
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys. 
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ; 
And I, in such a desperate bay of death, 
like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft. 
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise. 
And dangerous success of bloody wars. 
As I intend more good to you and yours, 
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd ! 

Q. £/tz. What good is cover'd with the face of 
To be discovered, that can do me good ? 

K, Rich, The advancement of your children, gentle 

Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their 
heads ? 

K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, 
The high imperial type of this earth's glory ^*. 

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it; 
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, 
Canst thou demise^ to any child of mine? 

^ This conceit seems to have been a fayoarite with Shak»- 
peare: — 

' Then hidst a thoasand dagg^ers in thy tboaghts, 
Which thoa hast whetted on thy stony heart.* 

King Henry VI. P. II. 
' Not on thy sole bat on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Then mak'st thy knife keen.' 

^ I. e. eouatant use. 

* A generation of stiU breeding thoughts.' 

King Richard III. 

^ i. e. the crotofi, the emblem of royalty. See note on King 
Henry VI. Part ill. Act i. Sc.4. 

^ To demise is to grantf from demittere, Lat. Bat as no Ex- 
ample of the ase of the word, except in legal instruments, offers 
itself, I cannot help thinking we shoftld read devise, with the 
second folio. 


K. Rich. Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all. 
Will I withal endow a child of thine ; 
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, 
Which, thou supposest, I hare done to thee. 
Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy 
Last longer telling than thy kindness* date. 

K. Rich, Then know, that from my soul, I love 

thy daughter. 
Q. EMz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her 

K. Rich. What do you think ? 
Q. Eliz, That thou dost love my daughter, from 
thy soul : 
So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers : 
And from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. 
. K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning : 
I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter. 
And do intend to make her queen of England. 
Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be 

her king ? 
K. Rich. Even he, that makes her qu^n : Wh6 

else should be ? 
Q.Eliz. What, thou? 
K. Rich. Even so : What think yoa 

of it, madani ? 
Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her ? 
K. Rich. That I would learn of you. 

As one being best acquainted with her humour. 
Q. Eliz, And wilt thou learn of me? 
K. Rich. Madam, with all my heart. 

Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her 
A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave, 
Edward, and York ; then, haply, will she weep : 
Therefore present to her, — as sometime Margaret 


Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood, — 

A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain 

The purple sap from her sweet brother's body. 

And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 

If this inducement move her not to love. 

Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ; 

Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, 

Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and, for her sake, 

Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. 

K. Rich, You mock me, madam ; this is not the 
To win your daughter. 

Q. Eliz, There is no other way ; 

Unless thou could'st put on some other shape. 
And not be Richard that hath done all this. 

K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her ? 

Q. EUiz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose 
but hate thee ^, 
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 

K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now 
amended ; 
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes. 
Which after hours give leisure to repent. 
If I did take the kingdom from your sons. 
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. 
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb. 
To quicken your increase, I will beget 
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
A grandam's name is little less in love. 
Than is the doting title of a mother; 

** Tjrwhitt saggested that the sense seemed to require we 
shoald read ' bat love thee' ironically. Mason proposed ' but 
hao€ thee/ which Steevens admitted into the text. ' It is by no 
means evident that this is spoken ironically (says Mr. Boswell), 
and, if not, the old reading affords a perfectly clear meaning. A 
virtaons woman would hate the man 'who thought to purchase 
her loye by the commission of crimes.' 


They are as children, but one step below. 
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans 
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow ^. 
Your children were vexation to your youth. 
But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
The loss, you have, is but — a son being king. 
And, by diat loss, your daughter is made queen. 
I cannot make you what amends I would. 
Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soul. 
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil. 
This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
To high promotions and gre&t dignity : 
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter, — wife. 
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset — brother ; 
Again shall you be member to a king, 
And all the ruins of distressful times 
Repaired with double riches of content. 
What ! we have many goodly days to see : 
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed. 
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl': 
Advantaging their loan, with interest 
Of ten times double gain of happiness. 
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go; 
Make bold her bashful years with your experience ; 
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ; 
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the^princess 
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys : 
And when this arm of mine hath ch^tised 
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, 
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come. 
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ; 

^ * £ndnr*d of her, for whom yon bid like sorrow.' Of as 
used for by ; bid is the past tense from bide. 


To whom I will retail^ my conquest won. 
And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. 
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say ? her father's 
Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle ? 
Or, he that slew her brothers, and her uncles ? 
Under what title shall I woo for thee. 
That God, the law, my honour, and her loye» 
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ? 
K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this al- 
. Q. Eliz, Which she shall purchase with still last- 
ing war. 
K. Rick. Tell her, the king, that may command, 

Q. Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King 

forbids ^9. 
K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. 
Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth. 
K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly. 
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last ^ ? 
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. 
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life 

K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, length* 

ens it. 
Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. 
K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low. 
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such 

K. Rich* Be eloquent in my behalf to her. 

* i. e. recount. See note on p. 71. 

* She ^eans that his crimes would render such a marriage 
oflfensiye to heaven. 

^ Yoong has borrowed this thought: — 

' Bnt saj, mj all, mj mistress, and mj friend. 
What day next week the' eternity shall end.* 


Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly 

K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving 

Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style. 
K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too 

quick t 
Q. Eliz. O, no, ,my reasons are too deep and 
dead; — 
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. 
K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ; that 

is past. 
Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings 

K^Rich. Now, by my George,. my garter, and 

my. crown, — 
Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishohour*d> and the third 

K. Rich. I swear. 

Q. Eliz. By nothing; for this is no oath. 

Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour ; 
Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue ; 
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory : 
If something thou would'st swear to be believ'd. 
Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. 
K. Rich. Now by the world, — 
Q. Eliz. Tis full of thy foul wrongs. 

K. Rich. My father's death, — 
Q« Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd 

K. Rich. Then, by myself,-^ 
Q. Eliz. Thyself is self misus'd. 

K. Rich. Why then, by God,— 
Q. EUz. God's wrong is most of all. 

If thou hadst feared to break an oath by him, 
The unity, the king thy brother made. 
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain. 


If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, 
The imperial metal, circling now thy head. 
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ; 
And both the princes had been breathing here. 
Which now, two tender bedfeUows for dust. 
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.. 
What canst thou swear by now ? 
K, Rich. By the time to come. 

Q. Eliz, That thou hast wronged in the time o'er- 
For I myself have many tears to wash 
Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. 
The children live, whose parents thou hast slaughter'd, 
Ungovern'd youth, to wait it in their age : 
The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd ! 
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. 
Swear. not by time to come; for that thou hast 
Misus'd ere used, by times ill us'd o'er past. 

K. Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent! 
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound ! 
Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours ! 

Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy rest ! 

Be opposite all planets of good luck 

To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love. 

Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 

I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter ! 

In her consists my happiness, and thine : 

Without her, follows to myself, and thee, 

Herself, the land, and many a christian soul, 

Death, desolation, ruin, and decay : 

It cannot be avoided but by this; 

It will. not be avoided, but by this. 

Therefore, dear mother (I must call you so). 

Be the attorney of my love to her. 

VOL. VII. N • 


Plead what I will be, not what I have been ; 
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve : 
Urge the necessity and state of times. 
And be not peevish ^^ found in great designs. 

Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus ? 

K, Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. 

Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself ? 

K, Rich. Ay, if yourself 's remembrance wroiig 

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. 

K.Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them : 
Where, in that nest of spicery '*, they shall breed 
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. 

Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will ? 

K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed. ' 

Q. Eliz, I go. — ^Write to me very shortly. 
And you shall understand from me her mind. 

K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so 

[Kissing her. Exit Q. Elizabeth. 
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing — woman ^! 
How now ? what news ? 

Enter Hatcjatv; Catesby following. 

Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast 
Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore 
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, 
XJnarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back : 
Tis thought, that Richmond is their admiral ; 
And there they hull, expecting but the aid 
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. 

'' Foolish. ^ Allading to the phoenix. 

^ Sach was the real character of this queen dowager, w^o 
wonld have married her daughter to King Richard, and did all 
in her power to alienate the marquis of Dorset, her son, from tli0 
earl of Richmond. 


K. Rich, Some lightfoot friend post to the duke 
of Norfolk^: 
Ratcliffy thyself, — or Catesby ; where is he ? 
Cafe. Here, my good lord. 
K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke. 

Cote. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. 
K. Rich. Rateliff, come hither : Postto Salisbury ; 
When thou com'st thither, — Dull, unmindful villain, 

[To Catesby. 
Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ? 
Cote. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' 
What from your grace I shall deliver to him. 
K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby; — Bid him levy 
The greatest strength and power he can make. 
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. 

Cote. I go. [Exit. 

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salis- 
K. Rich. Why, what would*st thou do there, be- 
fore I go ? 
Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before. 

Enter Stanley. 

K. Rich. My mind is chang'd. — Stanley, what 

news with you ? 
Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with 
the hearing ; 
Nor .none so bad, but well may be reported. 

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle I neither good nor bad ! 
What need'st thou run so many miles about, 

** Richard's precipitation and confusion is in this scene verf 
happily represented by inconsistent orders and sadden variation 
of opinion. 


When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? 
Once more, what news ? 

Stan. Richmond is on the seas^ 

K.Rich, There let him sink, and be the seas on him ! 
White liver'd runagate, what doth he there ? 

Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. 

K. Rich. Well, as you guess ? 

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and 
He makes for England, here to claim the crown. - 

K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword un- 
sway'd ? 
Is the king dead, the empire unpossessed ? 
What heir of York is there alive, but we ^ ? 
And who is England's king, but great York's heir ? 
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas ? 

Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. 
. K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege. 
You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. 
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. 

Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. 

K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him 
back ? 
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers ? 
Are they not now upon the western shore, 
Safe-c6nducting the rebels from their ships ? 

^ Richard asks this qaestiop in the' plenitude of power, and 
no one dares to answer him. Bat they whom he addresses, 
had thej not heen intimidated, might have told him that there 
was a male heir of the hoase of York alive, who had a better 
claim to the throne than he, Edward earl of Warwick, the onlj 
son of the nsorper's eldest brother, George dake of Clarence; 
bat Elizabeth, the eldest daaghter of Edward IV. and all her 
sisters had a better title than either of them. He had however 
been carefal to have the issue of King Edward pronoanced ille-' 
gitimate, and as the dake of Clarence had been attainted of higlk 
treason, he had some colour for his bravado. 


Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. 

K. Rich. Cold friends to me : what do they in the 
When they should senre their sovereign in the west? 

StanJThey have not been commanded,mighty king : 
Pleaseth your majesty to giye me leave, 
I'll muster up my friends ; and meet your grace. 
Where, and at what time, your majesty shall please. 

JT. Rich. Ay, ay, thou would'st be gone to join 
with Richmond : 
I will not trust you, sir. 

Stan. Most mighty sovereign. 

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful ; 
I never was, nor never will be false. 

K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, 
leave behind ' 
Your son, George Stanley : look your heart be firm. 
Or else his head's assurance is but frail. 

Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. 

[Exit Stanley. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, 
As I by friends am well advertised. 
Sir Edward Courteney, and the haughty prelate, 
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother^ 
With many more confederates, are in arms. 

Enter another Messenger. 

2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in 
And every hour more competitors^^ 
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. 

^ CompeiUora here means confederates. See note on The 
Two Gentlenten of Verona, Act ii. Sc. 6, p. 136. 




Enter another Messenger. 

3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham — 

K. Rich, Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs of 
death ? [He strikes him. 

There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 

3 Mess, The news I have to tell your majesty, 
Is, — that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, 
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; 
And he himself wander'd away alone, 
No man knows whither. 

K, Rich, O, I cry you mercy ^ 

There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. 
Hath any well advised friend proclaim'd 
Reward to him that brings the traitor in ? 

3 Mess, Such proclamation hath been ma,dey my 


Enter another Messenger. 

4 Mess^ Sir Thomas Lo vel,and lord marquis Dorset, 
Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in aiPms. 

But this good comfort bring I to your highness, — 
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest : 
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out b, boat 
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks. 
If they were his assistants, yea, or no ; 
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham 
Upon his party : he, mistrusting them, 
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. 
K, Rich. March on, march on, since we are up 
in arms; 
If not to fight with foreign enemies. 
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. 

Enter Catesby. 

Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken. 
That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond 


Is with a mighty power ^^ landed at Milford, 
Is colder news> but yet they^ must be told. 
K, Rich. Avray towards Salisbury ; while we rea- 
son here> 
A royal battle might be won and lost: — 
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought 
To Salisbury ; — the rest march on with me. [ExeunU 

SCENE V. A Room in Lord Stanley's Home. 

Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher 


Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from 
me: — 
That in the sty of this most bloody boar, 
My son George Stanley is frank'd ^ up in hold ; 
If I revolt, off goes young George's head ; 
The fear of that withholds my present aid. 
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now ? 

CAm. At Fembroke,or at Ha'rford-west,in Wales. 

^ The earl of Riohmond embarked with aboat two thousand 
men .at Harfleor, in Normandy, Angast 1, 1485, and landed att 
Milford Haven on the 7th. He directed his coarse to Wales, 
hoping the Welsh "wonld receive him cordially as their country^ 
'man, he haying been born at Pembroke, and his grandfather be- 
ing Owen Tndor, who married Katharine of France, the widow of 
King Henry V. 

** News was considered as plural by our ancient writers. So 
in Antony and Cleopatra, Act i. Sc. 1 : — 

■ * Att. NewSy my good lord, from Rome.— « 
Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony.' 
JSo ia Cavendish's Metrical Visions, p. 89 : — 

' Alas, these woftd newes made my hart agaste !' 

1 Sir Christopher Urswick, a priest, chaplain to the conntess 
-of Richmond, who was married to the Lord Stanley. This priest, 
the chronicles tell as, frequently went backwards and forwards, 
unsuspected, on messages between the conntess of Richmond and 
her husband and the young earl of Richmond, whilst he was pre- 
paring to make his descent on England. He was afterwards 
almoner to King Henry VII. and refused the bishopric of Nor- 
wich. He r^red to Hackney, where he died in 1627, and bis 
tomb is, I believe, still to be seen in the church there* ' 

' Vide note on p. 37, ante* 


Stan. What men of name resort to him ? 

Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier ; 
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley ; 
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, 
And Kice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ; 
And many other of great fame and worth : 
And towards London do they bend their course. 
If by the way they be not fought withal. 

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; commend me 
to him ; 
Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented 
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
These letters will resolve him of my mind. 
Farewell. [Gives papers to Sir Christopher^ 



SCENE I. Salisbury ^ An open Place. 

Enter the Sheriff, and Guard, with Buckingham^ 

led to execution^ 

Buck. Will not King Richard let me speak with 
him 2? 

Sher. No, my good lord; therefore be patient. 

1 There is reason to think that Buckingham's exeoutioii took 
.place at Shrewsbury, hitt this is not the place to discass the 


2 The reason why the dake of Backingham solicited an inter- 
yiew vriih Richard is explained in Ring Henry VIII. Act i :— 

* I would have play'd 

The part my father meant to act upon 
The usurper Richard : who, being at Salisbury, 
Made suit to come into his presence, which if granted. 
As he made semblance of his duty, would * 
Have put his knife into him.' 
See Holinshed, vol. ii. p. 1408, ed. 1577. 


Buck, Hastings, and Edward's children. Rivers, 
Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried 
By underhand corrupted foul injustice ; 
If that your moody discontented souls 
Do tiirough the clouds behold this present hour, 
Eyen for revenge mock my destruction ! 
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? 

Sher, It is, my lord. 

Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body'* 
This is the day, which, in King Edward's time, 
I wish'd might fall on me, when T was found 
False to his children, or his wife's allies : 
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall 
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ; 
This, this, All-Souls' day to my fearful soul. 
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs^. 
That high All-seer which I dallied with) 
Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head. 
And given in earnest what I begg*d in jest. 
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
To turn their own points on their masters* bosoms : 
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, — 
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow, 
Remember Margaret was a prophetess. — 
Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame ; 
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame *. 

[Exeunt Buckingham, Sfc. 

' The time to which the punishment of his injurioas practices 
or the wrongs done hy him was respited. 

* Johnson thinks this scene should he added to the fourth act, 
which wonld give it a more full and striking conclusion. In the 
original quarto copy, 1597, this play is not divided into acts and 
scenes: Malone suggests that the short scene hetween Stanley 
and Sir Christopher may have been the opening of the fifth act. 


SCENE TI. Plain near TamworA. 

Enter, with drum and coloursy Richmond, Ox- 
ford S Sir James BluntS Sir Walter 
Herbert, and Others, with Forces, marching. 

Riehm, Fellows in arms, and jny most loving 
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny. 
Thus far into the bowels of the land 
Have we march'd on without impediment ; 
And here receive we from our father Stanley 
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar. 
That spoird your summer fields, and fruitful vines. 
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his 

In your embowelPd bosoms, this foul swine 
Lies now even in the centre of this isle. 
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn : 
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march. 
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends. 
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace 
By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 

Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand 
swords ^, 
To fight against that bloody homicide. 

Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us. 

Blunt, He hath no friends, but who are friends 
for fear; 
Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. 

' John de Vere, earl of Oxford, a zealous Lancastrian, who, 
after a long confinement in Hammes Castle, in Pieardy, escaped 
in 1484, and joined Richmond at Paris. He oommanded the 
archers at the battle of Bosworth. 

' Sir James Slant had been captain of the Castle of Hammes» 
and assisted Oxford in his escape. 

' Allndin; to the proyerb, ' Contcientisa mille testes.* 


Richm. All for oiir vantage. Then, in God's 
name, inarch : 
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 


SCENE III. Bosworth Field. 

Enter King Richard, and Forces; the Duke of 
Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, and Others, 

K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in 
Bosworth field. — 
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ? < 

Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. 

K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk, 

Nor. Here, most gracious liege« 

K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks : Ha ! 
must we not? 

Nor. We must both give and take, my loving lord. 

K. Rich. Up with my tent: Here willl lieto-night^; 
[Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent. 
But where, to-morrow? — Well, all's one for that — 
Who hath descried the number of the traitors ? 

Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 

K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that account ^ : 
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength. 
Which they upon the adverse faction want. 
Up with the tent. — Come, noble gentlemen, 
Let us survey the vantage of the ground ; — 
Call for some men of sound direction ^ : — 

* Richard is reported not to hare slept in his tent on the 
night before the battle, bnt in the town of Leicester. 

* Richmond's forces are said to have been only fire thousand; 
and Richard's army consisted of aboot tvrelye thousand. But 
Lord Stanley lay at a small distance with three thousand men, 
and Richard may be supposed to have reckoned on them as his 
friends, though the event proved otherwise. 

* i. e. tried judgment, military skill. , 


Let's want no discipline, make no delay; 

For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. 

Enter, on the other side of the Field, Richmond, 
Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and other 
Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's 

' Richm, The weary sun hath made a golden set. 
And, by the bright track of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. — 
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. — 
Give me some ink and paper in my tent ; — 
111 draw the form and model of our battle. 
Limit ^ each leader to his several charge. 
And part in just proportion our small power. 
My lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, — 
And you. Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me : 
The earl of Pembroke keeps ^ his regiment; — 
Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him. 
And by the second hour in the morning 
Desire the earl to see me in my tent : 
Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me; 
Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know ? 

Blunt, Unless I have mista'en his colours much 
(Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done), 
Hi^ regiment lies half a mile at least 
South from the mighty power of the king. 

Richm* If without peril it be possible. 
Sweet Blunt, make some good means ^ to speak 

with him, 
And give him from me this most needful notie. 

^ Appoint. 

' I'll make so bold to call. 
For 'tis mj limited service.' Macbeth, 
^ Remains with. 
• ' i. e. contrive, take some pains or earnest measures. Thot 
in The Two Gentlemen of Verona : — 

' To make saeb means for her ai^ thon bast' done.' 


Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it; 
And so, God give you quiet rest to night ! 
Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, 
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business ; 
In to my tent, the air is raw and cold. 

[They withdraw into the Tent. 

Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, 
Ratcliff, and Catesby. 

K. Rich. What is't o'clock ? 

Cate. It's supper time, my lord : 

It's nine o^clock. 

K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. — 

Give me some ink and paper. — 
What, is my beaver easier than it was ? — 
And all my armour laid into my tent ? 

Cate. It is, my liege ; and all things are in rea- 

K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge ; 
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. 

Nor, I go, my lord. 

K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle 

Nor. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit^ 

K.Rich. Ratcliff, 

Rat. My lord? 

K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 

To. Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power 
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall 
Into the blind cave of eternal night. — 
•Fill me a bowl of wine.-r-Give me a Watch ^ : — 

[To Catesby. 

' 3j a wtUeh is most probably meant a watchrUght. The na- 
ture of which will appear from tiie following note of Sir Francis 
Kinaston upon Chancer's Troilos and Cressida, in the yerj \ 

VOL. VII. *0 


Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. — 
Look that my staves^ be sound, and not too heavy. 

Rat. My lord? 

K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Nor- 

Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself, 
Much about cock-shut ^^ time, from troop, to troop, 
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. 

eurioas rhimiog Latin Version of that poem which T possess in 
manascript. ' This word \mortef\ doUi plainel j intimate Jef- 
ferj Chaucer to have been an esquire of the body in ordinary to 
the king, whose office it is, after he hath ohardged and set the 
watch of the gard, to carry in the morter and to set it by the 
king's bed-side, for he takes from the cupboard a silver bason, 
and therin poures a litle water, and then sets a round cake of 
virgin wax in the middest of the bason, in the middle of which 
cake is a wicke of bnmbast, which being lighted bumes as a 
watchrHght all night by the king's bed-side. It hath, as I eon- 
oeiye, the name of morter for the likenes it hath when it is nere 
consumed unto a morter wherin you bray spices, for the flame 
first hollowing the middle of the waxe cake, which is next unto 
it, the waxe by degrees, like the sands in a houre glasse, runs 
eyenly from all sides to the middle to supply the wicke. This 
royal ceremony Chaucer wittily faines to be in Cresseid's bed- 
chamber, calling this kind of watchrUght by the name of morter, 
which very few courtiers besides esquires of the body (who only 
are admitted after ALL night is served to come into tiie king's 
bedehamber), do understand what is meant by it.' Rinaston was 
himself esquire of the body to Ring Charles I. Baret mentions 
' watching lamps, or candles ; lucernae vigiles :' and watcJung 
aauUes are mentioned in many old plays. Steevens says that he 
has seen them represented in some of the pictures [qu. prints ?] 
of Albert Durer. 

^ i. e. the staves or poles of his lances. It was the custom to 
carry more than one into the field. 

* Richard calls him tnelancholy because he did not join heartily 
in his cause. Holinshed says ' He stood still and mixed not io 
the battle, but was incontinently [after] received into favour [of 
Kichmond] and made of the counsaile.' 

^^ i. e. iwUigkt. Thus in Ben Jonson's Masque of Gypsies :'— 
' For you would not yesternight 
Riss him in the cock-shut light.' 

A ^och^kut wa« a Urge net stretched across a glade, and so sa*" 


K, Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of 
I have not that alacrity of spirit, 
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. — 
Set it down. — Is ink and paper ready ? 
Rat. It is, my lord. 

K. Rich. Bid my guard watch ; leave me. 

About the mid of night, come to my tent. 
And help to arm me. — Leave me, I say. 

[King Richard retires into his Tent. 
Exeunt Ratcliff and Catbsby. 

Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him, and 

Officers, 8fc. 

Enter Stanley. 

Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm ! 

Richm. All comfort that the dark night can aiford^ 
Be to thy person, noble father-in-laW ! 
Tell me, how fares our loving mother ? 

Stan. I, by attorney^*, bless thee from thy mother. 
Who prays continually for Richmond's good : 
So much for that. — ^The silent hours steal on. 
And flaky darkuess breaks within the east 
In brief, for so the season bids us be. 
Prepare thy battle early in the morning ; 
And put thy fortune to thei arbitrement 
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war, 
I, as I may (that which. I would, I cannot). 
With best advantage will deceive the time, 

pended apon poles as easily to be drawn together, and was em- 
ployed to catch woodcock^. These nets were chiefly used in the 
twilight of the evening, when woodcocks * take wing to go and 
get water, flying generally low ; and when they find any tho- 
roughfare, through a wood or range of trees, tliey yentare 
through.' The artificial* glade made for them to pass through 
were called cocJb-roads. Hence coch^hnt time and coekskut Ughi 
were used to express the eyening twilight. 
" i. e. by deputation. 


And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms : . 
But on thy side I may not be too forward. 
Lest, being seen, thy brother tender George ^^ 
Be executed in his father's sight : 
Farewell: The leisure ^^ and the fearful time 
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love. 
And ample interchange of sweet discourse. 
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon ; 
God give us leisure for these rites of love : 
Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed well ! 

Richm, Good lords, conduct him to his regiment : 
111 strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap; 
Lest leaden slumber peise^^ me down to-morrow, 
WJien I should mount with wings of victory : 
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. 

[Exeunt Lords, Sfc, with Stanley. 
O Thou ! whose captain I account myself. 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath„ 
That they, may crush down with a heavy fall 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! 
Make us thy ministers of chastisement. 
That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
To thee I do commend my watchful soul. 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ^^ ; 
Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still! ^Sleeps. 

'3 This is from Holinshed. The jonnf; nobleman, whom the 
poet calls George Stanley, was created Lord Strange in right of 
his wife by Edward IV. in 1482. 

*^ We have still a phrase equivalent to this, however harsh 
it may seen. ' I would do this if leisure wonid permit/ where 
leisure stands for want of leisure. Thas in another place :— - 

* More than I have said 

The leisure and enforcement of the time 
Forbids to dwell upon.' 

" Weigh. 

^ Thus in Romeo and Jaliet : — 

* thy eyes* windows foil 

Like death.' 

SC. 111. KINO RICHARD III. ' 149 

lite Ghost ^^ of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the 
Sixth, rises between the two Tents, 

Ghost* Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! 

[To King Richard. 
Think, how thoa stab'dst me in my prime of youth 
At Tewksbury ; Despair therefore, and die ! — 
Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls 
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: 
ELin J Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 

The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises. 

Ghost, When I was mortal, my anointed body 

[To King Richard. 
By thee was punched ^^ full of deadly holes : 
Think on the Tower, and me ; Despair, and die ; 
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. — 
Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror ! 

[To Richmond. 
Harry, that prophesy'd thou should'st be king*®. 
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep ; Live, and flourish ! 

^ The hint for this scene is furnished hj HolinshecT, who 
copies from Polydore Virgil. ' It seemed to him being asleepe, 
that he saw diverse ymages like terrible devilles which pulled 
and haled him, not suffef jnge him to take any quiet or reste. 
The which strange vision not so sodaynely strake his heart with 
a sodayne feare, but it stuffed his head with many busy and 
dreadful imaginations. And least that it might be suspected 
that he was abashed for fear of his enemies, and for that cause 
looked so piteously, be recited and declared to his familiar 
friends of the morning his wonderfnll yysion and fearefnll 
dreame.' The Legend of King Richard III. in The Mirror for 
Magistrates, and Drayton in the twenty-second Song of his Po- 
lyolbion, have passages founded upon Shakspeare's descriptiofi. 

^ The verb to punch, according to its etymology, was formerly 
used to prick or pierce with a sharp point. Thus Chapman, in 
his version of the sixth Iliad : — 

* — With a goad he ptmch^d each furious dame.' 
*^ See the prophecy in King Henry VI. Part iii. Act iv. Sc. 6. 


(150 KING RICHARD 111, ACT V. 

7%6 Ghost of Clarence, rues. 

Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! 

[To Kino Richard. 
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome ^^ wine. 
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death ! 
To-morrow in the battle think on me, 
And fall^^ thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die ! — 

Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, 

[To Richmond. 
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ; 
Good angels guard thy battle ! Live, and flourish ! 

The Ghosts o/* Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, rise, 

Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow^ 

[To King Richard. 
Rivers, that died at Fomfret ! Despair, and die ! 
Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair ! 

[To King Richard. 
Vattgh. Think upon Vaughan; and, with guilty 
Let fall thy lance ! Despair, and die ! — 

[To King Richard. 
All. Awake ! and think, our wrongs in Richard'is 
bosom [To Richmond. 

Will conquer him; — awake, and win the day! 

The Ghost of Hastings rises. 

Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; 

[To King Richard. 

*' i. e. teeming or superabundant wine. Shakspeare seems U> 
hare forgot that Clarence was killed before be was thrown into 
the Malmsey butt, and conseqoentlj could not be washed to 
death. I find ' fulsome habnndance' in Lidgate's Siege of Thebes, 
Part III. See vol. lii. p. 19, note 7. 

^ Fall is here a verb active, signifying to drop or let fall. As 
in Othello : — 

' If that the earth could teem with woman's tears. 
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.' 


Aod in a bloody battle end thy days ! 
Think on Lord Hastings ; and despair, and die ! — 
Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake ! 

[To Richmond.. 
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake ! 

Tlie Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. 

Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the 
Let us be lead within thy bosom,. Richard, 
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death ! 
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die. — 

Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy ;' 
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
Live, and beget a happy race of kings ! 
£dward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. 

The Ghost of Queen Anne rises^ 

Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne 
thy wife. 
That never slept a quiet hour with thee. 
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations ; 
To-/norrow jn the battle think on me. 
And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die !■?— • 

Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; . 

[To Richmond. 
Dream of success and happy victory ; 
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 

The Ghost (f Buckingham rises. 

Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the 
crown; _ [To King Richard. 

The last was I that felt thy tyranny: 
O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
And die in terror of thy guiltiness ! 
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and d,eath ; 


Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! — 
I died for hope^S ere I could lend thee aid; 

[To Richmond. 
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismayed : 
God, and good angels fight on E/ichmond's side ; 
And E/ichard falls in height of all his pride. 

[TAe Ghosts vanish. King Richard 
starts out of his dream. 
K, Rich. Give me another horse, — ^bind up my 
wounds, — 
Have mercy, Jesu!— Soft; I did but dream. — 

coward conscience, how dost thou aiBict me ! — 
The lights bum blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: 
Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I ^^. 

Is there a murderer here ? No ; — Yes ; I am : 
Then fly,— What, from myself? Greatreason: Why? 
Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself? 

1 love myself. Wherefore? for any good, 
That I myself have done ui^to myself? 

O, no : alas, I rather hate myself, 

For hateful deeds committed, by myself. 

I am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. 

Fool, of thyself speak well : — Fool, do not flatter. 

^ Buckingham's hope of aiding Richmond induced him to 
take up arms: he lost his life in consequence, and therefore 
may be 6aid to haye died /or hope 3 hope being the cauat which 
led to that event. 

^ There is in this, as in many of the poet's speeches of pas^- 
sion, something yerj trifling, and something yerj striking. Ri- 
chard's debate, whether he should quarrel with himself, is too 
long continued ; but the subsequent exaggeration of his crimes 
is truly tragicaJ. — Johnson. 

Steevens conjectures that this and the twenty following lines 
were crossed out of the stage manuscript by Shaksp^are himself, 
and afterwards restored by the original but tasteless editor of 
this play* Every one must wish with Ritton that they could be 
omitted, or degraded to the margin. 


My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree, 
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; 
All several sins, all us'd in. each degree, 
Throng to* the bar, crying all — Guilty ! guilty ! 
I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me; 
And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — 
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I nayself , 
Find in myself no pity to myself. 
Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd 
Came to my tent: and every ^ne did threat 
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of E/ichard. 

Enter IIatcliff. 

Rat. My lord, . 

K. Rich. Ty ho's there ? 

Rat. Ratcliff, my lord ; 'tis 1. The early village 
flath twice done salutation to the mom : 
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. 

K.Rich, O, Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful 
What thinkest thou ? will our friends prove all true 7 

Rat. No doubt, my lord. 

K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear, — 

Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. 

K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night 
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, 
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, 
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. 
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper. 
To hear, if any mean to shrink from me. 

[Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff^ 


Richmond wakes. Enter Oxford and Others. 

Lords. Good morrow> Richmond. 

Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentle- 
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here* 

Lords. How have you slept, my lord ? 

Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding 
That ever enter'd in a drowsy head. 
Have I since your departure had, my lords. 
Methought, their soul^, whose bodies Richard mur- 

Caine to my tent, and cried — On ! victory ! 
I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
How far into the morning is'it, lords? 

Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 

Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give di- 
rection. — [He advances to the troops. 
More than I have said, loving countrymen. 
The leisure and enforcement of the time 
Forbids to dwelJ on : Yet remember this, — 
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side : 
The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls. 
Like high rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces ; 
Richard except, those, whom we fight against. 
Had rather have us win, than him Uiey follow. 
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, 
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ; 
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood established ; 
One that made means ^^ to come by what he hath, 

^ Vide note on p. 144. Made means here ii aied u in the 
passage there cited from The Two Gentiemen of Verona, and 
signifies made each interest, used such dhingenuous measures. 


And slaughtered those that w;ere the means to help 

A hase foul stone, made precious by the foil 
Of England's chair^^, where he is falsely set; 
One that hath ever been God's enemy : 
Then, if you fight against God's enemy, 
God will, injustice, ward you as his soldiers; 
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down. 
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain ; 
If you do £ght against your country's foes. 
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ; 
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives. 
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; 
If you do free your children from the sword. 
Your children's children quit^ it in your age. 
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights. 
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords ; 
For me, the ransom ^^ of my bold attempt 
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face ; 
But. if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully; 
God, and Saint George^ ! Richmond, and victory ! 


Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Attendants, 

and Forces. 

jr. Rich, What said Northumberland, as touch- 
ing Richmond ? 
Rat* Tb&t he was never trained up in arms. 

** England's chair is the throne. The allusion is to the prac- 
tice of setting gems of little worth, with a bright coloured foil 
under them. Thus in a Song in England's Helicon: — 
' False stones hjfoUes have manj one abus'd/ 

^ Requite. 

* i. e. the /ne paid by me in atonement for mj rashness. 
*^ Saint George was the common crj of the English soldiers 
when they charged the enemy. 


K.-Rith, He said the truth: And what said Sur* 
rey then ? 

Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for onr pur- 

K. Rich, He was i^ the right ; and so, indeed, it is. 

[Clock strikes. 
Tell the clock there. — Give me a calendar.— 
Who saw the sun to-day? 

Rat. Not I, my lord. 

Ki Rich. Then he disdains to shine ; for, by the 
He should have brav^jd^ the east an hour ago : 
A* black day will it be to somebody. — 

Rat. My lord ? 

K: Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day ; 

The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. 
I would, these dewy tears were from the ground. 
Not sliine to-day ! Why, what is thalt to me, 
More than to Richmond ? for the self-same heaven, 
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. 

Enter Norfolk. 

Nor. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the 

K. Rich. Come, bustle,' bustle; -^Caparison my 
horse; — 
CM up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: — 
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain^ 
And thus my battle shall be ordered. 
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length. 
Consisting equally of horse and foot; 

^ Steevem's notion is a strange one, that braved here means 
made ii splendid or fine. The' common signification of the old verb 
to brave was not what he states. it to be — ' to challenge or set ai 
defiance;* bat ^to took aloft, and go gaily, desiring to have the 
cpreemintnce.' This is old Baret's definition, which explains the 
text better than Mr. Steeyens has done. 


Our archers shall be .placed in the midst : 
John duke of Norfolk^ Thomas earl of Surrey, 
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. 
They thus directed, we ourself will follow 
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side 
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. 
This, and Saint George to boot ^!— What think'st 
thou, Norfolk? 

Nor. A good direction, warlike ^oyereign. — ' 
This found I on my tent this morning. 

[Giving a scrowl, 

K. Rich. Jocky of Norfolk^ he not too bold, [reads. 
For JHckon^ thy master is bought and sold. 
A thing devised by the enemy. — 
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge: 
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls ; 
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe ; 
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. 
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell; 

If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. 

What shall I say more than I have inferred ? 
Remember whom you are to cope withal; — 
A sort'^ of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, 
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants, , 
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth 
To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction. 
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest; 
You haying lands, andbless'd with beauteous wives, 

' ^ i.e. ' this, and tuperadd to this, Saint George on our side.* 
The phrase, like Saint George to. borrow, which Holinshed pats 
into the mouth of Richard before the battle, is a kind of inyo- 
catioD to the saint to act as protector ; Saint George to^lmrrow 
meaning Saint George be our pledge or security. See Richard- 
son's Philological Inquiries, 4to, 1815, p. 65. 

^ JHchon is the ancient familiarization of Richard, 

^* Cpmpany. 



They would restrain ^^ the one, 'distain the other. 
And who doth lead them, but a paltry lellow, 
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's^ cost? 
A milk-sop, one that never in his life 
Felt so much cold as orer shoes in snow ? 
Let's wiiip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, 
These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives ; 
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit. 
For want of means, poor rats, had bitng'd themselves : 
If we be donqiier'd, let men conquer us. 
And not these bastard Bretagnes ; whom our fathers 
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thumji'd. 
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame. 
Shall these enjoy our lands t lie with our wives? 
Kavlsh our daughters? — Hark, I hear their drum. 

[Drum afar aff^. 
Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen ! 
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! 
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; 
Amaze the welkin witih your broken staves^! 

^ To restrain is to abridge, to diminish, to withhold from* 
Thus in Cymbeline : — 

* Me of ID J lawful pleasure the re9trQin*d, 
And praj'd me oft forbearance.' 

^ Thas Holinshed: — 'Yon see further, how a company of 
traitors, thieres, outlaws, and nmagates, be aiders and partakers 
of this featf aad enterpns^. And to begui with the ewl oi Bioh- 
mond, captaine of this rebellion, heia a Welsh milksop, broug^bt 
up by my tnoother^s means and mine, like a captive in a close 
cage in the conrt of Francis duke of Britaine,' p. 756. Hriitis- 
bed copied this verbatim from Hall, edit 1648, fol. 64 ; bat his 
priater has given us by aecident the word wutother instead of 
hroiker; as it is in the original, and oagpht to be in Shakspeare. 
In the first edition of Holinshed the word is rightly printed 
broker / So that this drcnmstaBce not only shows that the poet 
fellows Holinshed, bet points out the edition used by him. 

^ Fright the skies with the shivers of your lances. A similar 
idea is more tamely expressed in W. Smith's Palsgrave, 1613 : — 
' ' Spears flew in splinters^half the way to heaven.' 


EiUer a Messenger. 

What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power? 

Mess, My lord, he doth deny to come. 
. K. Rich, Off instantly with his son George's head. 

Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh ^ ; 
After the battle let George Stanley die. 

K. Rick, A thousand hearts are great within my 
bosom : 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes ; 
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Another part of the Field. 

Alarum. Excurgions. Enter Norfolk, and 
Forces; to him Catesby. 

Cate. Rescue, my lotd of Norfolk, rescue, rescue ! 
The king enacts more wonders than a man. 
Daring an opposite to every danger^; 
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, 
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death : 
Rescue^ fair lord, or else the day is lost ! 

^ There was a large marsh in Bosworth plain between the 
two armies. Henrj passed it, and made such a disposition of 
his forces that it served to protect his right wing. Bj this 
movement he gained also another point, that his men shoald en- 
gage with the son behind them, and in the faces of his enemies ; 
a matter of great consequence when bows and arrows were in 

> L e. daringly opposing ktmsey', or offering himself as an oppo- 
nent to every danger. Shakspeare uses opposite for opponent in 
Twelfth Night, and several other places. And Marston, in his 
Antonio and Mellida, 1602 : — 

' Myself, myself, will dare all oppositesJ 


Alarum. Enter Kino Richard. 

K, Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a 

horse ! 
Cate. Withdraw, my lord. 111 help you to a horse. 
K. Rick. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast. 
And I will stand the hazard of the die : 
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; 
Five have I slain to-day, instead of him ^ : — 
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ^ ! ' 


Alarums. Enter King Rjohard and Richmond ; 
and exeunt Jighting. Retreat, and flourish. Then 
enter Richmond, Stanley, beafing the Crown, 
vdth divers other Lords, and Forces. 

Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victo- 
rious friends ; 
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. 

^ Shakapeare had employed this incident with historical pro- 
priety in the First Part of King Henrj IV* He had here also 
good ground for his poetical exaggeration. Richard, according 
to Poljdore Virgil, was determined if possible to engage with 
Richmond in single combat. For this purpose he rode farionslj 
to that quarter of the field where the earl was; attacked his 
standard bearer. Sir William Brandon, and killed him; then 
assaulted Sir John Chenj, whom he overthrew. Having thus 
at length cleared his way to his antagonist, he engaged in single 
combat with him, and probably would have been victorious, but 
that at that instant Sir William Stanley with three thousand 
men joined Richmond's army, and the royal forces fled with great 
precipitation. Richard was soon afterwards overpowered by 
numbers, and fell, fighting bravely to the last moment. 

' In the old interlude on the subject of Richard III. which 
Mr. Boswell printed at the end of this play, this line stands : — 

' A horse ! a horse ! a fresh horse !' 
Burbage, the alter Boicius of Camden, appears to have been the 
original Richard. Bishop Corbet, in his Iter Boreale, introduces 
his host at Bosworth describing the battle, and 

' when he would have say'd King Richard died. 

And call'd A horse ! a horse ! — he Burhage cried.* 


StaH. Courageous Richmoad, well ^ast thou ac- 
quit thee ! 
Loy here, this loog usurped royalty. 
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch 
Have I plttck'd off, to grace thy brows withal ; 
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. 

Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all ! — 
But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living? 

Stan, He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town ; 
Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. 

Richm. What men of name are slain on either side ? 

Stan, John duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, 
Sir Kobert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. 

Richm, Inter their bodies as becomes their births* 
Proclum a pardon to the soldiers fled. 
That in submission will return to us ; 
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament. 
We will unite the white rose with the red :-— 
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, 
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity ! — 
What traitor hears me, and says not, — amen ? 
England hath long been mad, and scarred herself; 
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, 
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son. 
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire ; . 
All this divided York and Lancaster, 
Divided, in their dire division. — 
O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, 
The true succeeders of each royal house. 
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together ! 
And let tl^eir heirs (God, if thy will be so), 
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace. 
With snuling plenty, and fair prosperous days ! 
Abate ^ the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, 

* i. e. diminish, or take awftj. 

P 2 


That would reduce ^ these bloody days again ! 
And make poor England weep in streams of blood ! 
Let them not live to taste this land's increase, 
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace ! 
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again ; 
That she may long live here, God say — Amen. 


A To reduce u to bring back ; an obsolete sense of the word, 
derived from its Latin original, redaco. ' The momjnge for- 
sakyng the golden bed of Titan, reduced the desjred day.* — 
Eurialus and Lucretiaj 1560. 

This is one of the most celebrated of onr author's performances ; 
yet I know not whether it has not happened to him as to others, 
to be praised most wheo praise is not most deserred. That this 
play has scenes noble in themselves, and very well contrived to 
strike in the exhibition, cannot be denied. Bat some parts are 
trifling, others shocking; and some improbable. — Johnson. 

Malone says, he ' agrees with Dr. Johnson in thinking that 
this play, from its first exhibition to the present hoar, has 
been estimated greatly beyond its meritft/ He attributes (bat 
I think erroneously) its popularity to the detestation in which 
Richard's character was held at tbe time Shakspeare wrote, 
and to the patronage of Queen Elizabeth, ' who was pleased at' 
seeing King Henry VII. placed in the only favourable light 
in which he could be placed on the scene.' Steevens, in the 
following note, has stated the true grounds of the perpetual 
popularity of the plaj, which can only be attributed to one 
cause — the wonderful dramatic effect produced by the character 
of Richard.— S. W. S. 

I most cordially join with Dr. Johnson and Mr. Malone in 
their opinions; and yet, perhaps, they have overlooked one 
cause of the success of Uiis tragedy. The part of Richard is, 
perhaps beyond all others, variegated, and consequentiy favour- 
able to a judicious performer. It comprehends, indeed, a. tract 
of almost every species of character on the stage : the' hero, 
the lover, the statesman, the bufibon, the hypocrite, the har- 
dened and repenting signer, &c. are to be found within its com- 
pass. No wonder, therefore, that tbe discriminating powers of 
a Burbage, a Garrick, and a Henderson, should at different 
periods have given it a popularity beyond other dramas of the 
same author. — Steevens. 


KalharUie. Sir, I mMt hambtj' praj joa to delivc 
Tbi» to m; iord tb« king. 

Cspmam, Ho>t williog, nadun. 


mm Ifi^ntn tbe (Si^tb* 


It is, the opinion of Johnson, Steevens, and Malone, that this 
plaj was written a short time before the death of Qaeen Sliza- 
beth, which happened on the 24th of March, 1602-3. The 
elogiam on King Jaines, which is blended with the panegyric of 
Elizabeth in the last scene, was evidently a stibseqnent inser- 
tion, after the succession of the Scottish monarch to the throne : 
for Shakspeare was too well acquainted with Oourts to compli- 
ment, in the lifetime of Queen Elizabeth, her presumptive suc- 
cessor ; of whom, history informs us, she was not a little jealous* 
That the prediction concerning King James was added after Ihe 
death of the queen, is still more clearly evinced, as Dr. Johnson 
has remarked, by the awkward manner in whictt it is connected 
with the foregoing and subsequent lines. 

After having lain by some years, unacted, probably on ac- 
count of the costliness of its exhibition, it was revived in 1613^ 
under the title of ' All is True,' with new decorations, and a 
new Prologue and Epilogue : and this revival took place on the 
very day, being St. Peter's, on the which the Globe Theatre was 
burnt down. The fire was oceasioned, as it is said, by the di»^ 
charge of iome small pieces of ordnance called chambers in the 

164 KING HENRY Till. 

scene where King Henrj is represented as arriving at Cardinal 
Wolsey's gate at Whitehall, one of which, being injudicionslj 
managed) set fire to the thatched roof of the theatre *. Dr. John- 
son first suggested that Ben Jonson might have supplied the 
Prologue and Epilogue to the plaj upon the occasion of its 
revival. Biv Fanner, Steevens, and Malone, suj^ort his (pinion ; 
and even attribute to him some of the passages of the plaj. 

Mr. Gifford has controverted this opinion of Jonson having 
been the author of the Prologue and Epilogue of this plaj, and 
thinks the play which was performed under the title of AU is 

* The oirpumstanoe is recorded by the continnator of Stowe ; 
and in a MS. Letter of Thomas Lorkin. to Sir Thomas Pucker- 
ing, dated London, this last of June, 161 3, it is thus mentioned : 
' No longer. since than yesterday, while Bourbage his companj 
were acting at the Globe the play of Henry VIII. and there, 
shooting of certayne chambers in way of triumph, the fire catch- 
ed,* &c.— MS. Harl. 7002. 

So in a letter ttom John Cfaamberlaine to Sir Ralph Win- 
wood, dated London, 8th July, 161S : — * But the burning of tk» 
Globe, or PUsglumsty on the Bankside, on St Peter's day, oabnot 
escape yon ; which fell out by a peale of chambers (that I know 
not jxj^oa what occasion were to be used in the play), the tampin 
or stopple of one of them lighting in the thatch that covered the 
house, burn'd it tQ the ground in less than two hours, with a 
dwelling-house adjoining ; and it was a great marvaile and faire 
grace of God that the people had so little harm, having but two 
narrow doors to get out at.'— ^TTtmooocfA Memorials, vol. iii. 
p. 469. 

The event ii also recorded by Sir Henry Wotton, in his letter 
of the 2d of July, 1613, where he says it was at ' a new play, 
acted by the king's players at the Bank's Side, called AU is 


r™* wu ■ diitiDct perfonouae, uid doI Sh&kip«re'i Hemy 
the Eighth. To Ihi, it h» been w.wered, ■ Th,t the Prolopw, 
which h» Blwa;g accompMied Shakspeare's drama from il» 
first pubUcation in 162S, mMifestlj and repeaUdlj aUudu lo 
the lilU of tb« plaj which wai repreaeiited on the 29th of June, 
1B13, and which we know to haie been founded on Ihe higlory 

Tne, representing nme principal pieces of the reign of Henrj 
the Eighth.'— Jte%<fB WoUai, p. 42S, Ed. id. 

So moeh baring been said of the Globe Theatre, the reader 
irill not be displeased to see a rode piolnre of it from Ihe old 
Long View of LondoD, printed al Antwerp in the reign of Eli- 


of King Henry the Eighth, affonLi a gtroiig proof of th«ir iden- 
tity, u 44)pears by the following pasiages :-- 

* Sach, as giye 

Their money oat of hope they may helieye. 
May here find tnUh too/ &c. 

* Crentle readers know 

To rank onr chown truth with such a show 
As fool and fight is/' &c. 

' To make that only true we now intend.' 

And though Sir Henry Wotton mentions it as a new play, we 
have Stowe and Lorkin who call it ' The play of Henry the 

' That the Prologue and Epilogue were not written hy Shak- 
speare is, I think, clear from internal evidence,' says Mr. Bos- 
well; to whose opinion I have no hesitation in sahscribing: 
bat it does not follow that they were the production of Ben 
Jonson's pen. That gentleman has clearly shown that there 
was no intention of covertly sneering at Shakspeare's other 
works in this prologue ; but that this play is opposed to a rude 
kind of farcical representation on the same subject by Samuel 
Rowley (see the first' note on the Prologue). This play, or 
interlude, which was printed in 1005, is probably referred to in 
the fbllowing entry on the books of the Stationers' Company : — 
' Natlianiel Butter, Feb. 12, 1604, That he get good allowance 
for the EnterUtde of King Henry VIII. before he begin to print 
it; ahd with the warden's hand to yt, he is to have the same 
for liis copy.' Stowe has observed that ' Robert Greene had 
written somewhat on the same story / but there is no evidence 
that it was in a dramatic form : it may have been something^ 
historical, and not by the dramatic poet of that name; as Stowe 


cites the anthorltj of Robert Greene, with Robert Bmn, Fabian, 
&c. in other places of his Chronicle. 

This historical drama comprises a period of twelve years, 
commencing in the twelfth year of King Henry VIII. (1521), 
and ending with the christening of Eliaabeth in 1533. Hie 
poet has deviated from history in placing the death of Queen 
Katharine before the birth of Elizabeth, for in fact Katharine 
did not die till 1536. In constrocting his scenes he has availed 
himself largely of the eloquent narrative of Wolse/s faithful 
servant and biographer, George Cavendish, as copied by the 
Chronicles ; and indeed the pathos of the Cardinal's dying scene 
is almost as effective in the simple narrative of Cavendish as 
in the play. The 'fine picture which the poet has drawn of the 
suffering and defenceless virtue of Queen Katharine* and the 
just and spirited, though softened, portrait he has exUbited of 
the impetuous and sensual character of Henry, are above all 
praise. It has been justly said that ' this play contains little 
action or violence of passion, yet it has e<Hisiderable unterest oi 
a more mild and thoughtful cast, and some of the most striking 
passages that are to be found in the poet's works.' 


King Henry the EioerH. 

Cardinal Wolsey. Cardinal Campeius. 

Capucius, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles V. 

Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Duke of Norfolk. Duke of Buckingham. 

Duke of Suffolk. Earl qf Surrey. 

Lord Chamberlain. Lord Chancellor. 

Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester. 

Bishop of Lincoln. Lord Abergavenny. Lord Sands. 

Sir Henry Guildford. Sir Thomas Lovell. 

Sir Anthony Denny. Sir Nicholas Vaux. 

Secretaries io Wolsey. 

Cromwell, Servant to Wolsey. 

Griffith, Gentleman Usher to Queen Katharine. 

Three other Gentlemen. 

Doctor Butts, Physician to the King. 

Garter, King at Arms, 

Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham. 

Brandon, and a Sergeant at Arms. 

Door-keeper of the Council Chamber, Porter, and Ma Man, 

Page to Gardiner. A Crier. 

Queen Katharine, Wife to King Henry, cftertoards divorced, 
Anne Bullen, her Maid of Honour ; qfterwards Queen. 
An old Lady, Friend to Anne Bullen. 
Patience, Woman to Queen Katharine. 

Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows; Women ait- 
tending upon the Queen; Spirits, which appear to her; 
Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants. 

SCENE — chiefly in London and Westminster : ouce, ai 



I COME no more to make you laugh ; things now^ 

That bear a weighty and a serious brow, 

Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe. 

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow. 

We now present. . Those that can pity, here 

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ; 

The subject will deserve it. Such, as give 

Their money out of hope they may believe. 

May here find truth too. Those, that come to see 

Only a show or two, and so agree. 

The play may pass ; if they be still, and willing, 

I'll undertake, may see away their shilling 

Richly in two short hours. Only they. 

That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, 

A noise of targets ; or to see a fellow 

In a long motley coat, guarded^ with yellow. 

Will be deceived : for, gentle hearers, know. 

To rank pur chosen truth with such a show 

' i. e. faced or trimmed. This long modej coat was the usual 
dress of a fool. See Mr. Douce's dissertation on the Fools of 

The Prorogue and Epilogue to this play are apparently not 
by the hand of Shakspeare. They have been attributed to Ben 
Joason ; but this opinion is controyerted by Mr. Gifford. The 
intention of the writer (says Mr. Boswell) was to contrast the 
historical truth and taste displayed in the present play with the 
performance of a contemporary dramatist, ' When you see me 
you know me, or the. famous Chronicle of King Henry the 
Eighth^ &c. by Samuel Rowley/ in which Will Summers, the 
jester, is a principal character. There are other incidents in 
this ' merry bawdy pkaff* besides the perversion of historical 
facts, which make it more than probable that it is here alluded 



As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting 

Our own brains, and the opinion^ that we bring, 

(To make that only true we now intend). 

Will leave us never an understanding friend, 

"Therefore, for goodqess' sake, and as you are known 

The first and happiest^ hearers of the town. 

Be sad, as we would make ye : Think, ye see 

The very persons of our noble story, 

As they were living; think, you see them great. 

And followed with the general throng, and sweat, 

Of thousand friends; then in a moment, see 

How soon this mightiness meets misery ! 

And, if you can be merry then, I'll say, 

A man may weep upon his wedding day. 

^ Opinion seems hw^ to mean character; aft in King HenrjIV. 
Part I. Act Y. Sc. 4 ''-■'* Tbon hast redeemed thj lost opmiomJ 
To realize that opinion of character is our present object, not to 
forfeit it by introdncing absurdities. 

' JStqtpiest being her« used in a Latin sense for propitum» or 
favourable, * Sis bonus ofodixq^ue tuis !' has been thought a raa* 
son for attributing this Prologue to Jonson ; but we hare shown 
that Shakspeare often uses words in a hutin sense. 



SCENE I. Iiondon. An Antechamber in the 


Enter the DUKE of Norfolk^ at one door; at the 
other, the DuKBof*BucKiMOHAM, and the Lord 
Abergavenny ^ 


Good morrow, and well met. How have you done^ 
Since last we saw in France ? 

Nor. I thank your grace: 

Healthful; and eyer since a fresh admirer 
Of what I saw there. 

Buch, An untimely ague 

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when 
Those suns of glory ^, those two hghts of men, 
Met in the vale of Arde. 

Nor. Twixt Guynes and Arde ^ : 

^ George Nevilli who married Mary, d&aghter of Edward 
Stafford, duke of Buckingham. 

? Pope has borrowed this phrase in his Imitation of Horace's 
Epistle to AugnstUB, ver. 22 : — 

" Those suns of glory please not till thej set.' 

^ Gnynes then belonged to tiie En'glish, and Arde (Arires) to 
the French ; they are towns of Picardj : the -valley where 
Henry VII. and Francis I. met lies between them. 


I was then present, saw them salute on horseback ; 
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung 
In their embracement, as^ they grew together; 
Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have 

Such a compounded one? 

JSiick, All the whole time 

I was my chamber's prisoner. 

Nor^ Then you lost 

The view of earthly glory : Men might say. 
Till this time, pomp was single; but now married 
To one above itself. Each following day 
Became the next day's master, till the last 
Made former wonders it's ^ : To-day, the French, 
All clinquant^, all in gold, like heathen gods. 
Shone down the English : and, to-morrow, they 
Made Britain, India : every man, that stood, 
Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were 
As cherubins, all gilt: the madams too, 
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear 
The pride upon them, that their very labour 
Was to them as a painting : now t\ns mask - 
Was cry'd incomparable ; and the ensuing night 
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings, 
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, 
As presence did present them ; him in eye, 

* As for as if. We have the same image in Shakspeare's 
Venus and Adonis : 

* a sweet embrace 

Incorporate then tfaej seem ; face grows to face.' 

^ Dies diem docet. Every day learned something from the 
preceding, till the concluding day collected all the splendonr of 
all the former shows. 

' i. e. glittering, shining. Clarendon uses the word in his de- 
scription of the Spanish Juegos de Toros, And in a Memorable 
Masque, &c. performed before King James at Whitehall, in 
1613, at the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth : — 

* his buskins clinquant as his other attire.* 


Still him in praise : and, ^being present both^ 
'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discemer 
Durst wag his tongue in censure 7. When these suns 
(For so they phrase them) by their heralds chal- 
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous 

Being now seen possible enough, got credit. 
That Bevis® was believ'd. 

Buck. O, you go far. 

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect 
In honour honesty, the tract of eyery thing 
Wotdd by a good discourser lose some life, 
Which action's self Wfis tongue to. All was royal ; 
To the disposing. of it nought rebelled. 
Order gave each thing view; the office did 
Distinctly his full function^. 

Buck. W^ho did guide, 

I mean, who set the body and the limbs 
Of this g^eat sport together, as you guess? 

Nor. One, certes^^, that promises no element ^^ 
In such a business. 

^ 1. e. in judgment, which had the nohlest appearance. So 
Drjden : — 

' Two chiefs 

So match'd as each seemed worthiest when alone.' 

^ The old romantic legend of Bevis of Hampton. This Bevis 
(or Beavois) a Saxon, was for his prowess created earl of South* 
tmpton by William the Conqueror. See Camden's Britannia. 

' The ooorse of these triumphs, however well related, must 
lose in the description part of that spirit and energy which were 
expressed in the real action. The commission for regulating 
Uieni was wdl executed, ' and gave exactly to erery particular 
person and action the proper place. 

*® Certtt, i. e. certainly, is here used as a monosyllable. 

^^ No initiation, no previous practice. Elements are ike first 
principles of thmgst or rudiments <tf hmwkdgt. The word is here 
applied, not without a catachresis, to a person. 



Bftck* I pray yoir, who» my lord? 

Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretioii 
Of the right reverend cardinal of York. 

Buck. The deyil speed him ! no man's pie is free'd 
From his ambitious finger. What had he 
To do in these fierce^* vanities? I wonder. 
That such a keech^^ can with his very bulk 
Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun. 
And keep it from the earth. 

Nor. Surely, sir. 

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends ; 
For, being not propp'd by ancestry (whose grace 
Chalks successors tlieir way), nor call'd upon 
!f or high feats done to the crown ; neither allied 
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like. 
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note. 
The force of his own merit makes his way ; 
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys 
A place next to the king. 

Aber. I cannot tell 

What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye 
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride. 
Peep through each part of him : Whence has he that 7 

*' Johnson remarks that fierce is here used, like the French 
fier, for proud; and Stee?ens observes that the Puritan, in Ben 
Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, says, the hobby-horse ' is a fierce 
and rank idol.' Our ancestors appear to have used the word in 
the sense of arrogant^ outrageous : and the use of the Latin ferox 
is as likely to have suggested it as the French fier. The word 
has a different meaning in the passage cited from Timon of 
Athens, Act iv. Sc. 4. See note there. In the Rape of Lncrece 
we have — 

* ' Thy violent vanities can never last.' 

" A round lump of fat. The Prince calls Falstaff taUow-keeck 
in the First Part of King Henry IV. Act ii. Sc. 4. It has been 
thought that there was some allusion here to the Cardinal, being 
reputed the son of a butcher. We have * Goodwife Keechy the 
butcher's wife,' mentioned by Dame Quickly, in King Henry IV. 
Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1. 


If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ; * 
Or has given all before, and he begins 
A new hell in himself. 

Buck. Why the devil. 

Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, 
Without the privity o' the king, to appoint 
Who should attend on him? He makes up the file ^* 
Of all the gentry ; for the most part such 
Too, whom as great a charge as little honour 
He meant to lay upon ; and his own letter. 
The honourable board of council out. 
Must fetch him in he papers ^. 

Aber, I do know 

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have 
By this so sicken'd their estates, that never 
They shall abound as formerly. 

Buck. O, many ' 

Have broke their backs with laying manors on them 
For this great journey ^^. What did this vanity, 

" List. 

^' He papers, a verb ; i. e. his own letter, bj his own single 
anthoritj, and without the concurrence of the coancii, mast fetch 
him in whom he papers down. Wolsej published a list of the' 
several persons whom he had appointed to attend on the king 
at this interriew, and addressed his letters to them. See Hall 
and Holinshed, or Rymer's Foedera, vol. xiii. 

*' In the ancient Interlude of Nature, blk. 1. no date, appa- 
rently printed in the reign of King Henry VIII. a similar stroke 
is aimed at this expensive expedition : — 

Pryde. I am unhappy, I se it wel, ' ' 

For the expence of tnyne apparell 

Towardys this vyage — 

What in horses and other aray, 

Hath compelled me for to Uy 

AUn9y land to mortgage,* 

So in King John, Act ii. Sc. 1 : — 

' Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs.' 
And Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, ed. 1634, p. 482 : — 
' 'Tis an ordinary thing to put a thousand okes, or an hundfed 
oxen, into a sute of apparell, to weare a whole manor on his 


But minister communicatioii of 
A most poor issue ? 

Nor. . Grievingly I think, 

The peace between the French and us not values 
The cost that did conclude it. 

Buck. Every man, 

After the hideous storm that foUow'd^^, ivas 
A thing inspir'd: and, not consulting, broke 
Into a general prophecy, — That this tempest. 
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded 
The sudden breach on't. 

N<yr. Which is budded out; 

For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attached 
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. 

Aher, Is it therefore 

The ambassador is silenced ^^? 

Nor. Marry, is't. 

Aher. A proper title of a peace ^^, and purchas'd 
At a superfluous rate ! 

Buck. Why, all this business 

Qur reverend cardinal carried ^^. 

Nor. 'Like it your grace. 

The state takes notice of the private difference 
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you 
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you 
Honour and plenteous safety), that you read 
The cardinal's malice and his potency 
Together : to consider further, that 
What his high hatred would effect, wants not 

17 ' Monday the xriii of Jnoe was such an hiieou^ storme of 
winde and weather, that many conjectarecl it did prognosticate 
trouble and hatred shortly after to follow between princes.' — 

IS The French ambassador, being refased an audience, may 
be said to be siUnc*d. 

1' ' A fine name of a peace :' this is ironically said. So in 
Macbeth :— * O proper staff!' 

** Condacted. 


A minister in his power : You know his nature, 
That he's revengeful ; and I know, his sword 
Hath a sharp edge : if s long, and, it may be said. 
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend. 
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel. 
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that 

That I advise your shunning. 

Mater Cardinal Wolsey (the purse home before 
him), certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries 
toith papers. The Cardinal in his passage fix- 
eth hiseye on Buckingham, and Buckingham 
on him, both fuU of disdain. 

Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? 
Where's his examination ? 

1 Seer. Here, so please you. 

Wol. Is he in person ready ? 
1 Seer. Ay, please your grace. 

Wol. Well, we shall then know more ; and Buck- 
Shall lessen this big look. 

[Exeunt Wolsey and Train. 
Suck. This butcher's cur*^ is venom-mouth'd, 
and I 
Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore, best 
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book 
Out-worths a noble's blood ^^. 

Nor. What, are you chafd? 

Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only , 
Which your disease requires. 

'* The common ramonr ran that Wolsej vras the son of a 
batcher ; but his faithfal biographer Cavendish says nothing of 
faig father being in trade : he tells as that he was ' an honest 
poor man's son.' * 

^ That is, the literary qaalifications of a bookish beggar .are 
more prized than the high descent of hereditary greatness. 


Buck. I read iii his lodki 

Matter against me : and his eye revil'd 

Me, as his abject object:, at tiiis instant 

He bores ^^ me with some trick: He's gone to the 

king ; 
I'll follow, and outstare him. 

Nor. Stay, my lord. 

And let your reason with your choler question 
What 'tis you go about: To climb steep hills. 
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 
A full-hot horse ; who, being allow'd his way. 
Self-mettle tires him^. Not a man in England 
Can advise me like you: be to yourself 
As you would to your friend. 

Buck. ' I'll to the king; 

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down 
This Ipswich fellow's insolence ; or proclaim. 
There's difference in no persons. 

Nor. Be advis'd ; 

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun, 
By violent swiftness, that which we run at. 
And lose by overrunning. Know you not, 
The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er. 
In seeming to augment it, wastes it? Be advis'd : 
I say again, there is no English soul 
More stronger to direct you than yourself; 
If with the sap of reason you would quench, 
Or but allay, the fire of passion^. 

^ i. e. he stabs or woands me by some artifice or fiction. 
^ Thas in Massinger's Unnatural Combat :— • 

' Let passion work, and, like a hot-rein 'd horse, 
*Twill qnicklj tire itself/ 
And Shakspeare again in The Rape of Lncrece : — 
< Till, like hjade, self-will himself doth tire,' 
» So in Hamlet :~ 

' Upon the heat and flame of thj distemper 
Sprinkle cool patience.' 

5C. r. KING HENRY YIII. 170 

Buck. Sir^ 

I am thankful to you ; and I'll go along 
By your prescrip^oa : — ^but this top-proud fellow, 
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but 
From sinc^ne motions^), by intelhgence. 
And proofs as clear as founts in JMy, when * 
We see each grain of gravel, I do know 
To be corrupt and treasonous, 

N&r, Say not, treasonous. 

Suck. To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch 
as strong 
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, 
Or wolf, or bodi (for he is equal ^ ravenous. 
As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief, 
As able to perform it : his mind and place 
Infecting one anollier, yea, reciprocally). 
Only to show his pomp as well in France 
As here at home, suggests ^^ the king our master 
To this last costly treaty, the interview. 
That swallow'd so much treafiure, and like a glass 
Did break i' the rinsing. 

Nor. 'Faith, and so it did. 

Buck^ IPmyf give me favour, sir. This cunning 
The articles o' the combination drew, 
As himself pleas'd ; and they were ratified. 
As he cried, Thus let be : to as much end. 
As give a crutch to the dead : But our count cardinal 
Has done this, and 'tis well : for worthy Wolsey, 
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows 
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy 
To the old dam, treason), — Charles the emperor. 
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt, 
(For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came 

* Honest indignation, warmth of integrity. 

^ Equal for equally, ^ i. e. ineites, or tempts. 


To whisper Wolsey), here makes yisitatioii : 
His fears were, that the interview, betwixt 
England and France, might, through. their amity, 
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league 
Peep'd harms that menac'd him : He privily 
Deals with our cardinal ; and, as I trow, - 
Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor 
Paid ere he promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted. 
Ere it was ask'd;- — ^but when the way was made. 
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd ; — 
That he would please to alter the king's course. 
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know 
(As soon he shall by me), that thus the cardinal 
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases ^, 
And for his own advantage. . 

Nor. I am sorry 

To hear this of him; and could wish, he were 
Something mistaken in't. 

Buck, No, not a syllable; 

I do pronounce him in that very shape, 
He shall appear in proof. 

Enter Brandon ; a Sergeant at Arms before him, 
^nd two or three of the guard. , 

Bran, Your office, sergeant ; execute it. 

Serg. Sir, 

My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl 
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I 
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name 
Of our most sovereign king. 

^ To hvy and sell was a proyerbial expression for ireacherouMi^ 
betraying. It occurs in King Richard III. and in King Henry 
VI. Part I.:— 

' from bought and sold Lord Talbot.' - 

Again, in the Comedy of Errors, * It wonld make a man aa mad 
as a buck to be so bought and sold,* 


Buck, Lo you, my lord. 

The net has falPn upon me ; I shall perish 
Under device and practice^®. 
. Bran. . I am sorry 

To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on 
The business present ^^. Tis his highness' pleasure. 
You shall to the Tower. 

Buck, It will help me nothing. 

To plead mine innocence ; for that dye is on me. 
Which makes my whitest part black. The will of 

Be done in this and' all things ! — I obey. — 
O my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well. 

Bran, Nay, he must bear you company: — The 
king [7b Abergavenny. 

Is pleas'd, you shall to the Tower, till you know 
How he determines further. 

Aber. As the duke said. 

The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure 
By me obey'd. 

Bran. Here is a warrant from 

The king, to attach Lord M ontacute ^, and the bodies 
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car^^, 
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, — 

Buck. So, so; 

These are the limbs of the plot : no more, I hope. 

Bran, A monk o'the Chartreux. 

• ^ i. e. treachery or unfair stratagem. This word has 'already 
been amply illustrated. 

^* I am sorry that I am obliged to be present, and an eyewit- 
ness of your loss of liberty. 

^ This was Henry Pole, grandson to George duke of Clarence, 
and eldest brother to Cardinal Pole. He had married Iiord 
Abergavenny's daughter. Though restored to favour at this 
juncture, he was executed for another alleged treason in this 

^ The name of this monk of the Chartreux was John de la 
Car, alias de la Court. See Holinshed, p. 863. 



Bwck. O, Nicholas Hopkins^? 

JBran, M€. / 

Buck. My surveyor is false, theo'ergreat cardinal 

Hath show'd him gold : my life is spann'd^ already: 

I am the shadow of poor Baekingham; 

Whose figure even this instant clo«d puts out^» 

By dark'ning my clear sun. — My lord, faiewell. 


. SCENE II. The CmncU Chamber. 

ComeU, Enier King Henry, Cardinal Woi/- 
SEY, the Lmrdt of the Cmmcil, Sir Thomas 
LovELL, Officer^y and Aiiendant$. The King 
eittergf leanimg on the Cardinal's Moulder. 

jr. Jffen. My life itself, and the best heart of it. 
Thanks you for this great care : I stood i'the level ^ 
Of a full charg'd confederacy, and give thanks 
To you that chok'd it. — Let be call'd before us 
That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person 
I'll hear him his confessions justify; 

^ Nicholas Hopkins, aiioth«r monk of tbe sune order, be- 
longing to a religious house called Henton beside Bristaw. 

^ i. e. tmeasuredf the duration of it determined. Man*s life is 
said in scripture to be but a span long. 

* The old eop7 reads 'this instant sun puts on.' I hare 
adopted Dr. Johnson's pn^sed emiaiidatioB, all attempts to make 
sense of the old reading having failed. Sir W. Blackstone 
approved this emendation, and thus explained the passage : — ' I 
am but the shadow of poor Buckingham ; and even the figure or 
outline of this shadow begins to fade awaj, being extinguished 
bj this impending cloud, which darkens (or interposes betwe^i 
me and my) elear sun ; that is the favour of mj sovereign.' 

* To stand in the level of a gun is to stand in a Ime nnik iU 
mauik, so as to be hit bj the shot : — 

' Not a heart which in his level came 
Could scape the bail of his all hurting aim.' 

hovel's Complaint. 


And point by point the treasons of his master 
He shall again relate. 

The King takes his state. The Lords of the Council 
take their several places. The Cardinal places 
himself under the King's ^6f, on his right side. 

A noise within, crying. Room for the Queen. En- 
ter the Queen, ushered hy the Dukes of Nor- 
folk and Suffolk: she kneek. The King 
riseth from his state, takes her up, kisses, and 
placeth her by him, 

Q.Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel: I am a* 

K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us: — Half 
your suit 
Never name to us ; you have half our power : 
The other moiety, ere you ask, is given ; 
Repeat your will, and take it. 

Q. Kath. Thank your majesty. 

That you would love yourself; and, in that love. 
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor 
The dignity of your office, is the point 
Of my petition. 

K. Hen. Lady mine, proceed. 

Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few. 
And those of true condition, that your subjects 
Are in great grievance : there have been commissions 
Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the heart 
Of all their loyalties : — wherein, although, 
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches 
Most bitterly on you, as putter on^ 
Of these exactions, yet the king our master 
(Whose honour heaven shield from soil !) even he 
escapes not 

^ i. e.< promoter or instigaior» 


Language unmannerly, yea, such which bleaks 
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears 
In loud rebellion. 

Nor, Not almost appears. 

It doth appear ; for, upon these taxations. 
The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
The many to them 'longing, have put off 
The spihst^s, carders, fullers, weavers, who. 
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger 
And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar. 
And Danger serves among them^. 

K, Hen, Taxation ! 

IVlierein ? and what taxation ? — My lord cardinal. 
You that are blam'd for it alike with us, 
Know you of this taxation ? 

Wol, Please you, sir, 

I know but of a single part, in aught 
Pertains to the state ; and front but in that file^ 
Where others tell steps with me. 

Q. Kath. No, my lord. 

You know no more than others : but you frame 
Things, that are known alike ; which are not whole- 
To those which would not know them, and yet must 
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions. 
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are 
Most pestilent to the hearing ; and, to bear them, 

' Warburton is foil of admiration at this sudden rising of the 
poet * to a height tmlj sablime !' where bj the noblest stretch 
of fancy Danger is personified as serving in the rebel arm j, and 
shaking the established goTemment. €^ower. Chancer, Skelton, 
and Spenser have also personified Danger. 

^ He means to saj that he is but one among many connsellors, 
who proceed in the same course with him in the business of the 
state. To this the qneen replies that he frames things, or thej 
originate with him, which are afterward known to the council 
and promulgated by them. 


The back is sacrifice to the load. They say. 
They are devis'd by yoo ; or else you suffer 
Too hard an exclamation. 

K. Hen. Still exaction I 

The nature of it? In what kind, let's know, 
Is this exaction ? 

Q. Kath. I am much too venturous 

In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd 
Fnder your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief 
Comes through commissions, which compel from each 
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
Without delay : and the pretence for this 
Is nam'd, your wars in France : This makes bold 

mouths : 
Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze 
Allegiance in them ; their curses now 
Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass. 
That tractable obedience is a slave 
To each incensed will^. I would, your highness 
Would give it quick consideration, for 
There' is no primer business^. 

K, Hen. By my life. 

This is against our pleasure. 

WoL And for me, 

I have no farther gone in this, than by 
A single voice ; and that not pass'd me, but 
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am 
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know 
My faculties, nor person, yet will be 
The chronicles of my doing, — let me say, 

^ The meaning (sajs Malone) appears to be, things are now in 
snch a situation that resentment and indignation predominate in 
every man's breast over datj and allegiance* 

.• The old copy reads ' There is no primer htueness,^ Warbnr- 
tMi made the alteration, which Steevens seems to think unaeces- 
sary, though he has retained it in his text. 



Tis bi|t the fate' of {^ce, and the rough brake ^ 

That virtue must go through. We must not stint^ 

Our necessary actions,. in the fear 

To cope ^ malicious censurers ; M^hich ever. 

As ravenous iishes, do a vessel follow 

That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further 

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best. 

By sick interpreters, once^^ weak ones, is 

Not ours, or not allow'd ^^ ; what worst, as oft. 

Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 

For our best act. If we shall stand still. 

In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at. 

We should take root here where we sit, or sit 

State statues only. 

K. Hen, Things done well, 

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear ; 
Things done without example, in their issue 
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent 
Of this commissipn? I. believe, not any. 
We must not rend our subjects from our laws. 
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each ? 
A trembling contribution ! Why, we take. 
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber ; 
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd. 
The air will drink the sap. To every county. 
Where this is question'd, send our letters, with 

7 Thicket of thorns. 

* To stint is to stop or retard. Vide Romeo and Jnliet, Act i. 
Sc. 3. 

^ i. e. to engage with, to encounter. Thus in As You Like 

* I love to cope him in these sullen fits.' 

1® Once is not unfrequentlj used for sometime f or at one time 
or other. Thus Drajton in his Thirteenth Idea : — 

* This diamond shall once cottsi^e to dust.' 
And in The Merry "Wives of Windsor: — * I pray thee <mc€ to- 
night give my sweet Nan this ring.' 

** i. e. approved. Vide vol. i. p. 223. 


Free pardon to each man that has denied 
The force of this commission ; Pray^ look to't ; 
I put it to your care. 

Wol. A word with you. 

[ To the Secretary. 
Let there be letters writ to every shire, 
Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons 
Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd. 
That, through our intercession, this revokement 
And pardon comes : I shall anon advise you 
Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary. 

Enter Surveyor ^^. 

Q. Kath, I am- sorry, that the duke of Buckingham 
Is run in your displeasure. 

K. Hen, It grieves many : 

The gentleman is leam'd, and a most rare speaker ^^y 
To nature none more bound; his training such. 
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers. 
And never seek for aid out of himself ^^. 
Yet see 

When these so noble benefits shall prove 
Not well dispos'd^^, the mind growing once corrupt. 
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly 
Than ever they were fair. This man so c6mplete. 
Who was enroird 'mongst wonders, and when we. 
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find 

'' Holinshed says that this snrvejor's name ^as Chftries 

*^ It appears from the prologue to the Romance of the Knight 
of the Swanne^'that it was translated from the French at the 
request of this unfortanate nobleman. Copland, the printer, 
says ' Helyas the Knight of the Swanne, from whom lineally is 
descended my said lord.^ The duke was executed on Friday 
the 17th of May, 1521. The book has no date. 

^* i. e. beyond the treasures of his own mind. 

^^ Great gifts of nature and education not joined with good 


His hour of speech a minute ; he^ my Iftdy, 
Hath into monstrous habits put the s^ces 
That once were his, and is become as black 
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us; you shall hear 
(This was his gentleman in trust) of him 
Things to strike honour sad. — Bid him recount 
The fore-recited practices ; whereof 
We cannot feel too little, hear too much. 

WoL Stand forth ; and vrith bold spirit relate what 
Most like a careful subject, have collected 
Out of the Duke of Bdckingham. 

K. Hen. Speak freely. 

Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day 
It would infect his speech. That if the king 
Should without issue die, he'd carry ^^ it so 
To make the sceptre his : These very words 
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law, 
Lord Aberga'ny ; to whom by oath he menaced 
Revenge upon the cardinal. 

WoL Please your highness, note 

This dangerous conception in this point. 
Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
His will is most malignant; and it stretohes 
Beyond you, to your friends. 

Q* Katk, My leam'd lord cardinal, 

Deliver all with charity. 

K. Hen, Speak on : 

How grounded he his title to the crown. 
Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him 
At any time speak aught? 

Smv. He was brought to thia 

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. 

K, Hen. What was tliat Hopkins? 

'^ Conduct, manage. 


Surv, Sir, a Chartreux friar. 

His confessor; who fed him every minute 
With words of sovereignty. 

K. Hen, How know*st thou this ? 

Surv. Not long before your highness sped to 
The duke being at the Rose^^, within the parish 
Saint Lawrence Pouitney, did of me demand 
What was the speech amongst the Londoners 
Concerning the French journey : I replied. 
Men fear'd, the French would prove {Perfidious, 
To the king's, danger. Presently the duke 
Said, n^was the fear indeed; and that he doubted, 
'Twould prove the verity of certain words 
Spoke by a holy monk : That oft, says he. 
Hath tent to me, wishing me to permit 
John, de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour . 
To hear from him a matter of some mxnnent: 
Whom after under the confession's seal^^ 
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke. 
My chaplain to no creature living, but 
To me, should utter, with demure confidence 
This pausingly ensued, — Neither the king, nor his 

( Tell you the duke), shall prosper : bid him strive 
To gain the love of the commonalty ; the duke 
Shall govern England. 

Q. Kath, If I know you well. 

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office 
On the complaint o'the tenants : Take good heed, 

^'^ This house was purchased about the year 1561, by Richard 
Hill, sometime master of the merchant tailors' company, and is 
now the merchant tailors' school, in Suffolk Lane. 

'^ The old copy has ' commission's seal/ The emendation is 
Theobald's, and is warranted as well by the context as by a pas- 
sage in Holinshed. 


You charge not in your spleen a noble person. 
And spoil your nobler soul ! I say, take heed ; 
Yes, heartily beseech you. 

K. Hen. Let him on: — 

Go forward. 

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. 

I told my lord the duke. By the devil's illusions 
The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas dimg'rous 

for him 
To ruminate on this so far, until 
It forg'd him tome design, which, being believ'd. 
It was much like to do: He answer'd, TimA/ 
It can do me no damage : adding furthei*. 
That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd. 
The cardinal 8 and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads 
Should have gone off. 

K. Hen. Ha! what, so rank ^^? Ah, ha! 

There's mischief in Uiis man : Canst thou say 

further? ' 

Surv. I can, my liege. 

K. Hen, Proceed. 

Surv» Being at Greenwich, 

After your highness had reprov'd the duke 
About Sir WiUiam Blomer ^^,— 

K, Hen. I remember, 

Of such a time : — Being my servant sworn. 
The duke retain'd him his. But on ; What hence ? 

Surv. If 9 quoth he, I for this had been committed. 
As, to the Tower, I thought, — I would have played 
The part my father meant to act upon 

*^ Rank weeds are weeds grown up to great height and 
strength. '' What (says the king), was he advanced to this 

pitch r 

^ Sir William Blomer (Holinshed caHs him Bulmer) was 
reprimanded hy the king in the Star Chamber, for that, being his 
sworn servant, he had left the king's service for the doke of 


The unarper Richard: who, being at SaK^ry, 
Made mit to come m his presence ; which if granted. 
As he nuide semblance of his doty, would 
Have put his knife into him^^. 

K. Hen. A giant traitor! 

WoU Now, madam, may bis highness live in 
And this man out of prison ? 

Q. Kath. God mend all ! 

K. Hen. There's something more would out of 
thee; What say'st? 

Sunr. After — the duke his father, — with the 
He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger. 
Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes, 
He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour 
Was, — Were he evil us'd, he would outgo 
His father, by as .much as a performance 
Does an irresolute purpose. 

K, Hen. There's his period. 

To sheath his knife in us. He is attached; 
Call him to present trial : if he may 
Find mercy in die law, 'tis his ; if none. 
Let him not seek't of us : By day and night ^, 
He's traitor to the height. [Exeuni. 

31 The accaracj of Holinshed, from whom Shakspeure took 
his acconnt of the aeciuations and pnnuhment, together with the 
^malitiea of the duke of Backingham, is proved io the most 
ftBtheirtic maBBor bj a yerj carioas report of his case in East. 
Term. 13 Hen. YIII. in the jear hooks pablisfaed by authority, 
edit 1597, f. 11, 12. 

^ Steevene takes onnecessary pains to explain this phrase. T 
wonder he conld doubt that it was an adjuration. HoratiO) io 
Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 5, sajs : — 

' O day Mad night, but this is wond'roas strange.' 


SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Sands ^. 

Cham. Is it possible, the spells of France should 
Men into such strange mysteries ^ ? 

Sands. New customs. 

Though they be never so ridiculous. 
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are followed. 

Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English 
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely 
A fit or two o' the face ^ ; but they are ^rewd ones ; 
Eor when they hold them, you would swear directly. 
Their very noses had been counsellors 
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. 

Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones ; 
one would take it, 
That never saw them pace before, the spavin, 
A springhalt^ reign'd among them. 

^ Shakspeare has placed this scene in 1521. Charles earl of 
Worcester was then lord chamberlain, and continued in the office 
nntil his death, in 1626. Bat Cavendish, from whom this was 
originally taken, places this event at a later period, when Lord 
Sands himself was chamberlain. Sir William Sands, of the 
Vine, near Basingstoke, Hants, was created a peer in 1524. He 
succeeded the earl of Worcester as chamberlain. 

' Mysteries are arts, and here artificial fashions. 

' A fit of the face seems to be a grimacey an artificial cast of 
the countenance. Fletcher has more plainly expressed the same 
thought in The iUder Brother :— 

* learn new tongues — 

To vary his face as seam^en do their compass.' 

* The springhalt or stringhaJt is a disease incident to horses, 
which makes them limp in their paces. It is a bnmorous com- 
parison of the mincing gait of the Frenchified courtiers to this 
convulsive motion. Ben Jonson, in his Bartholomew Fair, uses 
it :-^ 

* Poor soul, she has had a stringhaU.* 


Cham. Death!' my lord. 

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too. 
That, surcy they have worn out Christendom. How 

now? . 

What news, Sir Thomas Lovell? 

Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. 

Lao. Taithy my lord, 

I hear of none, but the new proclamation 
That's clapp'd upon the court gate. 

Cham. What is't for? 

Lot. The reformation of our travell'd gallants. 
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. 

Cham. I am glad, 'tis there : now I would pray 
our monsieurs 
To think an English courtier may be wise. 
And never see die Louvre. 

Lon. They must either 

(For so run the conditions) leave these renmants 
Of fool, and feather^, that they got in France, 
With all their honourable points of ignorance. 
Pertaining tliereunto (as fights, zpA fireworks ; 

* The text may receive illustratioii from Nashe's life of Jacke 
Wilton, 16d4 : — 'At that.time (viz. in. the coart of King Henrjr 
Vm.) I was DO common squire, no undertrodden torchbearer, / 
had my feather in my cap as big as a flag in theforetopt mj French 
doublet gelte in the belly, as though (lyke a pig readie to be 
spitted) all my guts had beene plnckt out, a paire of side paned 
hose that hung down like two scales filled with Holland cheeses, 
my Umg stock that sate close to my dock, — my rapier pendant, 
like a round sticke, &c. my blaoke cloake of cloth, oyerspread- 
ing my backe lyke a thombacke or ab elephant'tt eare ; and in 
consummation of my curiositie, my handes without gloves, all a 
more French,*^ &c. Mr. Douce justly observes that Sir Thomas 
Lovell's is an allusion to the feathers which were formerly, worn 
by fools in their caps, as may be seen in a print of Jordan's after 
Yoert ; and .Which is alluded to in the Ballad of News and no 
News : — 

' And feathers wagging in a fool's cap.' 



Abusing better men than they can be, 

Out of a foreign wisdom), renouncing clean 

The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, 

Short blister'd breeches^, and those types of travel. 

And understand again like honest men ; 

Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it. 

They ma,yf cum privilegio, wear away 

The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at. 

Sands, Tis time to give them pbysick, their dis- 
Are grown so catching. 

Cham. What a loss our ladies 

Will have of these trim vanities ! 

Lov, Ay, marry. 

There will be woe indeed, lords ; the sly whoresons 
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ; 
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow. 

Sands, The devil fiddle them ! I am glad, they're 
(For, sure, there's no converting of them) : now 
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten 
A long time out of play, may bring his plain song. 
And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r lady, 
Held"^ current musick too. 

Cham. Well said. Lord Sands : 

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. 

Sands, No, my lord; 

Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 

Cham, Sir Thomas, 

Whither were you a going ? 

Lov, To the cardinal's ; 

Vour lordship is a guest too. 

Cham, O, 'tis true : 

^ i. e. breeches puffed or swelled ont like blUUrs, 
"^ The late edition bj Mr. Boswell reads hold, noticing that 
held is the reading^ of the first folio. 


This night he makes a supper; and a great one, 
To many lords and ladies ; there will be 
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure yt»u. 

Lw. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in- 
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; 
His dews fall every where. 

Cham. No doubt, he's noble; 

He had a black mouth, that said other of him. 

Sands, He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; 
in him. 
Sparing would show a wor^se sin than ill doctrine : 
Men of his way should be most liberal. 
They are set here for examples. 

Cham, True, they are so : 

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays ^ ; 
Your lordship shall along : — Come,good Sir Thomas, 
We shall be late else : which I would not be. 
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guildford^ 
This night to be comptrollers. 

Sands, I am your lordship's. 



The Presence Chamber in York Place. 

Hautboys, A small table under a state far the Car- 
dinal, a longer table for the guests. Enter at one 
door Anne Bullen, and divers Lords, Ladies, 
and Gentlewomen, as guests; at another door, 
enter Sir Henry Guildford. 

Guild, Ladies, a general welcome from his grace 
Salutes ye all : This night be dedicates . 
To fair content, and you : none here, he hopes,. 

* The speaker is now in the king's palace at Bridewell, from 
whence he is proceeding by water to York Place (Cardinal Wol- 
sey's house), now Whitehall. 


In all this noble bevy ^, has brought with her 

One care abroad: he would have all as merry 

As first-good company, good wine, good welcome/ 

Can make good people. O, my lord, you are 


Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, amf Sir 

Thomas Lovell. 

The very > thought of this fair company 
Clapp'd wings to me. 

Cham. You are young. Sir Harry Guildford. 

Sandg. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal 
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these 
Should find a running banquet ere they rested, 
I think, would better please them : By my life. 
They are a sweet society of fair ones. 

Lav. O, that your lordship were but now confessor 
To one or two of these ! 

Sands. I would, I were ; 

They should find easy penance. 

Lov. 'Faith, how easy ? 

Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it. 

Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you isit? Sir 
Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this : 
His grace is ent'ring. — Nay, you must not freeze ; . 
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather : — 
My Lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking ; 
Pray, sit. between these ladies. 

* A bevy is a company. In the cnrions catalogue of ' Tbe 
companjes of bestjs and fonles^ in the Book of St. Albans, it is 
said tobe the proper term for a company of ladies, of roes, and 
of qnailes. Johnson deriyes it from the Italian, I suspect apon 
no better anthoritj than finding it in Florio translated beva. Its 
origin is yet to seek. Spenser has ' a bevy of ladies bright,' in 
his Shepherd's Calender, ' a lovely bevy of faire ladies ' in his 
Faerie Queene, and Milton has ' a bevy of fair dames.' 

SC. IV. KING HENRY V.lll. 107 

SoMtb. By my fdth. 

And thank yonr lordship. — By your leave, sweet 
[Seats himself between Anne Bullen and 
another Lady. 
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me ; 
I had it from my father. 
Anne. Was he mad, sir? 

Sands. O, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too : 
But he would bite none ; just as I do now,. 
He would kiss you twenty with a breath. 

[Kisses her. 
Cham. Well said, my lord. — 

So, now you are fairly seated :— 'Gentlemen, 
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies 
Pass away frowning. 

Sands. For my little cure. 

Let me alone. 

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, attended: 

and takes his state. 

Wol. You are welcome, my fair guests; that 
noble lady. 
Or gentleman, that is not freely merry. 
Is not my friend : This, to confirm my welcome; 
And to you all good health. [Drinks. 

Sands, Your grace is noble ; — 

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks. 
And save me so much talking. 

Wol My Lord Sands, 

I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbours. — 
Ladies, you are not merry ;-^Gentlemen, 
Whose fault is this 7 

Sands. . The red wine first must rise 

In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall have them 
Talk us to silence. 



Anne, You are a merry gamester, my Lord Sands. 

Sands. Yes, if I make- my play^. 

Here's to your ladyship : and pledge it, madam. 
For 'tis to such .a tMng,^ — 
Anne. You cannot show me. 

Sands, I told your grace, they would talk anon. 
[Drum and trumpets within: Chambers^ 
Wol, What's that? 

Cham, Look out there, some of you. 

[Exit a Servant! 
Wbl, What warlike voice ? 

And to what end is this ? — ^Nay, ladies, fear not; 
By all the laws of war you are privileg'd. 

Re-enter Servant. 

Cham, How now? what is't? 

Serv, A noble troop of strangers ; 

For so they seem : they have left their barge, and 

landed : ^ 

And hither make, as great ambassadors 
From foreign princes. 

Wol, Good lord chamberlain, 

^ i. e. if I mfty choose my game. 

3 Clumbers are short pieces of ordnance, standing almost erect 
Upon their breechings, chiefly used apon festive occasions, being 
so contrived as to carry great charges, and make a load report. 
They had their name from being little more than mere chaaibera 
to lodge powder ; that being the technical name for that cavity 
in a gnn which contains the powder or combustible matter. 
Cavendish, describing this scene as it really occurred, says that 
against the king's coming ' were laid charged many cluanbera, 
and at his landing they were all shot ofl^, which made snch a 
ramble in the air that it was like thunder.' So in a New Triok 
to Cheat the Devil, 1636:— 

* 1 still think o' the Tower ordnance. 

Or of the peal of chambers, that's still fired 
When my lord mayor takes his barge.' 


Go, give them welcome^ you can «peak the French 

tongue ; 
And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them 
Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty 
Shall shine at full iipon them : — Some attend him. — 
[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise, 
and Tables removed. 
You have now a broken banquet ; but we'll mend it. 
A good digestion to you all : and, once more, 
I shower a welcome on you ; — ^Welcome all. 

Hautboys, Enter the King, and twelve Others, as 

Maskers, habited like Shepherds, with sixteen 

Torchbearers : ushered by the Lord Chamberlain. 

They pass directly before the Cardinal, and grace- 

fuUy salute him, 

A noble company ! what are their pleasures ? 
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus, they 
To tell your grace; — ^that, having heard by fame 
Of this so noble and so fair assembly 
This night to meet here, they could do no less. 
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, 
But leave their flocks; and under your fair conduct. 
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat 
An hour of revels with them.. 

Wol. Say, lord chamberlain. 

They have done my poor house grace ; for which I 

pay them 
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their plea- 
[Ladies chosen for the dance. The King chooses 
Anne Bullen. 
K. Hen. The fairest' hand I ever touch'd ! O, 
Till now I never knew thee. [Musipk. Dance. 


WoL My lord,— 

Cham. Your grace? 

WoL Pray, tell them thus much from me : 

There should be one amongst them, by his person, 
More worthy this place than myself; to whom, 
If I but knew him, with my love and duty 
I would surrrader it. 

Cham. I will, my lord. 

[Cham. goeB to the company, and returns. 

Wol. What sfty they ? 

Cham. ' Such a one, they all confess. 

There is, indeed; which they would have your grace 
Find out, and he will take it. 

Wol. Let me see then. — 

. [Comes from his state. 
By all your good leaves; gentlemen ; — Here I'll make 
My royal choice. 

K. H^^ You have found him, cardinal^ : 

You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord: 
You are a churchman, or, 111 tell you, cardinal, 
I should judge now unhappily ^. 

WoL I am glad. 

Your grace is grown so pleasant. 

K. Hen. My l^rd chamberlain, 

Pr'ythee, com^ hither : What fetr lady's that? 

^ CaTendifth, from whom Stowe and Holinshed copied their 
account, says that the cardinal pitched upon ' Sir Edward 
Neville, a comely knight of a goodly personage, that much more 
resembled the king's person in that mask than any other,' upon 
which ' the king plncked down his visor and Master Neville's 
also, and dashed out with snch a pleasant cheer and connte- 
nance, that all noble estates there assembled, seeing the king to 
be there amongst them, rejoiced very much.' 

^ i. e. waggishly,*mischievoa8ly. Thas in Andromana, Dods- 
ley's Old Plays, vol. xi. p. 49 : — 

' Answer me not in words, bat deeds, 
I know yon always talk'd wikapfHy* 



Cham. An't pleas^e your grace^ Sir Thomas Bui- 
len's daughter, 
The ViscomitRochfordj one of her highness' women. 

K, Hen, By heaven, she is a dainty one. — Sweet- 
I were unmannerly, to take you out. 
And not to kiss you^. — ^A health, gentlemen. 
Let it go round. 

Wol, Sir Thomas LoveU, is the banqyet ready 
I' the privy chamber? 

Xov. Yes, my lord. 

Wol, Your grace, 

I fear, with dancing is a little heated 7. '' 

K. Hen. I fear, too much. 

WoL There's fresher air, my lord. 

In the next chamber. 

' A kiss was aficiently the established fee of alad/s partner. 
Thus in A Dialogue between Custom and Veritie, concerning the 
Use and Abuse of Danncing and Minstrelsie, blk. 1. printed by 
John Allde, no date : — 

' But some reply, what foole would daunce 

If that when daonce is doon 
He may not have at ladyes lips 

That which in dannoe he woon.' 

The cnstom is still prevalent among coontry people in many 
parts of the kingdom. 

^ According to Cayendish, the king, on discovering himself, 
being desired by Wolsey to take his place under the state or 
seat of honour, said 'that he would go first and shift his apparel, 
and so departed, and went straight into my lord's bedchamber, 
where a great fire was mad^ and prepared for him, and there 
new apparelled him with rich and princely garments. And in 
the time of the king's absence the dishes of the banquet were 
cleane taken up, and the tables spread with new and sweet per- 
fumed cloths. — Then the king took his seat under the cloth of 
estate, commanding no man to riemoye, but set still as they did 
before. Then in came a new banquet before the king's majesty, 
and to all the rest through the tables, wherein, I suppose were 
seryed two hundred dishes or above. Thus passed they forth 
the whole night with banquetting,' &c. 


K, Hen. Liead in your ladies, every one. — Sweet* 
I must not yet forsake you.— Let's be merry ; — * 
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths 
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure 
To lead them once again ; and then let's dream 
Who's best in favour. — ^Let the musick knock it®. 

[Exemtty with trunipeis. 

ACT 11. 

SCENE I. A Street. 

Enter two Gentlemen, meetitig. 

1 Gefit, Whither away so fast? 

2 Gent. O, — God save you! 
Even to the hall to hear what shall become 

Of the great duke of Buckingham. 

1 Gent. I'll save you 
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony 
Of bringing back the prisoner. 

2 Gent, Were you there? 
i Gent. Yes, indeed, was I. 

2 Gent, Ptay, speak, what has happen'd? 

1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. 

2 Gent. Is he found guilty ? 

1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon it. 

2 Gent* I am sorry for't. 

1 Gent. So are a number more. 

' Thug in Antonio and Mellida : — 

' Flo, Faith the song will aeem to come off hardly. 
Caiz. Troth, not a whit, if yon seem to come off qaiokly. 
Fla. Pert Catzo, knock it then.' 


2 Geni, But, pray, how pass'd it? 

1 Gent, I'll tell you in a little. The great duke 
Came tO'the bar ; where, to his accusations^ 

He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleg'd 

Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. 

The king's attorney, on the contrary, 

Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions . 

Of divers witnesses ; which the duke desir'd 

To have brought, viod voce^ to his face : 

At which appear'd against him, his surveyor ; 

Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor; and John Court, 

Confessor to him; with that devil*monk, 

Hopkins, that made this mischief. 

2 Gent. That was he^ 
That fed him with his prophecies ? 

1 Gent, The same. 
All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain 
Would have flungfrom him, but, indeed, he could not : 
And so his peers, upon this evidence. 

Have found him guilty of high treason. Much 
He spoke, and learnedly, for life : but all 
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten K 

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself? 

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar, — 

to hear 
His knell rung out, his judgment, — ^he was stirr'd 
With such an agony, he sweat extremely, 
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty : 
But he fell to himself again, and, sweetly, 
In all the rest showed a most noble patience, 

2 Gent. I do not think, he fears death. 

1 Gent. Sure, he does not. 

He never was so womanish ; the cause 
He may a little grieve at. 

* Either prodaced no effect, or prodnced on) j indffectiial 


2 CfenU Certainly, 

Thie cardinal is the end of this. 

1 Gent \ Tis likely. 
By ail conjectures : First, Kildare's attainder. 
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remoy'd, 

Earl Surrey was sent thither^ and in haste too, 
Lest he should help his father. 

2 Gent. That- trick of state 
Was a deep envious one. 

1 Gent. At his return, 
No doufot, he will requite it. This is noted. 
And generally : whoever the king favours, 
The cardinal instantly will find employment. 
And far enough from court too. 

2 Gent. All the conundns 
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience. 
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much 
They love and dote on ; call him, bounteous Buck- 

The mirror of ail courtesy *; — 

1 Gent. Stay there, sir. 
And see the .noble ruin'd man you speak of. 

Enter Buckingham from his arraignment : Tip- 
staves before him, the axe with the edge towards 
him; halberds on each tide: with him. Sir Tho- 
mas LovEix, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir 
William Sands ^, and common People. 

2 Gent, Let's stand close, and behold him. 
Buck, All good people. 

You that thus far have come to pity me, 

' The report in the Old Year Book, referred to above, thus 
describes him -.^-^ Car il fdt ires noble prince et pradent, ei 
mirror de tout courtesie," ^ 

^ The old copy reads ' Sir Walter,* The correction is justified 
by Holinshed. Sh William Sands was at this time (May, 1621) 
only a knight, not being created Lord Sands till April 27, 15S7. 


Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. 
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, 
Aqd by that name must die ; Yet, heaven bear 

And, if I haye a conscience, let it sink me. 
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful ! 
The law I bear no malice for my death. 
It has done, upon the premises., but justice : 
Butthose, that sought it, I could wish more christians : 
Be what they will, I. heartily forgive them: 
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief, 
Nor build their evils'^ on the graves of great men; 
Tot then my guiltless blood must cry against them. 
Tor further life in this world I ne'er hope. 
Nor yniil I sue, although the king have mercies 
More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me. 
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, . 
Hi^ noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave . 
Is only bitter to him, only dying, 
^o with me, like good angels, to my end ; . 
And, as the long divorce^ of steel falls oil me. 
Make of your prayers, one sweet sacrifice^ 
And lift my soul to heavep ^ — Lead on, o'God's name. 

Shftkspeare probably did not know that he was the same person 
whom he has already introduced with that title. The error 
arose by placing the king's visit to Wolsey (at which time Sir 
William was Lord Sands) and Backingham's condemnation in 
(he same year ; whereas the visit was made some years after- 

* EtjUs are forcia. So in Measure for Measure, Act ii. 
Sc. 2:— 

* — — — having waste ground enough, 
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 

^ And pitch our evUs there ?* 

* Thus in Lord Sterline's Darius : — 

* Scarce was the lasting last divorcement made 
Betwixt the bodie and the spule.' 

^ Johnson observes with great truth, that these lines are re- 
iparkably tender and pathetic. 



Lov, I do beseech your grace, for charity. 
If ever any malice in your heart 
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. 

Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you. 
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all; 
There cannot be those numberless offences 
'Gainst me, I can't take peace with : no black envy 
Shall make''^ my grave. — Commend me to his grace ; 
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him 
You met him half in heaven : my vows and prayers 
Yet are the king's ; and, till my soul forsake me, 
Shall cry for blessings on him : May he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be ! 
And, when old time shall lead him to his end. 
Goodness and he fill up one monument! 

Lov, To the water side I must conduct your grace ; 
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, 
Who undertakes you to your end. 

Vaux. Prepare there. 

The duke is coming : see, the barge be ready; 
And fit it wi<h such furniture, as suits 
The greatness of his person. 

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, 

Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me. 
When I came luther, I was lord high constable. 
And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bo- 

7 Shakspeare, bj this expression, probably meant to make the 
doke say. No action expressive of malice shall close my life. 
Envy is elsewhere used by Shakspeare for malice or hatred. 
Unless with Warbnrton we read * mark my grave ;' a very plau- 
sible emendation of an error easily made ; and which has indeed 
happened in an instance in King Henry V. Act' ii. Sc. 2, where 
the old copy erroneonsly reads : — 

' Termake the full fraught man, and best endued 
With some suspicion.' 

' The name of th^ duke of Buckingham most generally knows 


Ifet I am richer than my base acgusers. 

That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it^; 

And with that blood will make them one day groan 

My noble father, Henry of ^Buckingham, 
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard, 
Flying for succour to his servant Banister, 
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd. 
And without trial fell; God's peace be wiUi him ! 
Henry the Seventh, succeedijig, truly pitying 
My father's loss, like a most royal prince, 
Kestor'd me to my honours^ and, out of tuins. 
Made my name once more noble. Now his son, 
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all 
That made kne happy, at one stroke has taken 
For ever from the world. I had my trial. 
And, must n^eds say, a noble one; which makes me 
A little happier than my wretched father : 
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, — Both 
Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most; 
A most unnatural and faithless service ! 
Heaven has an end in all : Yet, you that hear me, 
This from a dying man receive as certain : 
Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels. 
Be sure, you be not loose ^^ ; for those you make 

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
like water from ye, never found again 

was Stafford ; it is said that he affected the snrname of Bohun, 
because he was lord high constahle of England bj inheritance of 
tenure from the Bohons. Shakspeare follows Holinshed. 

^ I now seal my tmth, my loyalty with blood, which blood 
shall one day make them groan. 

^^ This expression occurs again in Othello :-— 
' There are a kind of men so loose of soal 
That io their sleeps will matter their affairs.* 


But where they mean to sink ye. All good people. 
Pray for me ! - 1 must now forsake ye ; the lasthour 
Of my long weary life is come upon me. 
Farewell : 

And when you would say something that is sad ^^^ 
Speak how I fell. — I have done ; and God forgive me ! 

[Exeunt Buckingham and Train. 

1 Gent. O, this is full of pity! — Sir, it calls, 
I fear, too many curses on their heads. 

That were the authors. 

2 Gent, If die duke be guiltless, 
'Tis full of woe : yet I can give you inkling 

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall. 
Greater than this. 

1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us ! 
Where may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir? 

2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require 
A strong faith ^^ to conceal it. 

1 Gent. Let me have it ; 
I do not talk much. 

2 Gent. I am confident : 

You shall, sir : Did you not of late days hear 
A buzzing, of a separation 
Between the king and Katharine ? 

1 Gent. Yes, but it held^' not : 

For when the kin^g once heard it, out of anger 
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight 
To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues 
That durst disperse it. 

'1 Tha9 also in King Richard II. : — 

' Tell thon the lamentable tale of me, 
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.' 
" Great Bdelity. 

'^ Steevens erroneonslj explains this passage, saying to hold 
is to believe: * it held not' here rather means ' it did not ntstam 
itself/ the romoor did not prove true. So in King Richard III. 
Act ii. Sc. 2 : — 

' Doth the newb hold of good King Edward's death V 


2 Geni. But that slander, sir. 

Is found a truth now ; for it grows again 
Fresher than e'er it was ; and held forxertain. 
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal. 
Or some about him near, have, out of malice. 
To the good queen possessed him with a scruple 
That will undo her : To confirm this too. 
Cardinal Campeius is arriy'd, and lately; 
As all think, for this business. 

1 Gent, Tia the cardinal ; 
And merely to revenge him on the emperor. 
For not bestowing on him, at his asking, 

The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 

2 Gent. I think, you have hit the mark: But is't 

not cruel, 
That she should feel the. smart of this ? The cardinal 
Will have his will, and she must falL 

1 Gent. 'TIS woful. 

We are too open here to argue this ; 
Let's think in private more. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. An Antechamber in the Palace. 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a Letter, 

Cham. My hrd, — Hie hones your krdship sent 
for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, rid- 
den, and furnished. They were young, and hand- 
same; and of the best breed in the north. When 
they were ready to set out for London, a man of my 
lord cardinaVs, by commission, and main power, tooh 
^ em from me; with this reason, — His master would 
be served before a subject, if not before the king: 
which stopped our mouths, sir, 

I fear, he will, indeed : Well, let him have them : 
He will have all, I think. 



Enter the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk. 

Nor, Well met, my good lord chamberlain. 

Cham. Good day to both your graoes. 

Suf. How is the king employ'd? 

Cham. . I left him private. 

Full of sad thoughts and troubles. 

Nor. What's the cause ? 

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife 
Has crept too near his conscience. 

;S^. No, his conscience 

Has crept too near another lady. 

Nor. Tis so ; 

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : 
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, 
Tums.what he list. The king will know him one day. 

Suf. Pray God, he do! hell never know himself 

Nor. How holily he works in all his business ! 
And with what zesd ! For, now he has crack'd the 

Between us and the emperor, the queen's great 

He dives into the king's soul ; and there scatters 
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, 
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage : 
And, out of all these to restore the king. 
He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her. 
That, like a jewel ^, has. hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 
Of her, that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with ; even of her 
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, 
Will bless the king : ^nd is iiot this course pious ? 

I See The Winter's Tale, Act. ii. Sc. 2, p. 20, note 43. 

SC. II.' KING HENRY Vlli: 211 

Cham. Heaven kteep me from such counsel ! Tis 
most true, 
These news are every idiere; every tongue speaks 

And every true heart weeps for't : All, that dare 
Look into these affairs, see this main end, — ^ 
The French king's sister^ : Heaven will one day open 
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon 
This bold bad man. 

Siif. And free us from his slavery. 

Nor. We had need pray. 
And heartily, for bur deliverance ; 
Or this imperious man will work us all 
From princes into pages : all men's honours 
Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'^ 
Into what pitch he please \ 

Suf. For me, my lords, 

I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed : 
As I am made without him, so I'll stand. 
If the king please; his curses and his blessings 
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. 
I knew him, and I know him ; so I leave him 
To him, that made him proud, the pope. 

Nor. Let's in; 

And, with some other business, put the king 
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon 

him : — 
My lord, you'll bear us company? 

Cham. Excuse me; 

The king hath sent me other-where : besides, 

' It was the main end or object of Wolsej to bring aboat a 
marriage between Henry and the French king's sister, the dochess 
of Aleil9on. 

' The meaning is, that the cardinal can, as he pleases, make 
high or low. 


You'll find a most unfit tune to disturb him : 
Health to your lordships. 

Nor. Thanks> my good lord chamberlain. 

[Exit Lord Chamberlain. 

Norfolk opens a folding door. 7^ King is dis- 
covered sitting ^ and retuiing pensively^. 

' Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted. 

K. Hen. Who is there? ha? 

Nor. *Pray God, he be not angry. 

K.Hen. Who's there> I say? How dare you 
thrust yourselves 
liito my private meditations ? 
Who am I? ha? 

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences 
Malice ne'er meant; our breach of duty, this way. 
Is business of estate ; in which, we come 
To know your royal pleasure. 

K. Hen. You are too bold ; 

Go to; 111 make ye know your times of business : 
Is this an hour for temporal affairs? hii? — 

* The stage direction in the old copy is singular— * Exit Lord 
Chamberlain, and the King draws the curtain and sits reading 
pensiyelj.' — This was caloolated for the state of th^ theatre in 
Shakspeare's time. When a person was io be discovered in a 
different apartment from that in which the original speakers in 
the scene are exhibited, the artless mode of that time was, to 
place snch person in the back part of the stage^ behind the ear- 
tains which were occasionallj suspended across it. These the 
person who was to be discovered (as Henry in the present 
case), drew back just at the proper time. Norfolk has just said 
' Let's in ;' and therefore should himself do some act in order 
to visit the king. This indeed, in the simple state of the old 
stage, was not attended to; the king very civilly discovering 
himself. See Malone's account of the Old Theatres in Mr. Boft- 
weirs edition, vol. ii. 

SC. II. KING HENRY Vlti; 213 

Enter Wolsey and Campeius. 

Who'8 there? my good lord cardinal?— O, my 

- Wolsey, 
The quiet of my wounded conscience, 
Thou art a cure fit for a king.— You're welcome, 

[To Campeius^ 
Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom ; 
Use us, and it : — My good lord, have great care 
I be not found a talker*. [7b Wolsey. 

WoL Sir, you cannot. 

I would, your grace would give us but an hour 
Of private conference. 

K, Hen* We are busy; go. 

[To Norfolk and Suffolk. 
Nor. This priest has no pride in him? 
Suf. Not to speak of; 

I would not be so sick though^, for his 

place : 
But tiiis cannot continue. 

Nor. If it do, 

m venture one have at him ^. 

Suf. I another. J 

[Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk. 

* The meaning appears to be, ' Let care be taken that my 
proniise .be performed, that mj professions of welcome be not 
found empty talk.' Thns in King Richard III, : — 

* — — we will not stand to prate. 
Talkers are no great doers.' 

* ue, so tich as he is proud. 

' Steeyens reads 'one heave at him;' bat sorely without ne- 
cessity. To have at any thing or person meant to attaci it, in 
ancient phraseology. SnrriBy afterwards says : — 

* have at you. 

First that without the king,' &o. 
The phrase is derived (like many other old popular phrases) 
from gaming: ' to hflve. at all' was to throw for all that wa§ 
staked on the board, adventuring on the coat an equal stake. 

> Aside. 


Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom 
Above all princes^ in committing freely 
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom : 
Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you ? 
The Spanii^rd, tied by blood and favour to her. 
Must now confess, if they have any goodness, 
The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms. 
Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judg- 
Invited by your noble self, hath sent 
One general tongue unto us, this good man. 
This just and learned priest. Cardinal Campeius; 
Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. 
K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms I bid 
him welcome. 
And thank the holy conclave for their loves ; 
They have sent n^e such a man I would have wish'd 
Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' 
loves, * 
You are so noble : To your highness' hand 
I tender my commission ; by whose virtue, 
(The court of Rome commanding), — ^you, my lord 
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant. 
In the unpartial judging of this business. 
K.Heit. Two equal men. The queen shall be 
Forthwith, for what you come :— Where's Gardiner? 
WoL I know, your majesty has always lov'd her 
So dear in heart, not to deny her that 
A woman of less place might ask by law, 
Scholars, allow'd freely to aipie for her. 

K. Hen. Ay, and the best, she shall have ; and 
my favour 
To.him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal, 


Pr^ythee, call Gardiner to me, my aew secretary; 
I find him a fit fellow. [Exit Wolset. 

Re-enter WoLSBY, with Gardiner. 


Wof. Give me your hand : much joy and favour 
to you; 
You are the king's now. 

Gard. But to be commanded 

For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. 


K. Hen* Come hither, Gardiner. 

[ They converse apart* 

Cam, My lord of York, was not one Doctor^Pace 
In tiiis man's place before him? 

WoL Yes, he was. 

Cam. Was he not held a learned man ? 

WoL Yes, surely. 

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then 
Even of yourself, lord cardinal. 

WoL How! of me? 

Cam. They will not stick to say, you envied him ; 
And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous. 
Kept him a foreign man^ still ; which so grieved him. 
That he ran mad, and died^. 

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him ! 

That's Christian care enough : for living murmurers. 
There's places of rebuke. He was a fool; 
For he would needs be virtuous : That good fellow, 

* i. e. kept him oat of the king's presence, emplojed in foreign 

* 'Abonte this time the king receired into favour Doctor 
Stephen Gardiner, whose service he used in matters of great 
secrecie and weight, admitting him in the room of Doctor Pace, 
the which being continaallj abrode in ambassades, and the same 
oftentjmes not mach necessarie, by the Cardinalles appointment, 
at length he toke snch greefe tberwith, that he fell oat of his 
right wittes.' — HoU$uk€d. 

216 KING HENRY yill. ACT JI. 

If I command him, follows my appointment; 

I will have none so near else, JUeam this, brother, 

We live not to b^ grip'd by meaner persons. 

K. Hen, Deliver tins with modesty to the queen. 

[Exit Gardiner. 
The most convenient place that 1 can think of. 
For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars ; 
There ye shall meet about this weighty business : — 
My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.; — O, my lord. 
Would it not grieve an able man, to leave 
So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, consci- 

ence, — 
.0, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. 



An Antechamber in the Queen's Apartments. 

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady. 

AuTie, Not for that neither; — Here's the pang 
that pinches : 
His highness having liv'd so long with her : and she 
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
Pronounce dishonour of her, — ^by my life, 
She never knew harm-doing; — O now, after 
So many courses of the sun enthron'd. 
Still growing in a majesty and pomp, — the which 
To leave is a thdusand-fold more bitter, than 
^is sweet at first to acquire, — after this process. 
To give her the avaunt^ ! it is a pity 
Would move a monster. 

Old L. ' Hearts of jnost hard temper 

Melt and lament for her. 

* To send her away contemptaoqsljr; to pronounce against her 
a sentence of ejection. 


Anne, ' O, God'^ will! much better. 

She ne'er had known pomp : though it be temporal. 
Yet, if that quarrel, fortune, do divorce ^ 
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging 
As soul and body's severing^. 

Old L, Alas, poor lady \ 

She's a stranger now again ^. 

Anne, * So much the more 

Must pity drop upon her. Verily, 
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly bom. 
And range with humble livers in content. 
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

Old L, Our content 

Is our best having^. 

Anne, By my troth, and maidenhead, 

I would not be a queen. 

Old L, Beshrew me, I would. 

And venture maidenhead for't; and so would you, 
For. all this spice of your hypocrisy: 
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, 

' I think with Steevens that we shoald read : — 
' Yet if that qaarrel, fortane to divorce 
It from the bearer,' &c. 

i.e. if any qaarrel happen or chance to divorce it from the 
bearer, ^o fortune is a verb, used bj SEakspeare in The Two 
Gentlemen of Verona : — 

' I'll tell yoa as we pass along 

That you will wonder what hath fortuned,* 

' Thus in Antony and Cleopatra : — 

' The sonl and body rive not more at parting 
. Than greatness going off.' 

To pang is nsed as a verb active by Skelton, in his book of Philip 
Sparrow, 1568, sig. R v. : — 

' What heaviness did me pange* 

* The revocation of her husband's love has redaced her to 
the condition of an unfriended stranger. Thus in Lear : — 
' Dower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath.' 
' Our best possession. See vol. i. p. 236, note 4. 

A I 


Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet 

Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; 

Which, to say sooth, are blessings : and which gifts 

(Saving your mincing) the capacity 

Of your soft cheveril® conscience would receive. 

If you might please to stretch it. 

Anne. Nay, good troth,— ^ 

OkL X. Yes, troth, and troth, — ^You would not 
be a queen? 

Anne, No, not for all the riches under heaven. 

OldL. Tib strange; a threepence bowed would 
hire me. 
Old as 1 am, to queen it : But, I pray you. 
What think you of a duchess? have you limbs 
To bear that load of title ? 

Anne* No, in truth. 

Old L, Then you are weakly made : Pluck off a 
I would not be a young count in your way. 
For more than blushing comes to : if your back 
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak 
Ever to get a boy. 

Anne. How you do talk I 

I swear again, I would not be a queen 
For all the world. 

Old L. ' In faith, for little England 

You'd yenture an emballing® : I myself 

< CheverU is kid leather, which, being of a soft yielding 
tore, is often alluded to in comparisons for any thing pUtmi or 
jlexible. We have this epithet applied in the same way in His- 
triomastix, 1610 : — 

* The cheveril conscience of cormpted law.' 

7 Anne Ballen declining to be either a queen or a dmehsss, the 
old lady says, ' plack off a little :' let us descend a little lower, 
and so diminish the glare of preferment by bringing it nearer 
yonr own quality. 

' ' i. e. yon woald ventnre to be distinguished by the batt, tbe 
ensign of royalty, used with the sceptre at coronations.- 


Would for Carnanronshire, although there 'long'd 
No more to the crown but that, ho, who comes here ? 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 

Cham. Good morrow> ladies. What wer't worth 
to know 
The secret of your conference? 

Anne. ' My good lord^ 

Not your demand ; it.values not your asking : 
Qur mistress' sorrows we were pitying. 

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming 
The action of good women : there is hope, 
All will be well. 

Anne. ' Now I pray God, amen ! 

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly 
Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady. 
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's 
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty 
Conunends his good opinion to you ^, and 
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing 
Than marchi(mess of Pembroke; to which title 

Malone saggests that we might read ' an empaUing* i. e. being 
inrested wiUi the paU of royalty or robe of state. The yerb is 
used by Chapman in his version of the eighth book of the 
Odyssey : — 

' — — * such a radiance as doth round empaU 

Crown'd Cytherea.* 
' I cannot Bat be surprised that Malone should have made 
any difficulty about the reading of the text: — 

* the king's majesty 

Commends his good opinion to yon.' 
It is one of the most common forms of epistolary and colloquial 
compUmeiU of our ancestors, whose letters frequently terminate 
with * and so I commend me to you,' or begin with * After my 
hartie commendacions to you,' &c. The instances cited by 
Steevens from Lear and Antony and Cleopatra are not exactly 
|n point; for the word commend, in both those instances, signi- 
fies commit. 


A thousand pound a year, annual support, 
Out of his grace he adds. 

Anne. I do not know, 

What kind of my obedience I should tender ; 
More than my all is nothing ^^: nor my prayers 
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes 
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers, and 

Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lorddhip. 
Vouchsafe to speak iny thanks, and my obedience. 
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ; 
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for. 

Cham. Lady» 

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit ^^, 
The king hath of you. — I have perus'd her well ; 

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled. 
That they have caught the king : and who knows yet. 
But from this lady may proceed a gem. 
To lighten all this isle i'^?— I'll to the king. 
And say, I spoke with you. * 

Anne. My honour'd lord. 

[Exit Lord Chamberlain. 

Old L. Why, this it b ; see, see ! 
I have been begging sixteen years in court 

^® Not only mj all is nothing ; bat if my all were more than 
it is, it were still nothing. Thas in Macbeth :— 

' More is thy dne than more than all can pay.' 

'* To approve is not, as Johnson explains it, here to strengthen 
hy commendationf bat to confirm (by the report he shall make) 
the good opinion the king has formed. 

'^ The carbancle was sapposed by oar ancestors to have in- 
trinsic light, and to shine in the dark : any other gem may reflect 
light, bat cannot give it. Thas in a Palace described in Amadis 
de Gaale, 1619, fol. p. 5 : — ' In the roofe of a chamber hang two 
lampes of gold, at the bottomes whereof were enchafed two car- 
bancles, which gave so bright a splendour roand about the 
roome, that there was no neede of any other light.' 


(Am yet a courtier beg^rly), nor could 

Come pat betwixt too early and too Iate» 

For any suit of pounds : and you, (O fate !) 

A very fresh-fish here, (fye, fye upon 

This compelled fortune !) have your mouth fili'd up. 

Before you open it. 

Anne. This is strange to me. 

Old L. How tastes it ? is it bitter ? forty pence ^'^ no. 
There was a lady once ('tis an old story), 
That would not be a queen, that would she not. 
For all the mud in Egypt ^*: — Have you heard it? 

Anne, Come, you are pleasant. 

Old L. With your theme, I could 

O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke ! 
A thousand pounds a year ! for pure respect; 
No other obligation : By my life, 
That promises more thousands : Honour's train 
Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time, 
I know, your back will bear a duchess; — Say, 
Are you not stronger than you were? 

Anne, Good lady. 

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy. 
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being. 
If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me. 
To think what follows. 
The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful 

'' Forty pence was in those days the proTerhial expression of 
ft small wager. Thus in The Story of King Darins, an inter- 
lude : — 

' Nay, that I will not for forty pence.' 

Again in The Longer thoa Livest the more Fool Thou art, 1570: 

' I dare wage with any mtLa forty pence,' 

Money was then reckoned by pounds, marks, and nobhs. Forty 
pence, or three and fonrpence, is half a noble, and is still an 
.established legal fee. 

^* The fertility of £igypt is derived from the mad and slime 
of the Nile. 



In our long absence : Pray, do not deliver 
What here you hfive heard, to her. 

Old L, What do you think me ? 


SCENE IV. .4 HaU in Black-Friars. 

Trumpets sennet^, and comets. Enter two Vergers, 
voith short silver wands; next them, two Scribes, 
in the habits of doctors; after them, the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury aUme ; after him the Bishops. 
of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint Asaph ; 
next them, with some small distance, follows a 
Gentleman hearing the purse, with the great seal, 
and a cardinaPs hat; then two Priests, bearing 
each a silver cross ; then a Gentleman Usher bare- 
headed, accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, 
hearing a silver mace; then two Gentlemen, bear- 
ing two great silver pillars^; after them,, side by 
side, the two Cardinals, Wolsey and Cam- 
PEius; two Noblemen with the sword and mace. 
Then enter the King and Queen, anc? their Trains. 
J^ King takes place under the cloth of state ; 
the two Cardinals sit under him as judges. The 

' This word sennet y aboi^t which there has beeo so mach dis- 
cussion to little parpose, is nothing more than the senne of the 
old French, or the segno or segneUa of the Italians, a signal given 
by sound of trampet — ' signum dare bnceina.' We find it spelt 
signate] ngnety and eren synnet or cynet» It was distinct from a 
flourish, with which Malone and others hare confounded it, as 
appears from Decker's Satiromastix, in which one of the stage 
directions is ' Trumpets sound a flmtrish, and then a sennet.* 
Some have derived it from the Italian sonata ; and to this ety- 
mology the following passage of Bertii, which I have met with, 
may give some colour: — 

' Senza indugiar si mette a bocca il corno 
Per far la terza et ultima sonata,' 

OrL Jnam, lib. i. c. xxiv. st. 621 
^ Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals. 


Queen takes place at some distance from the King. 
The Bishops picice themselves on each side the 
court, in manner of a consistory: between them, 
the Scribes. The Lords sit next tJie Bishops. 
The Crier and the rest of the Attendants stand in 
convenient order about the stage, 

WoL Whilst our commission from Rome is read, 
Let silence be commanded. 

K. Hen. What's the need? 

It hath already publickly been read. 
And on all sides the auUiority allow'd; 
You may then spare that time. 

WoL Be't so : — ^Proceed. 

Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into 
the court. 

Crier. Henry kmg of England, <&c. 

K. Hen. Here. 

Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come 
into court. 

Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c. 

[ TTie Queen makes no answer, rises out of her chair, 
goes about the court, comes to the King, and kneels 
at his feet; then speaks^.] 

Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and justice * ; 
And to bestow your pity on me : for 
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger. 
Bom out of your dominions ; having here 

' ' Because she coald not come directly to the king for the 
distance which severed them, she took pain to go abont nnio 
the king, kneeling down at his feet,' &c. — Cavendish's Life of 
Wolsey, vol. i. p. 149, ed, 1825. 

^ This speech is taken from Holinshed (who copies from 
Cavendish) with the most trifling variations. Hall has given a 
different report of the queen's speech, which, be says, was made 
in French, and translated bj him from notes taken by Cam.-<^ 
peggio's secretary. 


No judge iodifferenty nor no more assurance 

Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, ek. 

In what have I offended you ? wlmt cause 

Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure. 

That thus you should proceed to pat me off. 

And take your good grace from me 7 Heaven witness, 

I have been to you a true and humble wife, 

At all times to your will conformable: 

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 

Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry. 

As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, 

I ever contradicted your desire. 

Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends 

Have I not strove to' love, although I knew 

He were mine enemy? what friend of mine 

That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I 

Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice 

He was from thence discharg'd ? Sir, call to mind 

That I have .been your wife, in this obedience. 

Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 

With many children by you : If, in the course 

And process of this time, you can report. 

And prove it too^against mine honour aught. 

My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty. 

Against your sacred person^, in God's name. 

Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 

Shut door upon me, and so give me up 

To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir. 

The king, your father, was reputed for 

A prince most prudent, of an excellent 

And unmatched wit and judgment : Ferdinand, 

My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one 

The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many 

' That is, ' If joa can report and prove aught against mine 
honour, my love and duty, cr ttugki against your sacred person/ 



A year before: It is not to be questioned 
That they had gathered a wise council to them 
Of every realm, that did debate this business. 
Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore I 

Beseech you,' sir, to spare me, till I may 
Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel 
I will implore : if not; i' the name of Grod, 
Your pleasure be f ulfiU'd^ ! 

Wol. You have here, lady, 

(And of your choice), these reverend fathers ; men 
Of singular integrity and learning. 
Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled 
To plead your cause : It shall be therefore bootless, 
That longer you desire the court ^ ; as well . 
For your own quiet, as to rectify 
What is unsettled in the king. 

Cam. His grace 

Hath spoken well, and justly : Therefore, madam. 
It's fit this royal session do proceed ; 
And that, without delay, their arguments 
Be now produc'd, and heard. 

Q. Kath. Lord cardinal, — • 

To you I speak. 

WoL Youi' pleasure, madam? 

Q.Kath. Sir, 

I am about to weep; but, thinking that 
We are a queen (or long have dream'd so), certain, 

* The historical fact is, that the qaeen staid for no reply to 
this speech. Cavendish says, ' And with that she rose up, 
making a low courtesy to the king, and so departed from thence. 
Many supposed that she would have resorted again to her for- 
mer place ; . bat she took her way straight out of the house, 
leaning (as she was wont alwtf^s to do) upon the arm of her 
general receiver Master Griffiths.*— Xri/c of Wolsetfy p. 162. • ' 

"^ That you desire to ^protract the business of the court. ' To 
pray for a longer day,' i. e. a more distant one, is yet the lan- 
guage of the bar in criminal trials. 


The daughter of a king; my drops of tears 
111 turn to sparks of fire. 

WoL Be patient yet. 

Q. Katk. I will, whea you are humble ; nay, before. 
Or God will punish me. I do believe, 
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that • 
You are mine enemy; and make my challenge ^» 
You shall not be my judge : for it is you 
Have blown this coal betwixt qiy lord and me, — 
Which Crod's dew quench I — Therefore, I say again, 
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul. 
Refuse you for my judged; whom, yet once more, 
I hold my most mahcious foe, and think not 
At all a friend to truth. 

WoL I do profeis9» 

You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 
Have stood to charity, and displayed the effects 
Of dispositioh gentle, and of wisdom 
O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me 

.wrong : 
I have no spleen against you ; uot iiyustice 
For you, or any: how far I have proceeded, 
Or how far further shall, is warranted 
By a commission from the consistory. 
Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me. 
That I have blown this coal : I do deny it : 
The king is present: if it be known to him. 
That I gainsay ^^ my deed, how may he wound. 
And worthily, my falsehood ? yea, as much 
As you have done my truth. But if he know 

* ChaUenge here (sajs Johnson) is a law term. The criminal, 
when he refases a jaryman, says ' I challetufe him.' 

' These are not the mere words of pastion, but technioal 
terms of the canon law : deiestor and ncuao. The former, in the 
langnagre of canonists, signifies no mordthan IproUH against. 

»" Deny. 


That I am free of your report> he knows, 

I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him 

It lies, to cure me ; and the cure is, to 

Remove these thoughts from you : The which before 

His highness shall speak in, I do beseech 

You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking. 

And to say so no more. 

Q. Kath. My lord, my lord, 

I am a ^mple woman, much too weak 
To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and hum- 
ble moulh'd; 
You sign your place and calling, in full seeihing^^. 
With meekness and humility ; but your heart 
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride* 
You have, by fortune, and his highness* favours. 
Gone slightly o'er low steps ; and now are mounted 
Where powers are your retainers : and your wards ^*, 
Domesticks to you, serve your will, as't please- 
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you. 
You tender more your person's honour, than 
Your high profession spiritual : That again 
I do refuse you for my judge ; and here. 
Before you all, appeal unto the pope, 

*^ Yoa show m appearance meekness and hnmllity, as a token 
or outward sign of jour place and calling; bat jonr heart is 
crammed witit-arrogaooj, &c. 
** The old copy reads : — 

' Where powers are jour retainers ; and jour words, 

Domesticks to jon/ &c. 
I think with Mr. Tyrwhitt that we should read wards instead of 
words. The queen means fb say. That the great and powerful 
were among his retainers, and that his wards (generally yoang 
nobility) were placed in domestic offices about his person to 
swell his state and retinne. This was the fact, and is made one 
of the principal charges against him. 

' I most have notice where their wards mnst dwell ; 

I car'd not for the gentry, for I had 

Young nobles of the land/ &c. 

Storer's Metrical lAfe of Wolsey, 1599. 


To bring my whole cause 'fore hi^ holiness, 
And to be judg'd by him. 

[She curtsies to the Kingj and offers to depart. 

Cam, The queen is obstinate. 

Stubborn: to justice, apt to accitse it, and 
Djsdidnful to be try'd by it; 'tis not well. 
She's going away. 

K, Hen. Call her again. 

Crier. Katharine queen of England, co^me into 
the court. 

Grif. Madam, you are calFd' back. 

Q. Katk. What need you note it ? pray you, 
. keep your way : 
When you are call'd, return. — Now the Lord help. 
They vex me past my patience ! — pray you, pass on : 
I wQl not tarry : . no, nor ever more, 
[Upon this business, my appearance make 
In any of their courts. 

[Exeunt Queen, Griffith, and other 

K, Hen. Go thy ways, Kate: 

That man \' the world, who shall report he has ' 
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted. 
For speaking false in that; Thou art, alone, 
(If thy rare qiiali^es, sweet gentleness. 
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, — 
Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts 
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out^^). 
The queen of earthly queens : — She is. noble born ; 
And, like her true nobility, she has 
Carried herself towards me. 

*^ If thj several qaalities had tongues capable of speaking 
out thy merits, i.e. of doing them extensive justice. In Cjmbe- 
line we have a similar expression :— • 

yoa speak him far 

although not there.' 


Wol, Most gracious sir. 

In liumblest manner I require your highness. 
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing 
Of all these ears (for where I am robb'd and bound. 
There must I be unloosed; although not there 
At oiice and folly satisfied ^'^), whether ever I 
Did broach this business to your highness ; of 
Laid ajiy scruple in your way, which might 
Induce you to the question on't? or ever 
Have to you^ — but with thanks to God for such 
A royal lady, — spake one the least word, might 
Be to the prejudice of her present state. 
Or touch of her good person? 

K. Hen, My lord cardinal, 

I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour, 
I free you from't. You are not to be taught 
That you have many enemies, that know not 
Why they are so, but, like to village curs. 
Bark when their feUows d6 : by some of these 
The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd : 
But will you be more justified^ you ever 
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never 
Desir'd it to be stirr'd; but ofk have hindered; oft 
The passages made toward it : — on my honour, 
I speak my good lord cardinal to this point ^^, 
And thus far clear him. Now, what movM me to't, — 
I will be bold with time, and your attention : — 
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came; — give 
heed to't : — 

^* The sense, which is encumbered with words, is no more 
than this : — I must be loosed^ ihongh when so loosed I shall not 
be satisfied fioUy and at once; that is, 1 shall not be immediately 

^ The king, having first addressed Wolsej, breaks ofi^; and 
declares npon his hononr to the whole court, that he speaks the 
cardinal's sentiments upon the point in qaestion; and clears 
bim from any attempt or wish to stir that business. 



My conscience first receiy'd a tenderness. 

Scruple, and prick ^^, on certain speeches utter'd 

By the bishop of Bayonne, then Fr^ich ambassador ; 

Who had been hither sent on the debating 

A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and 

Our daughter Mary : I' the progress of this business. 

Ere a determinate resolution, he 

(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite ; 

Wherein he might the ki&g his lord advertise 

Whether our daughter were legitimate, 

Bespecting this our marriage with the dowager. 

Sometimes our brother's wife. This respite skook 

The bosom of my conscience^'', eoter'd me. 

Yea, l¥kii a splitting power, and made to tremble 

The region of my breast; which forced such way. 

That many maz'd considerings did throng. 

And press'd in with this caution. First, methought, 

I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had 

Commanded nature, that my lady's womb. 

If it conceir'd a male child by me, should 

Do no more offices of life to't, than 

The grave does to the dead : for her male issue 

Or died where they were made, or shortly after 

This world had air'd them : Hence I took a thought. 

This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom, 

*' The words of Cayendish are — ' Tke special cause that 
moved me hereanto was a scmpalositj that pricked my coi»- 
$cience,* — See also ffoUnshed, p. 967. 

^ Theobald thoag^ht we should read < The bottom of his con- 
science.' Thus Holinshed, whom the poet follows pretty accn- 
ratelj : — ' TVhich word«^ once conceived within the secret bottom 
of my conscience, ingendred snch a 'scrapnlons doubt, that ny 
conscience was incontinently aocomlHwd and v^cced, avd dis- 
quieted.'— Henry VIII, p. 907. 

Shakspeare uses the phrase in King Henry VI. Part I. :-*t 
' The very bottom and the soul of hope.' 

It is repeated in King Henry VI. Part ii. ; in Measure for Mear 
sure ; All's Well that Ends W«]| y Coridanus, &c. 


Well wortby the best heir o' the world, should not 

Be gladded in't by me : Then follows, that 

I weighed Ihe danger which my realms stood in 

By this my issue's fail ; and that gave to me 

Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling ^^ in 

The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer 

Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 

Now present here together; thafs to say, 

I meant to rectify my conscience, — which 

I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, — 

By all the reverend fathers of the land. 

And doctors leam'd, — ^First, I began in private 

With you, my lord of Lincoln ; you remember 

How under my oppression I did reek ^^, 

When I first mov'd you. 

. Im. Very well, my liege. 

K. Hen. I have spoke long ; be pleas'd yourself 
to say 
How far you satisfied me. 

Xt9». So please your highness, 

The question did at first so stagger me, — 
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't, 
And consequence of dread, — that I coounitted 
The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt; 
And did entreat your highness to this course, 
Which you are running here. 

K. Hen,. I then mov'd you, 

]Vf y lord of Canterbury ; and got your leave 
To make this present summons: — Unsoliciited 
I left no reverend person in this court ; 
But by particular consent proceeded, 

** The phrase helongs to navigation. A ship is said to hull 
when she is dismasted, and only her hviXX or haXk is left at the 
direction and mercy of the wayes. Thus in The Alarm for 
London, 1602 :— 

' And they lye huUing up and down the stream.' 

*' Waste, or wear away. 


Under ypur hands and seals. Therefore^ go on : 
For no dislike i' the world against the person 
Of the good queen^ but the sharp thorny points 
Of my alleged reasons> drive this forward :> 
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life. 
And kingly dignity^ we are contented 
To wear our mortal state. to come, with her, 
Katharine our queea, before the primest creature. 
That's paragon'd^*^ o' the world. 

Cam. So please your highness. 

The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness 
That we adjourn this court till further day : 
Mean while must be an earnest motion 
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal 
She intends unto his holiness* [ They rise to depart. 

K. Hen. I may perceive, [Aside. 

These cardinals trifle with me : I abhor 
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. 
My leam'd and well beloved servant, Cranmer, 
Pr'ythee return ^^! with thy approach, I know. 
My comfort comes along. Break up the court:. 
I say, set on. {Exeunt^ in manner as they entered. 

^ Shakspeare uses the verb to paragon both in Antonj and 
Cleopatra and Othello : — 

' If tboa with Caesar paragon ag^ain 
Mj man of men/ 

* ■' a maid 

That paragons description and wild fame.' 

^ This is onlj an. apostrophe to the absent bishop of that 



SCENE I. Palace at Bridewell. 

A Room in the Queen's Apartment. 

The Queen, and some of her Women, at worh^. 

Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench : my soul grows 
sad with troubles ; 
Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst : leave working. 


Orpheus toith his lute made trees. 
And the mountain tops, that freeze. 

Bow themselves, when he did sing 
To his musich, plants, and flowers. 
Ever sprung ; as sun, and showers. 

There had been a lasting spring. 

Every thing that heard him play. 
Even the Hllows of the sea. 

Hung their heads, and then lay by. 
In sweet musick is such art; 
Killing care, and grief of heart, 

Fall asleep, or, hearing, di£. 

Enter a Gentleman. 
Q.Kath, How now? 

^ Cavendish, who Appears to have been present at this inter- 
view of the cardinal's with the qaeen, says — "She eame oat of 
her privy chamber with a skein of white thread about her neck 
into the chamber of presence.' A subsequent speech of the 
qneen's is nearly conformable to what is related in Cavendish, 
and copied by Holinshed« 



Gent. An't please your grace, the two great car- 
Wait in the presence^. 

Q. Kath, Would they speak with me ? 

Gent, They will'd me say so, madam. 

Q. Kath. ^ Pray theit graces 

To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their 

With me, a poor w;eak woman, fallen from favour? 
I do not like their coming, now I think on't. 
They should be good men ; their affairs ^ as righteous : 
But all hoods make not monks. 

Enter Wolsey and Campeius. 

Wol. Peace to your highness ! 

Q. Kath. Your graces find me here part of a 
housewife ; 
I would be all, against the worst may happen. 
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? 

Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw 
Into your private chamber, we shall give you 
The full cause of our coming. 

Q. Kath. Speak it here ; 

There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience. 
Deserves & corner : 'Would, all other women 
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do ! 
My lords, I care not (so much I am happy 
Above a number), if my actions 
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, 

' Presence chamber. 

' < Being churchmen they should be yirtnoas, and every bu- 
siness they undertake as righteous as their sacred office : bat 
all hoods make not monks.' In allusion to the Latin proverb — 
CucuUus nonfaeit monacAtim, to which Chancer also alludes: — 
' Habite ne maketh monke ne frttt ,* 
But a cjene life. and devotion, 
Maketh gode men of religion.' 

S€. I. KING HENRY Vlllt 1185 

Envy and base opinion set against them*, 
I know my life so even : If your business 
Seek me out, and that way 1 am wife in^. 
Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing. 
Wol. Tanta est ergd te mentis integritas, regina 

serenissimaf — • 
Q. Kath, Oy good my lord, no Latin ^; 
I am not such a truant since my coming. 
As not to know the language I have liv'd in : 
A strange tpngue makes my cause more strange^ 

suspicious ; 
Pray, speak in English : here are some wiU thank you« 
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake ; 
Believe me, she has had much wrong : Lord car- . 

The willing'st sin I ever yet committed. 
May be absolv'd in English. 

Wol Noble lady, 

I am sorry, my integrity should breed 
(And service to his majesty and you^) 
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. ^ 
We come not by the way of accusation. 
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses ; 
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ; 

^ I would be glad that my conduct were in some public trial 
confronted with mine enemies, that malice and corrapt judgment 
might try their utmost power against me. 

^ This is obscurely expressed, but seems to mean, ' If your 
bnsiness is with me, and relates to the question of my marriage, 
out with it boldly.' 

^ ' Then began my lord to speak to her in Lktin. — " Nay, 
good my lord (quoth she), speak to me in English, I beseech 
yon, though I understand Latin" '. — dneHiish, 

7 This line stands so awkwardly, and out of its place, that 
Bfr. Edwards's, proposition to transpose it should be adopted, 
thus : — 

, ' I am sorry my integrity should breed 

So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant, 
And service to his migesty and you.' 


You have too much» good lady : but to know 
How you stand minded in the weighty differ^Kse 
Between the king and you ; and to deliver, 
Like free and honest men, our just opinions. 
And comforts to your cause. 

Cam. Most honoured madam. 

My lord of York, — out of his noble nature, 
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace; 
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
Both of his truth and him (which was too far),— 
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace. 
His service and his counsel. 

Q. Kath* To betray me. [Ande. 

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills. 
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so !) 
But how to make you suddenly an answer. 
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour 
(More near my life, I fear), with my weak wit. 
And to such men of gravity and learning. 
In truth, I know not. I was set at work 
Among my maids ; full little, God knows, looking 
Either for such men, or such business. 
For her sake that I have been ^ (for I feel 
The last fit of my greatness), good your graces. 
Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause ; 
Alas ! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. 

Wol, Madam, you wrong the king's love with 
these fears ; 
Your hopes and friends are infinite. 

Q. Kath, In England, 

But little for my profit : Can you think, lords, 
That any Englishman dare give me counsel ? 
Or be a known ftiend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure 
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest), 

* For the sake of that rojralty which I haro heretofore pos- 


• « 

And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends. 
They that must weight out my afflictions, 
Tliey that my trust must grow to, live not here ; , 
Tliey are, as all my other comforts, far hence. 
In mine own country, lords. 

Cam. I would, your grace 

Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. 

Q.Kath. How, sir? 

Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro- 
tection ; 
He's loving, and most gracious ; 'twill be much 
Both for your honour better, and your cause; 
For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you. 
You'll part away disgrac'd. 

WoL He tells, you rightly.. 

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my 
Is this your Christian counsel ? out upon ye ! 
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, , . 
That no king can corrupt. 

Cam. Your rage, mistakes us. 

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye ^^ ; holy men I 
thought ye. 
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues : 
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye : 
Mend Ihem for shame, my lords. Is this your com- 
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ? 
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd ? 
I will not wish ye half my miseries, 
I have more charity: .But say, I wam'd ye; 

' Weigh out for out^weigh. In Macbeth we have owrcome for 
come over, 

>^ If I mistake jou, it is by your fault, not mine; for I 
thoaght yon good. 


Take heed, for heav^en's sake, take heed, lest at oBoe 
The burden of my sorrows faU upon ye. 

WoL Madam, this is a mere distraction ; 
You turn the good we offer into enyy. 

Q. Katk. Ye turn me into nothing : Woe upon ye. 
And all such false professors ! Would ye have me 
(If you have any justice, any pity; 
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits) 
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? 
Alas ! he has banish'd me his bed already ; 
His lore too long ago : I am old, my lords. 
And all the fellowship I hold now with him 
Is only my obedience. What can happen 
To me, above this wretchedness ? all your studies 
Make me a curse like this. 

Cam. Your fears are worse. 

Q, Kath, Have I liy'd thus long — (let me speak 
Since virtue finds no friends), — a wife, a true one? 
A woman (I dare say, without ycun-glory), 
Never yet branded with suspicion ? 
Have I with all my full affections 
Still met the king? lov'd him next heaven? obey'd 

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ^^ ? 
Almost forgot my prayers to content him? 
And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well> lords. 
Bring me a constant woman to her husband, 
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure ; 
And to that woman, when she has done most. 
Yet will I add ah honour, — a great patience. 

WoL Madam, you wander from the good we 
aim at. 

Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, 

'* Served him with superstitious attention. 


To give up willingly that noble tide 

Your master wed me to : nothing but death 

Shall e'er divorce my dignitiefl. 

WoL 'Pray» hear me. 

Q. Katk. 'Would 1 had never trod this English 
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it ! 
Ye have Angels' faces ^y but heaven knows your 

What win become of me now, wretched lady? 
I am the most unhappy woman living.— 
Alas ! poor wenclies, where are now youv ibrlunes? 

[To her Women. 
SMpwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity. 
No fri^nds^ no hoper; no kindred weep for me,r 
Almost, no grave allow'd me : — like the lily, 
That once was mistress of the field ^', and flourished, 
111 hang my head, and peridb. 

WoL If youf grace 

Could but be brought to know, our exkds are honest. 
You'd feel more comfort : why should we, good lady, 
Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas ! our places. 
The way of our profession is agamst it; 
We lure to cux« such sorrows, not to sow them. 
For goodliess' sake, consider what you do; 
Bow ydu may hurt yourself, ay, utterly 
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by ibis carriage. 
The hearts of princes kiss obedience. 
So much they love it; bdt to stubborn spirits, 

>' Thift is an diuion to the old jhigle 4if AngU BxuiAtigA 
Tbas N«ihe in his Anatomj of Absurdity, 1689 :-»•' For ny part 
I meaoe to suspend my sentence, and let an author of late me- 
morie be my speaker ; who affirmeth that they carry angeh tp 
their faces y and dmU in their devices* 

" The lily, lady of the flowering field.' 

Spmaer, F, Q. b. ii. c. vi. st. 16. 


They swell, and grow as terrible as storms^*. 
I know, yon have a gentle, noble temper, 
A soul as even as a calm ; Pray, think us 
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser- 
vants. > 
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your 
With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit. 
As yours was put into you, ever casts 
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves 

Beware, you lose it not : For us, if you please 
To trust us in your business, we are ready 
To use our utmost studies in your service. 

Q. Kdth. Do what ye will, my lords : And, pray, 
forgive me. 
If I have us'd ^^ myself unmannerly ; 
You know, I am a woman, lacking wit 
To make a seemly answer to such persons. 
Pray j do my service to his majesty : 
He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers. 
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, 
Bestow your counsels on me : she now begi^. 
That little thought, when she set footing here, 
She should have bought her dignities, so dear. 


1^ It was one of the charges brought against Lord Essex, in 
the year before this play was written, bj his nngratefal kinsman 
Sir Francis Bacon, when that nobleman, to the disgrace of ha- 
manitj, was obliged by a janto of his enemies to kneel at the 
end of the cooneil table for several hours, that in a letter writ- 
ten daring his retirement in 1598 to the lord keeper, he had 
•aid, * There is no tempest to the passionate indignation of a 

" Behaved. 




Antechamber to the King's Apartment, 

Enter the Duke o/* Norfolk, the Duke of Suf- 
folk, the Earl of Surrey, and the Lord 

Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints 
And force ^ them with a constancy, the cardinal 
Cannot stand under them : If you omit 
The offer of this time, I cannot promise. 
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces, 
With these you bear already, 

Sur. I am joyful 

To meet the least occasion, that may give me 
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke. 
To be reveng'd on him. 

Suf. Which of the peers 

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least 
Strangely neglected ^ ? when did he regard 
The stamp of nobleness in any person. 
Out of himself? 

Cham. My lord, you speak your pleasures : 

What he deserves of you and me, I know ; 
What we can do to him (though now the time 
Gives way to us)^ I much fear. If you cannot 
Bar his access to the king, never attempt 
Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft 
Over the king in his tongue. 

' Force is enforce, urge. So in Measure for Measure : — 
* — — — Has he affections in him 
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose 
"When be would force it.* 
^ ' Which of the peers has not gone bj him contemned or 
neglected V When did he regard the stamp of nobleness in an/ 
person, thoagh attentive to his own dignity ? 


Nor. O, fear him not; 

His spell in that is out : the king hath found 
Matter against him, that for ever mars 
The honey of his language. No, he's settled. 
Not to come off, in his displeasure. 

S%r. Sir, 

I should be glad to hear such news as this 
Once every hour. 

Nor. Believe it, this is true. 

In the divorce, his contrary proceedings^ 
Are all unfolded; wherein he appears, 
As I could wish mine enemy. 

SuT. How came 

His practices to light? 

Suf. Most strangely. 

Sdir. O, how, how T 

Suf, The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried. 
And came to the eye o' the king : wherein was read. 
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
To stay the judgment o'the divorce: For if 
It did take place, I do, quoth he, perceive 
My king is tangled in affection to 
A creature of the qneen^Sy Lady Anne SuUen. 

Sur. Has the king this ? 

Suf, Believe it. 

Sur. 'Will this work ? 

Cham, The king in this perceives him, how he 
And hedges, his own way K But in this point 
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physick 
After his patient's death; the king already 
Hath married the failr lady. 

' i. e. his secret endeavours to ooanteract the divorce. 

* To coast is to hoyer aboat, to parsae a sidelong eanne 
about a thin^., To hedge is to creep alo^g by the hedge, not to 
take the direct and open path, but to steal covertly through eii^ 


Sur. 'WoM he had ! 

Suf, May you be happy in your wish, my lord ! 
]For, I profesSy you have it. 

iS>ttr. Now all my joy 

Trace ^ Hie coiyunction ! 

Suf, My ameii to't ! 

Nor. All men's. 

Suf. There's order given for her coronation: 
Marry, this is yet but young ^, and may be left 
To some ears unrecounted. — But, my Idrds, 
She is a gallant creature, and complete 
In mind and feature : I persuade me, from her 
Will fall some blessmg to this land, which shall 
In it be memorized '^. 

Sur. But, will the king 

Digest this letter of the cardinal's? 
The Lord forbid ! 

Nor. Marry, amen ! 

Suf. No, no; - 

There be more wasps that buz about his nose. 
Will mtike this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius 
Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; 
Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and 
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, 

' To trace is to follow, Thua in Macbeth :— 

' all anfortnnate sotils 

That irm!9 him in his line.' 

The form of Surrey's wish had been antioipated by Biohmond 
in King Richard III. sc. ult.: — 

' Smile heayen upon this fair conjunction ! 

' This same phrase ocoors again in Borneo and Jalieti Act i. 
Sc. I:— 

' Good morrow^ cousin. 

Is the day so ftnmgV 

^ To mcmoriM is to make memorable. Thus in Macbeth, 
Act i« So. 2 :— » 

' Or MMMortM another Golgotha.' 


To second all this plot. I do assure you 
The. king cry'd, ha ! at this. 

Cham. Now, God incense him^ 

And let. him cry ha, louder! 

Nor, But, my lord. 

When returns Cranmer?\ 

Suf, He is retum'd, in his opinions ; which 
Haye satisfied the king for his divorce. 
Together with all fanious colleges 
Almost in. Christendom^: shortly, I believe,. 
His second marriage shall be pubUsh'd, and 
Her coronation. Katharine no more 
Shall he call'd, queen ; but princess dowager> 
And widow to Prince Arthur. 

Nor. This same Cranmer's 

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain, 
In the king's business. . . 

Suf, He has :• and we shall see him 

For it, an archbishop. 

Nor, &o. I hear. , 

Suf. Tis so. 

The cardinal — . 

Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. 

Nor, Observe, observe, he's moody.. 

Wol, The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king ? 
Crom, To his own hand, in his bedchamber. 
Wol. Look'd. he o' the inside of the paper ? 
Crom, Presently 

* Saffelk means to saj Granmer is retnroed in his opinions, 
i. e. with the same sentiments which he entertained before he 
went abroad, which (sentiments) have satisfied the king, toge- 
ther with all the famoas colleges referred to on the occasion. 
Or perhaps the passage (as Mr. Tjrwhitt obsenres) may mean. 
He is returned in effect, having sent his opinions, i. e. . the opir 
nions of divines, &c. collected bj him. 


He did unseal them ; and the first he view'd. 
He did it with a serious mind; a heed 
Wag in his countenance : You, he bade 
Attend him here this morning. 

WoL Is he ready 

To come abroad ? 

Crom. I think) by this he is. 

WoL Leave me a while. — [Exit Cromwell. 
It shall be to the duohess of Alen9ony 
The French king's sister : he shall marry her. — 
Anne BuUen! No; I'll no Anne BuUens for him: 
There is more in it than fair visage. — Bullen ! 
No, we'll no Bullens. — Speedily I wish 
To hear from Rome.— The marchioness of Pem- 
broke ! 

Nor. He's discontented. 

Suf, May be, he hears the king 

T)oes whet his anger to him. 

Sur, Sharp enough. 

Lord, for thy justice ! 

Woi. The late queen's gentlewoman ; a knight's 
To be her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen ! — 
This Ctodle bums not clear : 'tis I must snuff it ; 
Then, out it goes. — ^What though I know her virtuous. 
And well deserving? yet I know her for 
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to 
Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of 
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up 
An heretick, an arch one, Cranmer ; one 
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king. 
And is his oracle. 

Nor. He is vexM at something. 

Suf. I would 'twere something that would fret 
the string. 
The master-cord of his heart ! 

Y 2 


Enter the King, reading a Schedule^; and Lovell. 

Suf. The king, the king. 

K. Hen, What piles of wealth hath he accumulated 
To his own portion ! and what expense by the hour s 
Seems to flow from him ! How, i' the name of thrift. 
Does he rake this together ! — Now, my lords ; 
Saw you. the cardinal? 

Nor, My lord, we have 

Stood here observing him : Some strange commotion 
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts;. 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground. 
Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight. 
Springs out into fast gait; then, stops again ^^, 
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts 
His eye against the moon : in most strange postures 
We haye seen him set himself. 

K. Hen. It may well be ; , 

There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning 
Papers of state he sent me to peruse, 
As I requir'd: And, wot^^ you what I found. 
There ; on my conscience, put unwittingly ? 
Forsooth, an inyentory., thus importing, — . 
The several parcels of his plate, his .treasure, . 
Kich stuffs, and ornaments of household; which 
I find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks 
Possession of a subject. 

^ That the cardinal gave the king an inventory of bis own 
priyate wealth; by mistake, and thereby rained himself, is a 
known variation from the truth of history. Shakspeare, how- 
ever, has not iigadicionsly represented the fall of that great 
man as owing to an incident which he had once improved to the 
destraction of another. See the story related of Thomas Rnthally 
bishop of Durham, in Holinsfaed, p. 706 and 797. 

'^ Sallnst, describing the distarbed s^ate of Cataline's mindy 
tftkes notice of the same circumstance: — ' Citos modo, modo 
tardus incessos.' 

1^ Know. 

sen. KINO HENRY VIIi; 247* 

Nor. It's heaTen's will ; 

Some spirit pat this paper in the packet, 
To.bless your eye withal. 

JT. Hen, If. we did think 

His contemplation were above the earth. 
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still 
Dwell in his musings : but, I am afraid^ 
His thinkings.are below the moon, not worths 
His serious considering. 

[He takes his seat, and whispers Lovell, who > 
goes to WoLSE\. 

WoL Heaven forgive me ! 

^J^ver God bless your highness ! 

K. Hen, Good my lord. 

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory. 
Of your best graces in your mind; the which 
You were now running o'er; you have scarce time 
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span. 
To keep your earthly audit : Sure, in that . 
I deem you an ill husband ; and am dad 
To have you.therein my companion. 

TFoL Sir, , 

Por holy offices I have a time; a time 
To think upon the part of business, which 
I bear i'the state ;. and nature does require 
Her times of preservation, which, perforce, 
I her fraiLson, amongst my brethren mortal,. 
Must give my tendance to. 

K, Hen, You have said well. . 

WoL And ever may your highness yoke together, 
As I will lend you cause, my doing well 
With my well saying ! 

K, Hen, Tis well said again ; 

And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well : 
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you : 
He said, he did ; . and with his. deed. did crown 


His word upon you ^^. Since I had my office, 
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone 
Employed you where high profits mi^t come home. 
But par'd my ^ffesent havings, to bestow 
My bounties upon you. 

WoL What should this mean? 

Sur, The Lord increase this business! [Ande. 

K. Hen. Have I not made you 

The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me. 
If what I now pronounce, you have found true : 
And, if you may confess it, say withal. 
If you are boun^l to us or no. . What say you ? 

WoL My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, 
Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could 
My studied purposes requite ; which went 
Beyond all man's endeavours ^^; — my endeavours 
Have ever come too short of my desires. 
Yet, fiUd with my abiUties: Mine own ends 
Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed 
To the good of your most sacred person, and 
The profit of the state. For your great graces 
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I 
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ; 
My prayers to heaven for you ; my loyalty. 
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing. 
Till death, that winter, kill it. 

K. Hen. Fairly answer'd; 

A loyal and obedient subject is 
Therein illustrated : The honour of it 
Does pay the act of it: as, i'the contrary, 

" So in Maobeth :— 

' To crovon my thoughts with acts.* 

^' Your royal benefits, showered upon me daily, baye been 
more than all my studied purpose could do to requite, for they 
went beyond all that man could effect in the way of gratitude. 
My endeavours have ever come too short of my desires, thpugh 
they have fiFd, i. e. equalled or kept pace with my abilities. 

so. II. . KING HENRY VIIIv 249 

The foulness is the punishment. I presume. 
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you. 
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, 

On you.^^, than any ; so your hand and heart, 
Your brain, and every function of your power. 
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of d^ity, 
As/twere in love's particular, be more 
To me, your frienci, than any ^^. 

WqL I do profess, 

That for your highness' good' I ever laboured 
More than mine own; that am, have, and will be^^. 
Though all the-world should crack their duty to you. 
And throw it from ik&r soul : though perils did 
Abound, as thick as. thought could make them, and 
Appear in forms more. horrid; yet my duty. 
As doth a rock against the chiding flood. 
Should the approach of this wild river break. 
And stand unshaken yours ^^.. 

'^ Steevens says, as Jonson is sapposed to have made some- 
alterations in this play, it may not be amiss to compare the pas- 
sage before us with another on the same subject in The New 
Inn: — ^ 

' He gave me my first breeding, I acknowledge ; 
Then showered his bounties on me like the hoars 
That open-handed sit upon the clonds, 
And press the liberality of heaven 
Down to the laps of thankful men. 
' ^ Beside your bond of duty as a loyal and obedient servant, 
you owe a particular devotion to me as your especial benefactor. 
*' This is expressed with great obscurity ; but seems to mean 
* that or such a man I am, have been, and will ever be.' 
>7 ' Ille velut pelagi rupes remota, resistit. 

^n. vii..686. 

Thus in Shakspeare's 116th Sonnet:— 

* it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken.' 

The chiding flood is the resounding flood. To chide, to babble. 


JT. Hen, Tis nobly spoken: 

Take notice, lords, he lias a loyal breast^ 
For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er this ; 

[Giving him papers • 
Andy after, this : and then to breakfast, vn^ 
What appetite you have. 

[Exit ¥jin^yjrawni$iig vpon Cardinal Wol- 
SEY : the Nobles throwg after kirn, KniUng, 
and whispering, 

WoL What should this mean ? 

What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? 
He patted frowning from me, as if ruin 
Leap'd from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion 
Upon the daring huntsman that has gdl'd him; 
Then makes him nothing. I must read this papOT ; 
I fear, the story of his anger.-^'Tis so; 
This paper has undone me :— 'Tis the account 
Of all that world of wealth I haye drawn together 
For mine own ends; indeed, to gain tfan pof^om. 
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence. 
Fit for a fool to fall by ! What cross deyil 
Made me put this main secret in the packet 

and to braud, were synonymoiu. Thus in As Yon like It, Act ii. 
So. 1 :— 

' Upon the brook that brawls along this wood.* 

In the verses in commendation of the poet, by I. M« S. prefixed 
to the folio edition of 168i : — 

* ' — ' there plays a fair 

But chiding fountain.' 

And in A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iv. Sc. 1 : — 

* hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 

Such gallant chiding, for besides the groves. 
The skies, the fountains, every region near 
Seem'd all one mutual cry.' 

So in King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 4 : — 

* — — <^ caves and womby vaultages of France 
Shall chide your trespass. 


I sent the kiBf ? Is there no way to cnre this? 

No new device to beat this froni his brains ? 

I know, 'twill stir him strongly: Yet I know 

A way^ if it take right, in spite of fortune 

Will bdiig me off again. What's thifr^ To the Pope f 

The letter, as I live, with all the business 

I writ to his hohness. Nay then, farewell ! 

I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness^^ ; 

And, from that full meridian of my glory, 

I haste now to my setting: I shall fall 

Like a bright exhalation in the evening. 

And no man see me more. 

Re-enter the Dukes of Norfolk ^^ and Suffolk, 
the Earl ^ Surrey, amd the Lord Chamber* 

Not. Hear iSbtb king's pleasure, cardinal: who 
commands you 
To render up the great seal presently 

1* Thus in Marlowe's King Edward II. : — 

' Base fortane, now I see that in thj wheel 
There is a point to which when men aspire 
They tomble headlong down. That point I toncVd; 
And seeing there was no place to moimt up highw, 
Whj shocdd I grieve at m j declining fall f 

" The time of this plaj is from 1521, jast before the dnke of 
Bnokingham's commitment, to 1533, when Elizabeth was bom 
send clururtened. The dvke of Norfolk, therefore, who is intro- 
daced in the first scene of the first act, or in 1522, i» not the 
same person who here, or in 1520, demands the great seal from 
Wolsej ; for the former died in 1525. Having thus made two 
persona into one, so the poet has on the contrary made one per- 
son into two. The earl of Surrey here is the same who married 
(he duke of Buckingham's daughter, as he himself tell us : but 
Thomas Howard, earl of Surrey, who married the duke of Buck* 
ittgham'a daughter, was at this time the individual above men** 
tiooed, ddbe of Norfolk. Cavendish, and the ehroniclers wha 
copied from him, mention only the dukes of Norfolk and Suflblk 
being s«nt to demand Uie great seal. The reason for adding a 
third and fourth person is not very apparent. 


lato our hands ; and to confine yourself 
To Asher-house^*^, ii\y lord of Winchester's^ 
Till you hear further from his highness. 

WoL Stay, 

Where's your commission, lords ? words cannot carry 
Authority so weighty. 

Suf. Who dare cross them ? 

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly? 

WoL Till I find more than will, or words to do it ^\ 
(I mean your malice), know, officious lords, 
I dare, and must deny it. Now I feel 
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, — envy. 
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, 
As if it fed ye? and how sleek and wanton 
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin ! 
Follow your ehvious courses, men of malice ; 
ITou have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt. 
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal 
You ask with such a violence, the king 
(Mine, and your master) with his own hand gave me : 
Bade me enjoy it, witli the place and honours, 
During my life ; and, to confirm his goodness. 
Tied it by letters patents : Now, who'll take it ? 

Sur. The king that gave it. 

WoL It must be himself then. 

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. 

Wol. Proud lord, thou liest; 

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better 
Have burnt that tongue, than said so. 

Sur* Thy ambition, 

^ Asher wm the ancient name of Maker, in Sarrey. Sfaak- 
speare forgot that Wolsej was himself Bishop of Winchester, 
having sncceeded Bishop Fox in 1528, holding the see in com- 
mendam. Esfaer was one of the episcopal palaces belonging to 
that see. 

^ That is, ' Till I find more than (yoar malicious) will anti 
words to do it, I dare and mast deny it.' 

SC. n» KINO HENRY Tilt. ^5S 

Thou scarlet sin, robbM this bewailing land 

Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law : 

The heads of all thy brother cardinals 

(With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) 

Weighed not a hair of his. Plague of your policy ! 

You sent me deputy for Ireland; 

Par from his succour, from the king, from all 

That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ; 

Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, 

Absolv'd him with an axe. 

WoL This, and all else 

This talking lord can lay upon my credits 
I answer, is most false. The duke by law 
Found his deserts : how innocent I was 
From any private malice in his end. 
His noble jury and foul cause can witness. 
If I loy'd many words, lord, I should tell you. 
You have as little honesty as honour; 
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth 
Toward the king, my ever royal master. 
Dare mate^^ a sounder man than Surrey can be. 
And all that love his follies. 

Sur. By my soul, 

Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou should'st 

My sword i* the life-blood of thee else. — My lords> 
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ? 
And from this- fellow? If wclive thus tamely. 
To be thus jaded ^^ by a piece of scarlet, 

^ i. e. equal, « 

^ i. e. overcrowedf ooeniMuf^recf. The force of this term maj 
be best understood from a proverb given by Cotgrave, in v. 
RoMei a jade. * 11 n'est si bon oheval qui n'en deviendroit 
roste : It would anger a saint, or crestfaU the best man living to 
be so used.' Tfans io Antonj and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 1 : — 
* The ne'er-jet-beaten horse of Parthia 
We have jaded out o'the field.' 


254 mNG HENRY Till. ACT III* 

Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forwaird. 
And dare us ynth his cap, like larks ^. 

WoL All goodness 

Is poison to thy stomach. 

Sur. Yes, thai goodness 

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, 
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; 
The goodness of yoiir intercepted packets. 
You writ to tiie pope, against tiie kii^ : yonr g«wd- 

Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. — 
My lord of Norfolk, as you are truly noble^ 
As you respect the common good, i^ state 
Of our desfHs'd nolnlity, our usues. 
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, — 
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles 
Collected from his Kfe : — I'll startle you 
Worse than the sacring bell^, when the brown wench 
Lay kissing in yonr arms, lord cardinal^. 

WoL How much, methinks, i oodid despise this 
But that I am bound in charity against it!. 

** A cardinars hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larica 
18 b J small mirrors on scarlet cloth, which engages the attention 
of die birds while the fowler drawa hb nets over them. The 
aame thought occurs in 8kelton*s Why oome ye not t» Co«rt? a 
satire on Wolsey:— 

' The red hat with his lore' 

Bringeth all things under cnre.* 

^ The little bell which is rang to giye notice of the eleTation 
of the Host, and other offices of the Romish Church, is called the 
sacring or consecration bell. Thus in Reginald Scot's Discorerj 
of Wtiohcraft, 1584 :*-* He heard a little 9aeri»9 hM ring to the 
elevation of a to-morrow mass.' 

* The amorous propensHies of Cardinal Wolsey are mnol 
4welt upon in Roy's Satire against htm, printed in the Supple* 
ment to Mr. Park's edition of the Harleian Miscellany. But it 
was a common t<^fi of inTecthre aganist Uie clergy ; all came 
under the censure, and many no doubt richly deaenred it. 


Nor. Those aiticles* my lord, are in the king's hand : 
But, thus much, they are foul ones. 

WoL So much fairer, 

And^spotless, shall mine innocence arise. 
When the king knows my truth. 

Sur. This cannot saye you; 

I thank my memory, I yet remember 
Some of these articles; and out they shall. 
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal. 
You'll show a little honesty. 

WoL Speak on, sir : 

I dare your worst objection : if I blush. 
It is, to see a nobleman want manners. 

Sur. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have 
at you. 
First, that without the king's assent, or knowledge. 
You wrouffht to be a legate; by which power 
You maim^i the jurisdiction '«»f all bishops. 

Nor. Then, that, in cJl you writ to Rome, or else 
To foreign princes. Ego et Rex nieus 
Was still inscrib'd ; in which you brought the king 
To be your servant. 

Suf, Then, that, without the knowledge 

Either of king or council, when you went 
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold 
To carry into Flanders the great seal. 

Sur. Item, you sent a large commission 
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude. 
Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, 
A league between his highness and Ferrara. 

Suf. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd 
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin ^. 

^ * Tfaig wu one of the articles exhibited against Wc^sey, bnt 
rather with a view to swell the oatalogae than from anjr serions 
eanie of aoonsation; inasmnch as the Archbishops Cranmer, 
Bainbridge,.and Warham were indulged with the same privi- 
lege. See Soelling's View of the Silver Coin of England.'— 


Sur. Then'y that you have sent innumerable sub- 
(By what means got, I leave to your own oon- 

To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways 
You have for dignities; to the mere^ undoing 
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are ; 
Which, since they are of you, and odious, 
I will not taint my mouth with. 

Cham. O my lord. 

Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue : 
His faults lie open to the laws; let them. 
Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him^ 
So little of his great self. 

Sur, I forgive him. 

Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure is; — 
Because all those things, you have done of late 
By your power legatine ^^ within this kingdom. 
Fall into the compass of a prcBtmmire ^, — 
That Uierefore such a writ be sued against you ;. 
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements. 
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be 
Out of the king's protection: — ^This is my charge. 

Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations 
How to live better. For your stubborn answer. 
About the giving back the great seal to us, 
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank 

So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.- 

[Exeunt all but Wolsey.. 

^ Absolute. ^ As the pope's legate. 

^ The judgment in a writ of prammtire (a barbarous word 
used instead of prttnumere) is, that the defendant shall be out of 
the kmg*s proteeHon ; and his Umda and tenements, gooat and chat- 
teU forfeited to the king; and that his body shall remain in 
prison at the king's pleasure. The old copy reads, erroneoasly, 
castles f instead of cattels, the old word tor. duUteb, as it it found 
in Holinshed, p. 909. 


Wol. So farewell to the little good you bear m^. 
Tarewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man; To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms. 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him^^ : 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root. 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd. 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. 
This many summers in a sea of glory; 
But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now has left me. 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye ; 
I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to^ 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin^% 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again ^. — 

31 Thus in Shakspeare's twenty-fifth Sonnet :-»• 

' Great princes' fayourites their fair leayes spread. 
But as the marigold in the sun's eye; 
And in themselyes their pride lies buried. 
For at a frown they in their glory die.' 
^ * Their ruin* is ' their displeasure/ producing the downfall 
and rain of him on whom it lights. Thus in a former passage :-^ 
< He parted frowning from me as if ruin 
Leap'd from his eyetJ 
^ Thomas Storer, in his Metrical Life of Wolsey, 1599, hag 
a similar image : — 

'If once we fall, we fall Colossus-like, 
We fall at once, like pillars of the sudne/ 
And Churchyard, in his Legend of Cardinal Wolsey, Mirror for 
Magistrates, 1687 : — 

'•Your foult not half so great as was my pride, 
For which offence /«U Lucifer from the skies.' 



Enter Cromwell^ amazedly. 

Why, how now, Cromwell ?* 

Crom, I have no power to speak, sir. 

WoL What, amaz'd 

At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder, * 
A great man should decline ? Nay, an you weep, 
I am fallen indeed. 

Cram, How does your grace ? 

WoL Why, well ; 

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
I know myself now ; and I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, 
I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, 
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken 
A load would sink a navy, too much honour : 
O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden. 
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. 

Crom, I am glad, your grace has made that right 
use of it. 

WoL I hope, I have : I am able now, methinks 
(Oiit of a fortitude of soul I feel). 
To endure more miseries, and greater far, 
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer ^. 
What news abroad? 

Crom, The heaviest, and the worst. 

Is your displeasure with the king. 

WoL God bless him ! 

Crom, The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen 
Lord Chancellor in your place. 

»♦ So in King Henry VI. Part ll.:— 

' More can I bear, than jon dare execate.' 

And in Othello : — 

' Thou hast not half the power to do me harm, . 
As I have to be hurt.' 


WoL That's somewhat sudden : 

But he's a learned man. May he continue 
Long in his highness* favour, and do justice 
For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones^ < 
When he has ran his course, and sleeps in blessings. 
May have a tomb of orphans' tears ^ wept on '«n*! 
What more ? 

Crom. That Cranmer is retum'd with welcome, 
Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. 

Wol. Thai's news indeed. 

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, 

Whom the king hath in secrecy long married. 
This day was view'd in open^, as his que^,- 
Going to chapel; and the voice is now 
Only about her ooronation. 

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down, > 
O Cromwell, 
The king has gone beyond* me, all my glories 
In that one woman I have lost for ever: 
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
Upon my smiles ^. 60, get thee from me, Cromwell ; 

^ The chancellor is the general guardian of orphans. ' A 
tomb of tears (says Johnson) is very harsh.' Steerens has ad- 
dnoed an Epigram of Martial, in which the Heliades are said to 
' weep a tomb of tears' over a viper. V. Lib. iy. Epig. 59. 
Drommond, in his Teares for the Death of Moeliades, has the 
same conceit : — 

' The Mnses, PhoebnSi'Loye, hare raised of their tearea * 
A crystal tomh to him, through which his worth appears.' 

There is a similar conceit in King Richard II. Act iii. Sc, 3. 

^ In open is a Latinism. ' Et castris tii aperto positis/ Liy. i. ^ 
33 ; i. e. tit a place exposed on all sides to view. 

^ The number of persons who composed Cardinal Wolsej's 
household, according to the authentic copy of Cavendish,- Was 
five hundred. Cavendish's work, though written soon after the 
death of Wolsey, was not printed till 1641, and then in a most 
unfaithful and garbled manner, the object of the publication 
having been to render Laud odious, by showing how far church 


1 am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : Seek the king ; 
That sun, I pray, may ^ever set ! I have told him 
What, and how true thou art : he will advance thee ; 
Some little memory of me will stir him 
(I know his noble nature) not to let 
Thy hopeful senrice perish too: Good Cromwell, 
Neglect him not; make use ^ now, and provide 
For thine own future safety. 

Crom. O, my lord. 

Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego 
So goody so noble, and so true a master? 
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron. 
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. — 
The king shall have iny service; bu't my prayers 
For ever, aind for ever, shall be yours. 

WoL Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me 
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; 
And, — ^when I am forgotten, as I shall be ; 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Qf me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee; 
Say, Wolsey>— that once trod the ways of glory. 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin*d me. 

power had been extended by Wolsej, and how dangeroag that 
prelate was, who, in the opinion of manj, followed bis example. 
In thatBpnrioas copy we read Uiat the nnmber of his honsehold 
was eigki hundred persons. In other MSS. and in Dr. Woirds- 
worth's edition, we find it stated at oae lnmdr0d and eighif 

^ i. e. tnierest. So in Mnch Ado About Nothing: — 
* 1 gave him use for it* 


Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ^ ; 

By that sin fell the angels, how can man then. 

The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? 

Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 

Corruption wins not more than honesty^ ; 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

To silence envious tongues. Be just; and fear not : 

Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's. 

Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O 

* Cromwell, 
Fhou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 
A.nd, — ^Pr'ythee, lead me in : 
There take an inventory of all I have^^. 
To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe,. 
And my integrity to heaven, is all . 
£ dare now call mine own. O Cromwell,. Cromwell^. 
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age- 
Have left me naked to mine enemies^. 

Crom. Good sir, have patience. 

Wol, So I have. Farewell 

The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell. 


* Ambition here means a criminal and inordinate ambition, 
that endeavoars to obtain honours nnsnited lo the state of a sub- 
ject. Wolsey does not mean to condemn eyerj kind of ambition, 
for in a preceding line he says he will instruct Cromwell how to 

^ Wolsey speaks here not as a sUUuman bnt as a Christian* 
Nothing makes the hoar of disgrace more irksome than the 
reflection that we have been deaf to offers of reconciliation, and 
perpetuated that enmity which we might have converted into 

^^ This inventory is still to be seen among the Harleian MSS. 
No. 599. Some of the particnlars may be seen in Stowe's Chroni- 
cle, p. 646, ed. 1631. See also Mr. Ellis's Historical Letters, 
vol. ii. p. 15. 

^ This was actually said by the cardinal when on his deathbed 
in a conversation with Sir William Kingston* The whole of whichr 




SCENE I. A Street in Westminster. 

JEmter Two Gentlemen, meetimjg. 

1 Geni, Yon are well met once again. 

2 Gent. And so are you. 

1 Gefwt, Ton come to take your stand here, and 

The Lady Anne pass from her coronation ? 

2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en- 

The duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 

1 Gent. Tis very true : but that time ofier'd sorrow ; 
This, general joy. 

2 Gent. 'Tis well : The citizens, 

is yery interesting : — * Well, well. Master Kingston/ qnoth he, 
' I see the matter Against me how it is framed j bat if I had 
served my Gad as di^eiMf as I have served my Ung, he tpeuld not 
have given me over m my grey hairs, Howbeit this is the just 
reward that I must receiye for mj worldly diligence and pains 
that I have had to do him service; only to satisfy his vain 
pleasure, not regarding my godly duty.' 

When Samrah, deputy goyemor of Bassorah, was deposed by 
Hoawryah, the sixth caliph, he is reported to haye expressed 
himself in the same manner : — ' If 1 had seryed God so well as 
I seryed him, he would neyer haye condemned me to all eternity.' 
A similar sentiment also occurs in The Earle of Murton's Tr»- 
gedie, by Churchyard, 1593. Antonio Perez, the disgraced fa- 
Tonrite, made the same complaint. Mr. Douce has also pointed 
out a remarkable passage in Pittscottie's History of Scotland, 
p. 261, edit. 1788, in which there is a great resemblance to these 
pathetic words of the cardinal. James V. imagined that Sir 
James Hamilton addressed him thus in a dream :— * Though 1 
was a sinner against God, I failed not to thee. Had I been as 
good a servant to the liord my God as I was to thee, I had not 
died that death.' 


I 9m sure, liave shown at full their royal minds ^, 
(As, let them have their rights, they^are ever forward) 
In celebration of this day with shows. 
Pageants, and sights of honour. 

1 Gent, Never greater. 
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. 

2 GetU. May I be l)bld to ask what that contains. 
That paper in your hand ? 

1 Gent. . Yes ; 'tis the list 
Of those, that claim their offices this day. 
By custom of the coronation. 

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims 

To be high steward ; next, the duke of Norfolk, / 

He to be earl marshal : yon may read the rest. 

2 Gent. I thank you, sir ; had I not known those 

I should have been behotden to your paper. 
But, I beseech yon, what's become of Katharine, 
The princess dowi^er? how goes her business ? 

1 Gent. That I can tell yon too. The archbishop 
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other 
Learned and reverend fathers of his order. 
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off 
From Ampt^ill, where the princess lay ; to which 
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not: 
And, to be short, for not appearance, and 
The king's late scruple, by the main assent 
Of all these learned men she was divore'd. 
And the late marriage ^ made of none effect: 
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, 

Wbei*e she remains now, sick. 


1 Miloae's «xphaatioB of ibis passage is eniirelf erroneous: 
royal minds are high minds, or as we still say, fnrmeely disposi- 
tions. ' To ayannt himself royally : Magnifice se efferre.* Baret, 

s i. e. tke marriago lat^ eoaaidered as valid* 


2 Gent. Alas, good lady ! — 

The trumpets sound : stand close^ the qyeen is coming. 


A lively flourish of Trumpets; then, enter, 

1. Two Judges, 

2. Lord 'Chancellor, with the purse and mace before 

3. Choristers singing. [Muslck. 

4. Mayor of I/mdon, hearing the mace. Then Gar^ 

ter, in his coat of arms\ and on his head a 
giU cqpper croum. 

^. fliarguis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold, on 
his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, 
the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver 
unth the dove, crowned with anearVs coronet. 
Collars of SS. 

{6. JDuhe of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet 
on his head, bearing a long white wand, as 
high-steward. With ^im, the Duke of Nor- 
folk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet 
on his head. Collars of SS. 

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; 

under it, the Queen in her robe ; in her hair 
richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On 
each side of her, the Bishops of London and 

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, 

wrought with flowers, bearing the Queen^s 

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain drdets 

of gold without flowers. 

' i. e. in his toat of 4>ffioe, embluoned with the royal arms. 


2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — Tliese I 
know ; — 
Who's that, that bears the sceptre ? ' 

1 Gent. Marquis Dorset: 
And that the earl of Surrey with the rod. 

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman : And that should be 
The duke of Suffolk. 

1 Gent. Tis the same ; high steward. 

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk? 

1 Gent. Yes. 

2 Gent^ Heaven bless thee ! 

[Looking on the Queen. 
Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. — 
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; 
Our king has all the Indies in his arms. 
And more, and richer, when he strains^ that lady ; 
I cannot blame his conscience. . 

1 Gent. . They, that bear 
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons 
Of the Cinque-ports. 

2 Gent. Those men are happy ; and so are all, are 

near her, 
I take it, she that carries up the train. 
Is that old noble lady, .duchess of Norfolk. 

1 Gent. It is ; and all the rest are countesses. 

2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars^ 

indeed ; 
And, sometimes, falling ones. 

1 Gent. No more of that. 

[Exit Procession, toith a great Jlonrish of 

* Strom is here used in the sense of the Latin con^^rimere .* 
' Virgo ex eo compressu gravida facta est.' So Chapman in his 
Tersion of the Twenty-first Iliad : — 

' Bright Perihaea, whom the flood, &o. 

VOL. Vli. A A 


Enter a third GentlemaQ. 


God save you, sir! Where have you been broil- 

3 Gent, Among the crowd i'tbe abbey ; where a 

Could not be wedg'd in more ; I am stifled 
With the mere rankness of their joy. 

2 Gent, You saw 
The ceremony ? 

3 Gent. That I did. 

1 Gent, How was it ? 
3 Geni, Well worth the seeing. 

2 Geni, Good sir, speak it to us. 

3 Gent, As well as I am able. The rich stream ^ 
Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen 

To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off 

A distance from her ; while her grace sat down 

To rest a while, some half an hour, or so. 

In a rich chair of state, opposing freely 

The beauty of her person to the people. 

Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman 

That ever lay by man : which when the people 

Had the full view of, such a noise arose 

As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest. 

As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks 

(Doublets, I think) flew up ; and had their faces 

Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy 

I never saw before. Great bellied women, 

iDgentem foribat domas alta snperbis 

Mane salatantam totis yomit aedibiis undam* 

. Viarg, Georg, ii. 461 • 

' < — foribns oam immusa saperbis 

Unda fremit vnlgi.' Staims ThA. v. 223. 

Thas in Timon of Atbens .* — 

* this confluence, this great Jl9od of risitors.* 


That had not half a week to go, like rams^ 
In the old time of war, woiild shake the press. 
And make them reel before tiiem. No man liTitig ' 
Could say. This is my wife, there ; all were woir-en 
So strangely in one piece. 

2 Gent. Bat what folk)w'd? 

3 Gent At length her grace rose, and with mo- 

dest paces 
Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, and, saintlike. 
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. 
Then rose again, and bowM her to the people : 
When by the archbishop of Canterbury 
She had all the royal swings of a queen ; 
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown. 
The rod, and hnd of peace, and all such emblems 
Laid nobly on her: which perform'd, the choir. 
With all tiie choicest mu^iek of the kingdom. 
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted. 
And with the same fall state pac'd back again 
To York Place, where the feast is held. 

1 Gent, Sir, you 
Must no more call it York Place, t^at is past : 
Tor, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost; 

TTis now the king's, and caffd-?- Whitehall. 

3 Gent. I know it; 

But 'tis so lately altered, that the oM name 
Is firesfa about me. 

2 Gent, What two reverend bishops 
Were those fheX went on each side of the queen ? 

3 Gent, Stokesly and Gardiner; tbe one, of Win- 

(Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary), 
The other, London. 

^ i. e. battering rams : — 

< __ labat 4irUte crebro 
Janna .* 


2 Gent. He of lYinchester 

Is held no great good lover of the archbishop^s. 
The virtuous Cranmer. 

^ 3 Gent. AW the land knows that: 

However, yet there's no great breach ; when it comes, 
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. 

- 2 Gent.^ Who may that be, I pray you? 

3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ; 
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly 

A worthy friend. — ^The king 

Has made him master o'the jewel-house. 

And one, already-, of the privy council. 

2 Gent: He will deserve more. 

3 Gent. . Yes, without all doubt. 
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which 

Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests ; 
Something I can command. As I walk thither, 
I'll tell ye more. 
Both. . You may command us, sir. 


SCENE UK Kimbolton. 

Enter Katharine, Dowager, sick; led between 
Griffith and Patience. 

Grif. How does your grace ? 

Katk. O, GrilBSth, sick to death : 

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the esirth. 
Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair; — 
So, — now, methinks, I feel a little ease. 
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, 

^ This scene is above any other part of Shakspeare's tragedies, 
and perhaps above anj scene* of any other poet, tender and 
pathetick, without gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices^^ 
without the help of romantiok circumstances, without improba- 
ble sallies of poetical lamentation, and without any throes of 
tumultuous misery. — Johnson. 


That the great child of hoiioiir» cardinal Wolsey, 
Was dead ? 

Grif. Yesy madam ; but, I think, your grace. 
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. 

KfUk. Fr'ythee, good Griflith, tell me how he died : 
If well, he stepped before me, happily % 
Tor my example. 

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : 

For after the stout Earl Northumberland 
Arrested him at York, and brou^t him forward 
(As a man sorely tainted) to his answer. 
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so' ill, 
He could not sit his male^. 

Kath. Alas ! poor man ! 

Crn/I Atla8t,with easy Foads^,he came to Leicester, 
Lodg'd in the Abbey ; where the reverend abbot, 
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; 
To whom he gave these words, — O father abbot. 
An old man, broken with the storms of state, 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Gioe him a Uttk earth for charity! 
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness 
Pursu'd him still ; and, three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight (which he himself 

' HappUy is sometimefl ased by Shakspeare for haply, peradr 
veiUure ; as in Tlie Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 4 : — 

' old 6i«mio is heark'ning still, * 

And happily we might be interrupted.' 
Bat it here more probably means opportunely, 

^ Cardinals generally rode on mnles, as a mark perhaps of 
humility. Garendish says that Wolsey ' rode like a cardinal 
samptnonsly upon his mule, trapped altogether in crimson velvet 
and gilt stirrups.', And Roy, in the Satire already quoted, 
says : — 

* Doth he then use on mules to ride f 
Ye, and that with so shameful pride 
That to tell it is not possible.' 
^ Roads, or rodes, here, is the same as eaurses,' stages, or 
journeys* From whence also was formed ont-ro<lM, in-rodet, &c. 

A A2 


Foretold, should be Ids last), full of repentance. 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
He gave his honours to the world agsun. 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

Kath, 80 may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! 
Yet thtis far, Griffith, .give me leave to speak him. 
And yet with charity, — He was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach^, ever ranking 
Himself with princes ; one, that, by suggestion 
Ty'd all the kingdom^ : simony was fair play ; 
His own opinion was his law : I'the presence 
He would say untruths ; and be ever double. 
Both in his words and meaning : He was never. 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : 
His promises were, as he then was, mighty ; 
But bis performance, as he is now, nothing. 
Of his own body he was iU*^, and gave 
Th£ clergy ill example. 

^ i. e. of unbomided pride or haaghtiness. Thus Holinshed — 
' This cardinal was of a great stomach, for he compated himself 
equal with princes, and by crafty suggestions got into his hands 
innumerable treasure : he forced little on sim<Hiy, and was not 
pitifull, and stood affectionate in his own. opinion : in open pre- 
sence he would lie and seie untrtith, and was double both in 
speech and meaning : he would promise much and perform little : 
he was yicious of his bodie, and gave the clergie evil example.' 
Ed. 1587, p. 922. 

• * — — one that by suggestion 
Ty'd all the kingdom .' 

Suggestion here, I think, means wicked prompti$ig. It is used in 
this sense in The Tempest. I have no doubt that we should read 
iyth*d instead of ty'd, as Dr. Farmer proposed, and as the pas- 
sage quoted from Holinshed warrants. The word tythes was not 
exclusively used to signify the emoluments of the clergy. Thus 
in Beaumont and Fletcher's Queen of Corinth :— 

' Why, sir, the kingdom's his ; and no man now 
Can come to Corinth, or from Corinth go. 
Without his licence ; he puts up the tithes 
Of every office through Achaia.' 

"^ To be ill, evil, or naught of body, was to be addicted to 
women : to be lewd in life and manners. 


Grif. Noble madam, 

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
We write in water. May it please your highness 
. To hear me speak his good now ? 

Kath. Yes, good Griffith ; 

I were malicious else. 

Chif. This cardinal. 

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle^. 
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting 
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam. 
He was most princely : Ever witness for him 
Those twins of 'ieaming, that he rais'd in you, 
Ipswich, and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it^; 
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, 
80 excellent in art, and still so rising. 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; 
For then, and not till then, he felt himself. 
And found the blessedness of being little: 
And, to add greater honours to his age 
Than man could give him, he died, fearing God ^^. 

* This passage has been absurdly pointed in all the moderu 
editions: — . . 

* This cardinal, &c. 

Was fashioned to mach honour. From his cradle 
' He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.' 
? * Unwilling to outlive the good that did it.' 

Good appears here to be put for goodness, as in the passage just 

* May it please your highness 
To hear me speak his good now V 
*^ This speech is formed on the following passage in Holin- 
shed: — * This cardinal (as Edmund Campion in his Historic of 


Kath, After my death I wish no other herakt. 
No other speaker of my living actions. 
To keep mine honour from corruption. 
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me. 
With thy religious truth, and modesty, 
Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him! — 
Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: 
I have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith, 
Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
I nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating 
On that celestial harmony I go to. 

Sad and solemn musick, 

Grif, She is asleep : Good wench, let's sit down 
For fear we wake her ; — Softly, gentle Patience. 

Ireland described him) was a man cmdoabtedlj born to konoar ; 
I think (saith he) some prince's bastard, no batcher's sonne ; 
exceeding wise, faire-spoken, high-muided» foil of revenge, 
yitioas of his bodie, loftie to his enemies, were they never so 
bigge, to those that accepted and soaght his friendship wonder- 
ful coarteoQS ; a ripe schooleman, thrall to affections, brought a 
bed with flatterie ; insaoiable to get, and more prinoelie in 
bestowing, as appeareth by his two colleges at Ipswich and 
Oxenford, the one oyerthrown with his fall, the other anfinished, 
and yet as it lyeth, for an house of stadentes (considering all the 
appurtenances) incotoparable throughout Christendome.-^He 
held and injoied at otoe the bishopriekes of Yorke, Dureame, 
and Winchester, the dignities of lord cardinal!, legatt, and 
chancellor, the abbaie of St. Albans, diverse priories, sundrie 
fat benefices in commendam ; a great preferrer of his servants, 
an advauncer of learning, stoate in every quarrel, never happy 
till this his overthrow : wherin he shewed such moderation, and 
ended so perfectlie, that the boure of his death did >liim more 
honour than all the pomp of his life paaaed.' We have a similar 
thought in Macbeth : — 

' -— — nothing in his life 

Became him like the leaving it.' 

SC. II. KING HENRY Vlil. , 273 

The Vision, Enter, solemnly tripping one after 
another J six Personagesyclad in white robes, wear- 
ing on their heads garlands of bays, and golden 
vizards on their faces; branches of bays, or palm, 
in their hands. They first congee unto her, then 
dance; and, at certain changes, the first two hold 
a spare garland over her head; at which, the 
other four make reverend courtesies ; then the two 
that held the garland, deliver the same to the other 
next two, who observe the same order in their 
changes, and holding the, garland over her head : 
which done, they deliver the same garland to the 
last two, who likewise observe the same order: at 
which (as it were by inspiration) she makes in her 
sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands 
to heaven : and so in their dancing they vanish, 
carrying the garland with them. The musick 

Kath, Spirits«of peace, where are ye? Are ye all 
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye^^? 

Grif Madam, we are here. 

Kath, ^ « It is not you I call for : 

Saw ye none enter, since I slept? 

Grif None, madam. 

JTa^A.No? Saw you not, even-now, a blessed troop 
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces 
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ? 
They promis'd me eternal happiness ; 
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel 
I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall. 

'^ Gray had probably this passage in his mind when he made 
his bard exclaim on a similar occasion : — 
'Stay, O stay ! nor thus forlorn 
Leave me unbless'd, uiipitied, here to monrn.' 


Grif, I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams 
Possess your fancy. 

Kath. Bid the musick leave, 

They are harsh and heavy to me. [Mustek ceases, 

Pat, Do you note. 

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden ? 
How long her face is drawn? How pale she looks. 
And of an earthly cold ? Mark you her eyes ? 

Grif. She is going, wench ; pray, pray. 

Pat, Heaven comfort her ! 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. An't like your grace, — 

Kath, You are a saucy fellow : 

Deserve we no more reverence ? 

Grif. You are to blame. 

Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness. 
To use so rude behaviour : go to, kneeP^. 

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon ; 
My haste made me unmannerly : There is staying 
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. 

Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : But this 
Let me ne'er see again, 

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. 

Re-enter Griffith, with Capucius. 

If my sight fail not. 
You should be lord ambassador from the emperor. 
My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. 

'^ Queen Katharine's flervants, after the divorce at Danfltable, 
and the Pope's carse stack ap at Dankirk, were directed to be 
sworn to jerve her not as queeH but as princess doumgtr, Soqoe 
refused to take the oath, and so w,ere forced to leave her ser- 
vice ', and as for those who took it and stajed, she would not be 
served bj them, by which means she was almost destitute of 
attendants. See Hall's Chronicle, fol. 219. Bishop Burnet 
says that all the women about her still called her queen. Hist. 
of the Reformaliou, p. 162. 


Cap. MadaiDy the same, your servant. 

Kaih. O my lord. 

The times> and titles, now are altered strangely 
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you. 
What is your pleasure with me ? 

Cap^ Noble lady. 

First, mine own service to your grace ; the next. 
The king's request that I would visit you ; 
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me 
Sends you his princely commendations. 
And heartily entreats you take good comfort. • 

Kath, O my good lord, that comlbrt comes too late ; 
HTis like a pardon after execution : 
That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me ; 
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. 
How does his highness ? 

Cap, Madam, in good health.* 

Kath. So may he ever do ! and ever flourish. 
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name 
Banish'd the kingdom ! — Patience, is that letter, 
I caus'd you write, yet sent away ? 

Pat. No, madam. 

[Gioing it to Katharine. 

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver 
This to my lord the king ^^. 
' Cap. Most willmg, madam. 

13 t ^ peTceiying h2r selfe to w«xe verie weake and fe«b]e, 

and to feele death approachiDg^ at baiid, caused one of hir gentle- 
women to write a letter to the king, commending to him hir 
daughter and his, beseeobiiig him to stand good father onto hir ; 
and farther desired him to hare consideration of hir gentle- 
women that had served hir, and to see them bestowed in mar- 
riage. Further, that it would please him to i^oint that hir 
serrants might have their dae wages, and a jeares wages beside.' 
Holinshed, p. 939. This letter probably fell into the hands of 
Polydore Virgil, who was then in England, and has preserved it 
in the twenty-seventh book of his history. Lord Herbert has 
given a translation of it in his History of King Henry VIII. 


Kath, In which I have commended to his goodness 
The model ^^ of our chaste loves, his young daugh- 
ter ^^i— 
The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her ! — 
Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding 
(She is young, and of a noble Modest nature ; 
I hope,, she will deserve well) ; and a little 
To love her for her mother's sake, that, lov'd him, 
•Eleaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition 
Is that his noble grace would have some pity 
Upon my wretched women, that so long, 
Have followed both my fortunes faithfuUy : 
Of which there is not one, I. dare avow 
(And now I should not lie), but will deserve, 
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul. 
For honesty, and decent carriage, 
A right good husband, let him be^^ a noble; 
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them. 
The last is, for my men : they acre the poorest. 
But poverty could ne^er draw them from me; — 
That they may have their wages duly paid them. 
And something over to remember me by ; 
If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life. 
And able means, we had not parted thus. 
These are the whole contents; — ^And, good my lord. 
By that you love the dearest in this world. 
As you wish christian peace to souls departed. 
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king 
To do me this last right. 

^^ Models it has been already observed, signified, in the lan- 
gtiage of oar ancestors, a represeataiion or image, Thas in The 
London Prodigal, 1609 : — - 

' Dear copj of m j husband ! O let me kiss thee ! 

[JKunttg a picture. 
How like him is this ntodel?' 
See note on All's Well that Ends Well, Act iy. Sc. 3, p. 303, and 
King John, Act y. Sc. 7. ' 

^^ Afterwards Queen Marj. '" Even if he should be. 

sc. n. kiiTg henry VIII. 277 

Cap, By heaven, I will ; 

Or let me lose the fashion of a man ! 

Kath, I thank you, honest lord. Remember me 
In all humility unto his highness ; 
Say, his long trouble now is passing 
Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless'd him, 
For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell, 
My lord. — Griffith^ farewell. — Nay, Patience, 
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; 
Call in more women. — ^When lam dead, good wench. 
Let me be us^d with honour ; strew me over 
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know 
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embafan me. 
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet like 
A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. 

I can no more. 

[Exeunt, lending Katharine. 


SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace. 

Enter Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, a Page 
with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas 


Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? 

Boy. It hath struck. 

Gar. These should be hours for necessities, 
Not for delights ^ : times to repair our nature 
With comforting repose, and not for us 

' Gardiner himself ia not much delighted. The delights at 
which he bints seem to be the king's diversions, ¥^hioh keep him 
in attendance. 

VOL. Vll. B B 


To waste these times.— Good hour of night, Sir 

Thomas ! 
Whither so late ? 

Lov* Came you from the king, my lord? 

Gar. I did, Sir Thomas ; and left him at primero ^ 
With the duke of Suffolk. 

Zot;. I must to him too. 

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. 

Gar, Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the 
It seems, you are in haste : an if there be 
No grcfat offence belongs to't, give your friend 
Some touch ^ of your late business : Afi^rs, thi^ walk 
(As they say, spirits do) at midnight, have 
In them a wilder nature, than the business 
That seeks despatch by day, 

Lw, My lord, I love you ; 

And durst commend a secret to your ear 
Much weightier . than this work. The queen's in 

They say, in great extremity; and fear'd. 
She'll with the labour end. 

Gar, The fruit, she goes with, 

I pray for heartily ; that it may find 
Good time, and live ; but for the stock, Sir Thomas, 
I wish it grubb'd up now. 

Lov, Methinks, I could 

Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says 

^ Prim«ro» prime, or primayisia. A game at cards, flaid by 
some writers to be one of the oldest known in England. It is 
described by Dachat in his notes on Rabelais, Mr. Daines Bar- 
rihgton in the Archaeologia, toI. riii. p. 132, and more folly bj 
Mr. Nares in his Glossary, and in an Essay on the Origin of 
Playing Cards, 1816, to which oor limits oblige as to refer the 
reaoer desirons of farther information. 

^ i. e. some A«mI of the bosiness that keeps yoa awake so 
late. ' 


She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does 
Deserve our better wishes. 

Oar, But, sir, sir, — 

Hear me. Sir Thomas : You are a gentleman 
Of mine own way^; I know you wise, religious; 
And, \tt me tell you, it will ne'ei' be well, — 
Twill not. Sir Thomas Lorell, take't of me. 
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she. 
Sleep in their graves. 

Dm. Now, sir, you speak of two 

The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Crom-» 

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master 
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary : further, sir. 
Stands in the gap and trade ^ of more preferments. 
With which the time will load him : The archbishop 
Is the king's hand and ttmgue ; And who dare speak 
One syllable against him ? 

Gar» Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, 

There are that dare ; and I myself have ventur'd 
To speak my mind of him : and, indeed, this day. 
Sir (I mi^ tell it you), I think, I have 
Inceus'd^the lords o'die council, that he is 

4 Of mise own opinion in religion* 

^ i. e. ctmru or ^tty. * Iter pro ineepto et institato, a voay, 
trade, or course. Cooper. Again, in Udal's Apothegms, p. 75, 
' — althonghe it repent them of the trade or way that they have 
chosen.' So in a letter from the earl of Leicester to Sir Nicho- 
las Throckmorton, among the Conway Papers : — * Bnt methinks 
she bad rather yon followed the trade yon take, and did what 
yon with yoor credit might.' See iSang Richard IT. Aot iii. 
So. 8 :— 

' Some way of t^ammon trade.* 

^ Incen^d or insetued in this instance, and in some others, only 
means inetrueted, informed: still in nse in Staffordshii-e. It 
properly signifies to vnjuee iido the mind, to pron^ or uutigaie. 
* Invidiae stimolo mentes Patmm fodit Satnrnia : Jnno incenseth ' 
the senators* minds with secret envy against,' &o. Cooper. 


(For so I know he is, they know he is) 
A most arch heretick, a pestilence 
That does infect the land : with which they movedy 
Have broken*^ with the king; who hath so far 
Given ear to our complaint (of his great grace 
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs 
Our reasons laid before him), he hath conmianded 
Tormbrrow morning to the council board 
He be convented^. He's arank weed. Sir Thomas, 
And we must root him out. From your affairs, 
I hinder you too long: good night, Sir Thomas. 
Lofti, Many good nights, my lord : I rest your ser- 
vant. lExeunt Gardiner and Page. 

As LovELL is going out, enter the King, a$id the 

Duke of Suffolk. 

K. Hen, Charles, I will play no more to-night; 
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me. 
. Suf. Sir, I did never v^n of you before. 

K. Hen, But little, Charles ; 
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. — 
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news ? 

Loo. r could not personally deliver to her 
What you commanded me, but by her woman 
I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks 
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your highness 
Most heartily to pray for her. 

K. Hen * What say'st thou ? ha ! 

To pray for her? what, is she crying out? 

7 That is, have broken silence ; told their minds to the king. 
So in The Two Gentlemen of Verona i — 

' I am to break with thee of some affairs.' 
' i. e. summoned, convened. Thus in Coriolanas:— 
t __________ We are convehted 

Upon a pleasing treatj 


Lov. So said her woman ; and that her sufferance 
Almost each pang a death ^. 

JST. Hen. Alas, good lady ! 

Suf, God safely quit her of her burden, and 
With gentle travail, to the gladding of 
Yoi|r highness with an heir I 

K. Hen, Tis midnight, Charles, 

Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember 
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone ; 
For I must think of that, which company 
Would not be friendly to. 

Suf. , I wish your highness 

A quiet night, afid my good mistress will 
Remember in my prayers, 

K. Hen. Charles, good night. — 

[^dt Suffolk. 

Enter Sir Antony Denny ^^ 

Well, sir, what follows ? 

Den. Sir, I have bjought my lord the archbishop. 
As you commanded me. 

K. Hm. Ha! Canterbury? 

Den. Ay, my good lord. 

K. Hen. Tistrue: Where is he, Denny? 

Den. He attends your highness' pleasure. 

K. Hen. Bring him to us. 

[Eocit Denny. 

Lov. This is about that which the bbhop spake: 
I am happily ^^ come hither. [Aside. 

^ Yie have almost the same sentiment before in Act ii. Sc. 3 :-' 

' it is a saffevance panging 

As soal aiud body's seyering/ 
'^ The sabstance o( this and the two following scenes is taken 
from Fox's Acts and Monuments of the Christian Martjrs, &c. 

" i. e. luckily f opportunely. Vide note 2, p. 269, and p. 231 , 
line 16. B B 2 


Re-enter Denny, with Cranmer. 

K, Hen, Avoid the gallery. 

[LovELL seems to stay^ 
Ha! — I have said. — Be gone. 
What ! — [^Exeunt Lovell and Denny, 

Cran. I am fearful : — Wherefore frowns he thus ? 
rris his a^p^ct of terror. All's not well. 

K, Hen* How now, my lord? You do desire to 

. . know 
Wherefore I sent for you. 

Cran, It is my duty 

To attend your highness' pleasure. 

K, Hen, 'Pray you, arise. 

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. 
Come, you and I must walk a turn together ; 
I have news to tell you : Come, come, give me your 

Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak. 
And am right sorry to repeat what follows : 
I. have, and most unwillingly, of late 
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, 
Grievous complaints of you : which, being consider'd. 
Have mov'd us and our. council^ that you shall 
This morning come before us; where, I know, 
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself. 
But that, till further trial, in those charges 
Which will require your answer, you must take 
Your patience to you, and be well contented 
To make your house our Tower : You a brother of us^^. 
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
Would come against you. 

Cran, I humbly thank your highness ; 

And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
Most thoroughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff 

*^ Yoa being one of the council, it is necessary to imprison 
ouy that the witnesses against you may not be deterred. 



And corn, shall fly asunder : for, I know, 

There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, 

Than I myself, poor man. 

K. Hen. Stand up, good Canterbury ; 

Thy trutfi, and thy integrity, is rooted 
In us, thy friend : Give me thy hand, stand up ; 
Pr'ythee,. let's walk. Now, by my holy dame. 
What manner. of man are you? My lord, I look'd 
You would have given me your petition^ that 
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together 
Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard you 
Without indurance^^, further.: 

, Cran. Most dread liege. 

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty ; 
If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, 
Will triumph o'er my person; which I weight not. 
Being lOf those virtues vacant. I fear nothing 
What can be said against me. 

K, Hen. Know you not how 

Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world ? 
Your enemies are many, and not small : their prac- 
Must bear the same proportion : and not ever^^ 
The ji^stice and the truth o'the question carries 
The due o'the verdict with it : At what ease 
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
To swear against you ? such things have been done. 
You are potently opposed ; and with a malice 

^f IndurancCf which Shakspeare foand in Fox's narrative, 
means here imprisonment : * one or two of the chiefest of the 
Qoancil, making their excase, declared, that in requesting his 
indurance, it was rather meant for his trial and his purgation-*— 
than for any malice conceived against him.' 

^* i. e. have no value for. Thus in Love's Lahour's Lost: — 
' Yon weigh me not, — O that's you care not for me.' 

^^ Not ever is an uncommon expression, and here means not 


Of as ffreat size. .Ween*^ yoa of better luck, 
I me J, » pegur-d wH.ess.Vu your ^t^l 
Whose minister you are> wlule» here he liv'd 
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to; 
You take a precipice for no leap of danger. 
And woo your own destmction. 

Cr(m^ God^ and your majesty, 

Pk'otect Inine innocence, or I fall into 
The trap is laid for me ! 

K* Hen. . Be of good cheer; 

They nball no more prevaily than we gire way to. 
Keep comfort to you; and this morniiig see 
You do appear before them ; if they shall chance. 
In charging you with matters, to commit you. 
The best persuasions to the contrary 
Fail not to use, i^nd with what vehemency 
The occaMon shall instruct you : if entreaties 
Will render you no remedy, this vmg 
DeliTer them, and your appeal to us 
There make before them. — Look, the good Ikian 

weeps I 
He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother! 
I swear, he is true hearted; and a soul 
None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone^ 
And do as I have iHd you. — [Exit Cranmer.] 

He has strangled 
His language in his tears* 

Enter an old Lady^''. 

Gent. [Within.] Come back; What mean you? 
Ladv. I'll not come back : the tidings that I bring 

*^ To tceen is to think or imagine, Tbongh new obsolete, the 
word was oommon to all our ancient writers. Overweening, its 
derivative, is still retained in the modern vooabnlary. 

*7 This, sajs Steeveas, is I sappose the same lold cat thai 
appears with Anne Boleyn in a former scene. 


Will make my boldness maoiiers. — Now,good angels 
Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person 
Under their blessed wings ! 

K. Hen. Now, by thy lo6ks 

I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? 
Say, ay ; and of a boy. 

Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ; 

And of a lovely boy : The God of heaven 
Both now and ever bless her^®! — *tis a girl. 
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen 
Desires your visitation, and to be 
Acquainted with this stranger ; 'tis as like you. 
As cherry is to cherry. 

K, Hen, Lovell, — 

Enter Lovell. 
Xov. Sir, 

K. Hen. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the 
queen. [Exit King. 

Ldidy. An hundred marks ! By this light I'll have 
An ordinary groom is for such payment. 
I Will have more, or scold it out of him. 
Said I. for this, the girl is like to him? 
I will have more, or else unsay't : and now 
While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Lobby before the Council Chamber. 

^ferCRANMER; Servants, Doorkeeper, ^'c 


Cran. I hope, I am not too late ; and yet the gen- 
That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me 

'® The hamour of this passage consists in the talkative old 
lady, who in her harry said it was a boy, adding bless Acr before 
she corrects her mistake. 


To make great hastet. All fast? what means this? — 

Who waits there ?— Sure you know me ? 

2>. Keep, Yes, my lord ; 

But yet I cannot help you. 

Cran. Why ? 

D. Keep. Your graeemust wait till you be call'dfor. 

Enter Doctor Butts. 

Gran, So. 

Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad, 
I came this way so happily. The king 
Shall understand it presently. [Exit Butts. 

Cran. [Aside.'] Tis Biitts, 

The king's physician ; As he past along, 
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me ! 
Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For certain. 
This is of purpose lay'd by some that hate me 
(God tufn their hearts ! I never sought their malice). 
To quench mine honour: they would shame to 

make me 
Wait else at door ; a fellow counsellor, 
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their plea- 
Must be fulfilled, and I attend with patience. 

Enter, at a Window above^, the King and Butts. 

Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight, — 
K. Hen. What's that. Butts? 

' The saspicioQs Tigilanoe of oar ancestors contriTed windows 
which overlooked the ihsides of chapels, halls, kitchens, pas- 
sages, &o. Some of these oonrenient peepholes may still be 
seen in c6\lef^e»f and such ancient houses as have not suffered 
from the reformations of modem architectore. In a letter from 
Matthew Parker, archbishop of Canterbarj, 1673, printed in 
Seward's Anecdotes, toI. iT« p. 270, ed. 1796 : — ' And if it please 
her majestic, she may come in throngh my gallerie, and see the 
disposition of the liaH in dynner time, ai a wmdow opmdmg there- 
itUo,* Withoat a previous knowledge et this costom Shak- 
speare's scenery in the present instance would be obscure. 


ButtB. I think, your higfaoess saw this many a day. 

K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it? 

Bvits. There, my lord : 

The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; 
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, 
Pages, and footboys. 

K. Hen. Ha! ^Tis he, indeed: 

Is this the honour they do one anotha: ? 
Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought 
They had parted^ so much honesty among them 
(At least, good manners) as not thus to suffer 
A man of his place, and so near our favour. 
To dapce attendance on their lordships' pleasures. 
And at the door too, like a post with packets. 
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery : 
Jjet them alone, and draw the curtain close ^ ; 
We shall hear more anon. — [Exeunt, 


Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of Suffolk, 
Earl of Surrey, Lord Chamberlain, Gardi- 
ner, ajid Cromwell. The Chancellor places 
himself at the upper end of the table on the left 
hand; a seat being left void above hitny as for the 
Archbishop of Canterbury. The rest seat them- 
selves in order on each side. Cromwell at the 
lower end, as Secretary. 

Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary : 
Why are we met in council ? 

Crom. Please your honours. 

The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. 

3 i. e. sharedf posseMed, 

^ That is, the cartain of the balcony or upper staj^e, 'where the 
king now is. See Malone's Accoant of the earl j -English Stage, 
Tol. iii. of the late edition by Mr. Boswell. 


Gar, Has he had knowledge of it? 

Crom, Yes. 

Nor, Who waits there? 

D. Keep. Without, my noble lords ? 

Gar. Yes. 

D. Keep. My lord archbishop ; 

And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. 

Chan. Let him come in. 

D. Keep. Your grace may enter now*. 

[Cranmer approaches the Council-tablel 

Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry 
To sit here at this present, and behold 
That chair stand empty : But we all are men. 
In our own natures frail, and capable ^ 
Of our flesh, few are angels : out of which frailty. 
And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us. 
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little. 
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling 
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap- 
(For so we are inform'd), with new opinions, 

^ The old' stage direction at the commencement of this scene 
is * A coascell table brought in with ohajres and stooles and 
placed under the state.' Oar ancestors were contented to be 
told that the same spot, without anj change of its appearance 
(except perhaps the drawihg back of a curtain) was at once the 
outside and thcv inside of the council chamber. The moderiK 
reader will easily conceive how this saene might novo be repre- 
sented on the stage, who has witnessed some of the ingenious 
and prompt scenes of metamorphoses bjr that admirable comedian 

^ ' Capable of our flesh/ probably means * susceptible of the 
failings inherent in humanity.' Malone reads and points thus : — 
, But we are all men, 

In our natures frail, mcaptAle ; 
Of our flesh, few are angels :' &o. 
This is a larger deviation from the text of the old copy than be 
nsnally allows himself, and I am not convinced that it vhonld be 


Divers, and dangerous ; which are heresies, 
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. 

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too. 
My noble lords : for those that tame wild horses. 
Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle ; 
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits/ and spur 

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer 
(Out of our easiness, and childish pity 
To one man's honour) this contagious sickness. 
Farewell, all physick : And what follows then ? 
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint 
Of the whole state : as of late days, our neighbours. 
The upper Germany^, can dearly witness. 
Yet freshly pitied in our memories. 

Cran, My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress 
Both of my life an^ office, I have labour'd. 
And with no little study, that my teaching. 
And the strong course of my authority. 
Might go one way, and safely ! and the end 
Was ever, to do well : nor is there living 
(I speak it with a single heart '^, my lords) 
A man, that more detests, more stirs against, 
Both in his private conscience, and his place, 
Defacers of a public peace, than I do. : 
'Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart 
With less allegiance in it! Men, that make 
Envy and crooked malice, nourishment. 
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships. 
That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 

' Allnding to the heresy of Thomas Mantzer, which spriuig 
up in Saxonj in the years 1621 and 1522. 

7 i. e. without daplicitj or gnile. Thus in Acts, ii. 46, ' In 
singleness of heart.' I hare before had occasion to observe 
that single and single were synonymous. 



Be what they vnH, may stand forth faoe to face. 
And freely urg€ against me. 

I^f. Nay, my lord, 

That cannot be ; you are a counsellor. 
And, by that yirtiie, bo man dare accuse you, 
. Gar. My lord, because w;e have business of more 

We will be short with you. 'Tislus fairness' pleasure. 
And our consent, for bett^ trial of you. 
From heace you be committed to the Tower; 
Where, being but a private man again. 
You shall know many dar€ accuse you boldly, 
fAofe than, I fear, you are provided for. 

Cran, Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I Hhaak 
Xou are always my good friend ; if your win pass, 
I shall both find your lordship ji^dge and juror. 
You are so merciful : I see your end, 
^is my undping : Love, and meekness, lord. 
Become a churchman better than ambition ; 
Win straying souls with modesty ag&in. 
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself. 
Lay aU the weight ye can upon my patience, 
I mak,e as little doubt, as you do conscience. 
In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, 
But reverence to your calling makes me modest. 

Gar. My k>rd, my lord, you are a sectary. 
That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers. 
To men that understand you, wor4sand weakness^. 

Crom. JHy kMrd of WiD<^ester, y<»u are a little. 
By your good favour, too sharp ; men so noble. 
However faulty, yet should find respect 
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty. 
To load a falling man. 

^ Those that understaiid joa, ander this painted ghs8, this fair 
oatside, discover jrour empty talk and yonr false reasoning. 

SC. II. KING HENRT Tllli 291 

Gar. Good master secretary, 

I cry your hoaow mercy; you may^ worst 
Of idl jthis table, say so. 

Crom. Why, my lord ? 

Gar, Do not I know you for a favourer. 
Of thiB new sect? ye are not sound. 

Crem. Not sound ? 

Gar. Not sound, I say. 

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest ; 

Men^s prayers then would seek you, not their fears. 

Gar. I shall remember thi» bold laftgnage. 

Cram. Da. 

Remember your bold life too. 

Chan.. This is too much ; 

Forbear, for shame, my lords. 

Gar. I have done. 

Crom. And I. 

Chan. Then thus for you, my lord, — It stands 
I take it, by* all voices, thai forthwith 
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner ; 
There to remaitf, till the king's further pleasure 
Be known unto us : Are you all agreed, lords ? ' 

AIL We are. 

Cran. Is there no other way of nyercy. 

But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ? 

Gar. What other 

Would you expect ? You are strangely troublesome ! 
Let some of the guard be ready there. 

Enter Guard. 

Cran. Forme? , 

Must I go Kke a traitor thither? 

Gar. Keceiye him. 

And see him safe i'the Tower. 

Cran. Stay, good my lords. 


I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords ; 
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause 
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 
To a most noble judge, the king my master. 

Chan, This is the king's ring ^. 

^r. 'Tis no counterfeit. 

Suf, Tis the right ring, by heaven : I told ye all, 
When we first put tiiis dangerous stone a rolling, 
fTwould fall upon ourselves. 

N(yr. Do you' think, my lords. 

The king will suffer but the little finger 
Of this man to be vex'd? 

Chan. Tis now too certain : 

How much more is his life in value with him ? 
'Would I were fairly out on't. 

Crom. My mind gave me. 

In seeking tales, and informations, 
Against this man (whose honesty the devil 
And his disciples only envy at), 
Ye blew the fire that burns ye : Now have at ye. 

Enter the King, frouming on them ; takes his seat. 

Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound 
to heaven 
In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; 

^ It seems to have been a costom, began probably in the 
dark ages, before literatare was generally diffused, and before 
the regal power experienced the restraints of law, for every 
monarch to have a ring, the temporary possession of which 
inyested the holder with the same aathority as the owner him- 
self could exercise. The production of it was sufficient to 8Qa< 
pend the execution of the law ; it procured indemnity for offences 
committed, and imposed acquiescence and submission to what- 
ever was done under its authority. See Procopins de Bell. 
Vandal. 1. i. p. 15. The traditional story of the earl of Essex, 
Qne^n Elizabeth, and the countess of Nottingham, long con- 
. sidered as an incident of a romance, is generally known, and 
now as generally credited. See Birch*s Negotiations, p. 206. 



Not only good aad vnse, but most reKgioii» : 
One that, in all obedience, makes the chmrch 
The chief aim of his hononr; and, to strengthen 
That holy doty ^ out of de«r respect. 
His royal self in jud^ent comes to beer 
The eause betwixt her and this great offender^ 

K. Men, You were ever good at sudden cowmen- 
Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not 
To hear such fiattery'now, and in my presence; 
They are too thin and bare to hide offences ^^. 
To me you cannot reach, you play the spamel. 
And think witb wagging df your tongue to win me ; 
But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure. 
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. — 
Good man, [To Cranmer.} sit down. Now kt 

ine see the proudest 
He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: 
By all that's holy, he had better starve. 
Than but once think his place becomes thee not ^^. 

Sur. May it please your grace, — 

K, Hen, No, sir, it does not please me. 

I had thought, I had had men of some understanding 
And wisdom of my council; but I find none. 
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man. 
This good man (few of yon deserve that title). 
This honest man*, wait like a lousy footboy 
At chamber door? and one as great as you are ? 
Why, what a shame was this ? Did my commission 
Bid ye so far forget yourselves ? I gave ye 

^^ i. e. the commendatioBs abo^emeiitioded are too thin and 
bare, the iDtention of thdm is too palpablj seen through. The 
old copy reads * thin and base ;* the emendation was suggested 
by Malone; 

^^ Who dares to suppose that the place or sitnation in whieh 
he is» is not suitable to thee al«o? Who supposes that thou art 
not as fit fgr the oflice of a priyj connselior as he is ? 

C C 2 


power: as he was a counseOor to try him. 
Not as a groom; There's some of ye, I see, 
More out of malice than integrity, 
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ; 
Which ye shall never have, while I live. 

Chan. Thus far. 

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace 
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd 
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather 
(If there be faith in men), meant for lus trial. 
And fair purgation to the world, than malice ; 
I am sure, in«me. 

; K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him ; 

Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. 
I will say thus much for him. If a prince 
May be beholden to a subject, I 
Am, for his love and service, so to' him. 
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him: 
Be friends, for shame, my lords. — My lord of Can- 
I have a suit which you must not deny me ; 
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism. 
You must be godfather, and answer for her ^^. 

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may glory 
In such an honour; how may I deserve it. 
That am a poor and humble subject to you ? 

K. Hen, Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your 
spoons ^^ ; you shall have 

*' i. e. ' YoQ mnstbe godfather [to] and answer for her.' Oar 
prelates formerly were often employed on like occasions. Cran- 
mer was godfather to Edward VI. See Hall, fo. 232. Arch- 
bishop Warbam to Henry's eldest son by Queen Katharine ; and 
the bishop *of Winchester to Henry himself. See Sandford, 
479. 495. 

*' It was an ancient custom (which is not yet qaite out of use) 
for the sponsors at christenings to ofier silver or silver gilt spoons 
as a present to the child. The ancient offerings npon sncb occa- 
sions were -called Apostle-spoons, because the extremity of the 


Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of 

And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you? 
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you. 
Embrace, and love this man. 

Gar, With a true heart. 

And brother-love, I do it. 

Cran. And let heaven 

Witness, how dear I hold this eoniirmation. 

K. Hen, Good man, those joyful tears show thy 
true heart. 
The conmion voice, 1 see, is verified 
Of thee, which says thus. Do my lord of Canterbury 
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever, — 
Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long 

handle was formed into the 6giire of one or other of the apostles. 
Such as were opulent and generous gave the whole twelve ; those 
who were more moderate! j rich or liberal, escaped at the expense 
of the fonr eyangelists ; or eren sometimes contented themseWes 
with presenting one spoon onlj, which exhibited the figure of anj 
saint, in honour of whom the child received its name. Thus in 
The Noble Grentleman of Beaumont and Fletcher :— 

. * I'll be a gossip, Bewford, 
I have an odd apostle-spoon,^ 

And in Mid^leton's Chaste Maid of Cheapside : — 

2 Goss, What has he given her? — what is it, gossip? 

3 Cross, A fair high standing cap, and two great Apostle spoons, 
one of them gilt.' 

The following storj is related of Shakspeare and Ben Jonson 
in a collection of anecdotes, entitled Merrj Passages and leasts. 
MSS. Harl. 6395 :— 

' Shakspeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's children ; 
and after the christening, being in deepe study, Jonson came to 
cbeer him np, and ask'd him why he was so melancholy ? No 
faith, Ben, says he, not I ; but I have been considering a great 
while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my 
godchild, and I have resolved at last. I prythee what? says 
he. I'faith, Ben, lil give him a douzen good tatten [Latin] 
spoons, and thou shalt translate them.' The collector of these 
anecdotes appears to have been a nephew of Sir Roger L'Es-^, 
trange. He names Donne as the relater of this story. 


To have this young one made a Christian. 
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ; 
So I grow stronger, you irnore honour gain^- 


SCENE^ III. The Palace Yard. 

N(n$e and Tumult within. Enter Porter and his 


Port. Youll leave your noise anon^ ye rascals: 
Do you take the court for Paris-garden ^ ? ye rude 
slaves, leave your gaping^. 

[ Within.] Good master porter, I belong to th« 

Port. Belong, to the gallows, and be hanged, 
you rogue : Is this a place to roar in 7 — Fetch me 
a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; thesMS 

' This celebrated bear garden, oq the Bankside, was so called 
from Robert de Paris, who had a house and garden there in the 
time of King Richard II. Rot. Clans. 16 R. II. dors. 11. Bloant's 
Glossography. So in Sir W. D'Ayenant's News from Pllmontfa : 

' do yon take this mansion for Plct-hatch? 

Yon would be suitors : yes, to a she-deer. 
And keep your marriages in Paris garden?' 
Again in Ben Jonson*s Execration on Vulcan : — 

* And cried, it was a threatening to the hears 
And that accursed ground the Ports garden,* 
The Gloi^ Theatre, in which Shakspeure w«ub a performer, stood 
on the southern side of the riyer Thames, and was contiguous to> 
this noted place of tumult and disorder. St. Mary Overy's 
church is not far from London Bridge, and almost opposite te-- 
Fishmongers' Hall ; Winchester House was oyer against Cole 
Harbqur ; Paris Oar den was in a line with Bridewell ; and ibe 
Gloibe playhouse faced Blackfriars, Fleet Ditch, or St. PanPs. 
It was lui hexagonal building of stone or brick. Its roof was 
of rushes, with a flag on the top. In the preliminary remarks 
is a representation of It, from an old View of London, as it ap> 
peared In 1699. 

^ i.e. shouting or roaring; a sense the word has now lost. 
Littleton, in his Dictionary, has ' To gape ox, bawl: yoeifeior.' 
So in Roscommon's Bssay on Translation : — 

' That noisy, nauseous gaping fool was he.' 


are but switches to them. — I'll l^cratch your heads : 
You seeing christenings? Do you look for 
ale and csJces here, you rude rascals ? 

Man. Pray, sir, be patient; ^tis as much impos- 
(Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons), 
To scatter tjiem, as 'tis to make them sleep 
On May^day mpming; which will neyer be^ : 
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. 

Port. How got they in, and. be hang'd ? 

Man. Alas, I know not ; How gets the tide in ? 
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot 
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute, 
I made no spare, sir. 

Port. You did nothing, sir. ? 

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy,, nor Col- 
brand ^ to mow them down before me: but, if I 
spared any, that had a head to it, either young or 
old, he or she, cuckold or cuckdld-maker, let me 
never hope to see a chine again; and. that I would 
not for a cow, God save her. 

[Withml Do you hear, master Porter? 

Port. I shall be with you presently, good mas- 
ter puppy. — Keep the door close, sirrah. 

Man. What would you have me do? 

Port. What should you do, but knock them 

' Oar ancestors, joung and old, rich and poor, all concarred, 
as Sbakspeare in another place sajs: — 

' To do obsenranoe to a morn of May.' 
Stowe says that ' in the month of May, namely on May-day in 
the morning, every man wonld walk into the sweet meadows and 
green woods ; there to rejoice their spirits with the beauty and 
savonr of sweet flowers, and with the noise [i. e. mnsio] of birds, 
praising God in their kind.' It is upon record that King Henry 
VIII. and Qneen Katharine partook of this diversion. See 
Brand's Popular Antiquities, by Ellis. 

* Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant, whom 
Guy subdued at Winchester. 

2dd KING HENRY Villi ACT T. 

down by the dozeniS ? Is this Moorfrekis to muster 
in^? or have we some strange Indian with the 
great tool come to court, the womeir so besiege 
us ? Bless me, what a fry of fornication is at door ! 
On my Christian conscience, this one christening 
wili beget a thousand; here will be father, god-' 
father, and all together. 

Man, The spoons will be the bigger, sir. Theref 
is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a 
brazier^ by his face, for, o'my conscien<5e, twenty 
of the dog-days now reisn in's nose*: all that stand 
about him are under the Ime, they need no other 
penance: That fire-drake ''^ did I hit three times on 
the head, and three times was his nose discharged 
against me : he stands there, like a mortar-piece, 
to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of 
small, wit near him, that raited upon me till her 
pink'd porringer^ fellt off her head, for kindling sucfar 
a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor ^ 

^ The trained bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields, 
^ A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and a 
reservoir for charcoal occasionally heated to conTey warmth. 
Both these senses are understood. 

7 < Fire-drake ; a fire sometimes seen flying in the night like 
a dragon. Common people think it a spirit that keepeUi some 
treasure hid ; but philosophers affirme it to be a great unequal 
exh4dation inflamed betweene twe clouds, the one hot, the oUier 
cold, which is the reason that it also smoketh ; the middle part 
whereof, according to the proportion of the hot cloud, being 
greater than the rest, maketh it seeme like a bellie, and both* 
ends like unto a head and taile.' — BvOokar'e Expositor, 1616. 
A fire-drake appears to hare been also an artificial fireworks 
Thus in Your Five Gallants, by Middleton : — 

* but like fire-drakes 

Mounted a little, gave a crack, and fell.' 

^ Her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been moulded <u» 
a porringer. So in The Taming of the Shrew : — 

' Hah, Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. 
Pet, Why, this was moulded on a porringer,* 

' The brazier. 


once, and hit that woman, who cried out, clvbs^^! 
when I might see from far some foity truncheoneers 
draw to her succour, which were the ikope of the 
Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on^ 
I made good my place; at length they came to the 
broomstaff with me, I defied them /stUl; when sud- 
denly a file of boys behind them^ loose shot^^, 
delivered such a shower of pebble, that I was fain 
to draw mine honour in, and let them win !&e wosk ^^. 
The devil was amongst them, I tbiak, surely. 

Port, These are the yoqtbs that thunder at a 
play-house, and fight for bitten apples; that no 
audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or 4;he 
limbs of Limejiouse ^\ their dear brothers, are able 
to endure. I have some qf them. in Liwho Patrmm.^\ 
and there ^they are like to dance these three days; 
besides the running banquet of two beadles ^^, that 
is to come. 

*® See note on the Fir^t Part of King Henry VI. Act i. Scl 3 ; 
and As Yon lake It, Act t« So. 2, p. 201, note 4. 

'^ i. e. loose or .random shooten. See King HenrjIV. Part u. 
Act iii. Sc. 2. 

*' i. e. the fortress : it is a term in fortification. 

^^ By the tribulaHon of Tomer-kiU and the Umbs of Limehouse 
it is evident that Shakspeare ueant noisy rabble frequenting the 
thea;tre8, siipposed to come from those places. It appears from 
Stowe that the inhabitants of Tower^hili were remarkably tur- 
bulent. The word Umb, in the sense of a turbulent person, is 
not nnoommon in London even at this day. A mischievous un- 
ruly boy is called ' a limb of the devil.' That the puritans wen 
aimed at under these appellations seems to me doubtful. 

^* i. e. in confinement. In Umbo continues to be a cant phrase 
in the same sense to this day.^ The Limbus Pairum is, properly, 
the place where the old fathers and patriarchs are supposed to 
be waiting for the resurrectitm. See Titus Andronicus, Act iii. 
So. 1. 

*^ A public whipping. A banqtut here is used figuratively, 
for a dessert. To the confinement of these rioters a whipping 
was to be the dessert. 



finter the Lord Chamberlain. 

Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here ! 
They, grow still too, from all parts they are coming. 
As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these porters. 
These lazy knaves? — Ye have made a fine hand, 

There's a trim rabble let in : Are all these 
Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? We shall have 
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies. 
When they pass back from the christening. 

Port. A n't please your honour 

We are but men; and what so many may do. 
Not being torn a pieces, we have done : 
An army cannot rule them. 

Cham. As I live, , 

If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all 
By the heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads 
Clap round fines, for neglect : You are lazy knaves ; 
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards ^^, when 
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound ; 
They are come already from the christening : 
Go, break among the press, and find a way out 
To let the troop pass fairly; or I'll find 
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. 

Port. Make way there for the princess. 

Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll 
make your head ake« 

Port. You i'the camblet, ^et up o'the rail; I'll 
pick ^^ you o''er the pales else. [Exeunt. 

*^ It has already been obBerved that a bumbard was a large 
black jack of leather (Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2, p. 47), asedlo 
carry beer to soldiers upon dnty, or npon any occasion where a 
quantity was required. See note on King Henry IV. Part l* 
Act ii. Sc, 4, p. 181. 

'7 To pick is to pitch, cast, or throw; Thns Baret :— * To pieke 


SCENE IV. The PalaceK 

Enter Trumpets^ sowndmg; then two Aldenneii, 
Lord Mayor, Garter ^^Cranmer, Duke of Nor- 
folk, with his MarshoTs Staff, Duke of Suf- 
folk, two Noblemen bearing great standingr 
bowU^for the christening gifts; then four Noble- 
meD bearing a canopy, tmder which the Duchess 
of Norfolk, godmother, bearing the Child richly 
habited in a mantle, 8fc. Train borne by a Lady; 
then follows the Marchioness of Dorset, the 
other godmother, and Ladies. T%e Troop pass 
once about the stage, and Garter speahs. 

Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send 
prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the higH 
and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. 

Flourish. Enter King and Train. 

Cran. [Kneeling. 1 And to your royal grace, and 
the good queen, 
My noble partners, and myself, thus pray : — 
AU comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady. 
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy. 
May hourly fall upon ye ! 

K. Hen. Thank you, good lord archbishop ; 

What is her name? 

Cran. Elizabeth. 

or cut' And in Cole's Dictionary, 1679: — ' To pick a dart: 
jacuhr.* So Stnbbes, in his Anatomy of Abases : — ' To catch 
bim on the hip, and to picke him on his necke :' and in another 
place, ' to picke him on his nose.' 

' At Greenwich, where this procession was made from the 
•hareh of the Friars.— ffoff, fo. 217. 

* Standing-howls were bowls elevated on feet or pedestals. 



K> Hen, Stand up, lord. — 

[The Ring kissei the Child. 
With ibis kiss take my blessing: God protect thee ! 
Into whose hands I give thy life. 

Cran, Amen. 

JSt. Ben. My noble gossips, ye have been too 
prodigal : 
I thank ye heartily ; so shall tlys lady, 
When she has so much English. 

Cran. Let me speak, sir. 

For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter 
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth. 
This royal infant (heaven still move about her !) 
Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings. 
Which time shall bring to ripeness : She shall be 
(But few now living can behold that goodness), 
A pattern to all princes living with her, 
And all that shall succeed : Sheba was never 
More covetous of wisdoitn, and fair virtue. 
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces. 
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is. 
With all the virtues that attend die good. 
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her. 
Holy and heavtenly thoughts still counsel her: 
She shall be lov'd, and fear'd ; H«r own shall bless her : 
fier foes shake like a fidkl of beaten com, 
And hang their heads with soitiow : Good grows 

with her : 
In her days, every man shall eat in safety 
Und^ir his own vine^, ^at he plants; and sing 

' The thought is borrowed from Scri)>etfre. Seie tticftb, It. 4. 
1 Kings, c. iy. The first part of the prophteey is apparently bar- 
•leiqiied in the Beggar's Bash^of BManeitt aj^ Fletcher ; %ltere 
Orator Higgin is making hik cong^tiilatory speech to the new 
king of the beggars : — 

* ISafeh man shall eat bis stolen eggs aind batter 
III his ow 1 shadv, or sunshine/ &c. 

SC. IV. KING HENRY Vlli. 803 

The meny songs of peace to all has neighbours : 

God shall be truly laiown; and those about her 

From her shall r^ul ihe perfect ways of honow^ 

And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 

[Nor^ shall this peace sleep with her: But as when 

The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix. 

Her ashes new create another heir, 

As great in admiration as herself: 

So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 

(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of 

Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour. 
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was. 
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, 

That were the servants to this chosen infant. 
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
Wherever the Imght sun of heaven shall shine. 
His honour and the greatoess of his name 
Shall be^ and make new nation&^: He shall flourish, 
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 

To all the plams about him; Our children's 

Shall see this, and bless heaven. 

K. Hen. Thou speakest wonders.] 

Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England, 
An aged princess ; many days shall see her, 

* Some of the commentators think that this and the following 
seventeen lines were probably written by Ben Jonson> after the 
accession of King James. We have before observed Mr. Gifford 
is of opinion that Ben Jonson had no hand in the additions to 
this play. 

^ On a picture of King James, which formerly belonged to 
the great Bacon, and is now in the possession of Lord Grimston, 
he is styled imperii Atlantici cmdxtor. The year before the 
revival of this play there was a lottery for the plantation of 
Virginia. The lines probably allude to the settlement of that 


^nd yet no day without a deed to crown it 

' Wodd I had known no more ! hut she must die^ 

She musty the saints must have her; yet a yir^n* 

A most unspotted lily shall she pass 

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. 

K. ffen. O lord archlushop. 
Thou hast made me now a man ; never, hefore 
This happy child, did I get any thing : 
This oracle of ^comfort has so pleas'd me. 
That, when X am in heaven^ I shall desire 
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.— 
I thank ye all,-^To you, my good lord mayor, 
And your good brethren, I am much beholden; 
I have received much honour by your presence, 
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, 

Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye. 
She ivill be sick else. This day, no man think 
He has business at his house ; for all shall stay, 
This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt. 


Tis ten to one, this play can never please 

All that are here: Some come to take their eaac, 

And sleep an act or two ; but those^ we fear. 

We have frighted with our trumpets ; so, 'tis clear, 

They'll say, 'tis naught : others, to hear the city 

Abus'd extremely, and to cry, — thafs unity! 

Which we have not done neither : that, I fear. 

All the expected good we are like to hear 

For this play at this time, is only in 

The merciful construction of good women ^ ; 

For such a one we show'd them; If they smile. 

And say, 'twill do, I know, within' a while 

All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, 

If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap. 

' A Terse with as mmmsical a close may be foaod in Barton's 
Aiiatomj of Melancholy, Part in. sect, ii.:— 

' Hoie the pleasure of fine womenJ 

In Ben Jonson's Alchemist there is also a line in which the 
word woman is accented on the last syllable : — 

' And then yoor red man, and yonr white woman,* 

D D 2 

The play of Henry VIII. is one of those which still keeps pos- 
session of the stage by the splendoar 4>f its pageantry. The 
coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people together in 
multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the 
only m^ritof this play. The meek sorrows and virtuous distreas 
of J^atharine have famished some scenes which may be justly 
numbered among the greatest efforta of tragedy. But the genius 
of Shakspeare comes in and goes out with Katharine. Every 
other part may be easily conceived and easily written. 

The historical dramas are now concluded, of which the two 
parts of Henry IV. and Henry V. are among the happieat of 
our author's compositions; and King John, Richard III. and 
Henry VIII. deservedly stand in the second class. Those 
whose cariosity would refer the historical scenes to their ori- 
ginal, may consult Holinshed, and sometimes Hall. From Ho- 
linshed, Shakspeare has often inserted whole speeches with no 
more alteration than was necessary to the nambers of his verse. 
To transcribe them into the margin was unnecessary, becaase 
the original is easily examined, and they are seldom less per- 
spicuous in the poet than in the historian. 

To play histories, or to exhibit a succession of events by ac- 
tion and dialogue, was a common entertainm^it «mong our rade 
ancestors apon great festivities *. The parish clerks once per- 
formed at Glerkenwell a play which lasted thr^e days, containing 
the History of the World. • J0HN6ON. 

* It appears diat the tradesmen of Chester were three days 
employed in therepresentatioti of twenty-foar Whitsun plays or 
mysteries. See Mr. Markland's Disquisition, prefixed to his 
very elegant and interesting selection from the Chester Myste- 
ries, printed for private distribution ; which may be consulted 
in the third volume of the late edition of Malone's Shakspeare, 
by Mr. Boswell. The Coventry Mysteries must have taken ap 
a longer time, as they were no less than forty in nnmber. 





' M.R. Steeveiu informs ns that Shakspeare received the greater 
part of the materials that were used in the construction of thi» 
play from the Troy Book of Lydgate, It is presumed. that the 
learned commentator woold have been nearer the fact had he 
sabstitated the Troy Book, or Recueyl, translated by Caxton from 
Raoul Le Fevre; which, together with a translation of Homer, 
supplied the incidents of the Trojan war. Ljdgate's work was 
becoming obsolete, whilst the other was at this time in the prime 
of its vigour. From its first publication, to the year 1619, it 
had passed through six editions, and continued to be popular 
even in the eighteenth century. Mr. Steevens is still les accu- 
rate in stating Le Fevre's work to be a translation from Gnido 
of Colonna^ for it is only in the latter part that he has made 
any use of him. Yet Guide actually had a French translation 
.before the time of Raoul ; which translation, though never 
printed, is remaining in MS. under the whi^isical title o£ " La 
Vie de la pUieuse Destruction de la noble et superlative Cit^ de 
Troye le grant. Translat6e en Fran9ois Tan MCCCLXXX." Such 
part of the present play as relates to the loyes of Troilup an^ 
Cressida was most probably taken from Chaucer, as no other 
work, accessible to Shakspeare, could have supplied him with 
what wa^ necessary.' This account is by Mr. Douce, from whom 
also what follows on this subject is abstracted. 

Chaucer, in his Troilus and Creseide, asserts that he followed 
Lolliue, and that he translated from the' Lalm: but who Lollius 
was, and when he lived, we have no certain indication, though 
^Dryden boldly asserts that he was an historiographer of Urhino^ 


in Italy, and wrote in Latin verse. Nothing can be more appa- 
rent than that the Filostrato of Boccaccio afforded Chancer the 
fable and characters of his poem, and even numerons passages 
appear to be mere literal translations ; but there are large addi- 
tions in Chanoer's work, so that it is possible he may hareibl- 
lowed a fr«e Latin version, wJiich may have bad for its author 

Boccaccio does not give his poem as a translation, and we 
mast therefore suppose him to haie been the inventor of the 
fable, ufitil we have more certain indications respecting LoUius. 
So much of it as relates to the departure of Cressida from Troy, 
and her subsequent amour with Biomed, is to be found in the 
Troy Book of Guido of Colonna, composed in 1287, and, as he 
states, from Dares Phrygius, and Dicty's Cretensis, neither of 
whom mention the name of Cressida. Mr.Tyrwhitt conjectured, 
and Mr. Douce confirmed the conjecture, that Guide's Dares 
was in reality an old Norman poet, named BenoU de Saint More, 
who wrote in the reign of our Henry the Second, and who him- 
self made use of Dares. Guide is said to have come into Eng- 
land, where he found the Metrical Romance of Benoit, and 
translated it into Latin prose; and, following a practice too 
prevalent in the middle ages, he dishonestly suppressed the 
mention of his real original. Benoit's work exists also in a 
prose French version. And there is a comfnlation also in French 
prose, by Pierre de Beauvau, from the Filostrato. 

Lydgate professedly followed Guido of Colonna, occasionally 
making use of and cijting other authorities. In a shert time 
after Raoul le Fevre compiled from various materials his Ae- 
€ueU des Histoires de Troye, which was translated into English 
and published by Caxton : but neither of these authors have 
given any more of the story of Troilus and Cressida than any of 
the other romances on the war of Troy ; Lydgate contenting 
liimself with referring to Chancer. 

Chaucer having made the loves of Troilas and Cressida fa- 
4Boas, Shakspeare was induced to try their fortunes on the 
stage. Lydgate*s Troy Book was printed by Pynson in 1§I9. 
In the4>ooks'of the Stationers' Company, anno 1581, is entered 
A proper Bailad dialoguewise betwen Troilus and Cressida/ 
Again, by J. Roberts, Feb. 7, 1602 : * The Booke of Troilus nnd 
'Cressida, as it is acted by my Lord Chamberlain's men.' And 


in Jan. 28, 1608, entered by Ricb»rd Boniaa and Hen. Whallej : 
* A Booke oalled the Histoij of Troilas and Cressida.' This 
last entry is made by the booksellers, who published this play 
in 1609. To this edition is prefixed a preface, shcrwing^ 
that the play was printed before it had been acted ', and that it 
was published, without the author's knowledge, from a copy 
that had fallen into the booksellers' hands. This preface, a» 
bestowing just praise on Shakspeare, and showing -that the ori- 
ginal proprietors of his plays thought it their interest to keep 
them unprinted, is prefixed to the play in the present edition. 
It appears. from some entries in the accounts of Henslowe the 
player, that a^drama on this subject, by Decker and Chettle> at 
first called TroyeUes an4 Cressida, but, before its production, 
altered in its title to The Tragedy of Agamenuton^ was in exist- 
ence anterior io Shakspeare's play, and that it was licensed by 
the Master of the Revels on the 3d of June, 1599. Malone. 
places the date of the composition. of Shakspeare's play in 1602 ', 
Mr. Chalmers in 1600; and Dr. Drake in 1601. They have 
been led to this conclusion by the supposed ridicule of the cir* 
cumstance of Cressid receiving the sleeve of Troilus and giving 
bim her glove in the comedy of Histriomastix, 1610. I think 
that the satire was pointed at the older drama of Decker and 
Chettle ; and should certainly give a later date to the play of 
Shakspeare than that which has been assigned to it. If we may 
credit the preface to the 4to. of 1609, this play had -not then 
appeared on the stage, and could not therefore have been ridi- 
culed in a piece written previous to the death of Queen Elizar 
beth (see note on Act iv. So. 4). Malone says, ' Were it not 
for the entry in the Stationers' books [of which there is no proof 
that it relates to this play], I should have been led, both by the 
colour of the style, and from this preface, to class it in the year 

There Is no reason for concluding with Schlegel that Shak- 
speare intended his drama as ' qpe continued irony of the crown 
of all heroic tales — the tale of Troy.' The poet abandoned the 
classic and followed the gothic or romantic authorities; and 
this influenced the colour of his performance. The fact pro- 
bably is, that he pursued the manner in which parts of the story 
had been before dramatised. There is an interlude on the sub^ 


jeci of Thersites*, reiembliiig Uw Old Mysterie« in its stmen 
tore, bat fall of the lowest baffoonerj. If the drama of Decker 
and Chettle were now to be found, I doabt not we sboold a«e 
tbat the present play was at least founded on it, if not a mere 

' The whole catalogue of the Dramatis Persoqa; in the plaj 
•f Tvoilas and Cressida (sajs Mr. Godwin), so far as ihejr de* 
pend npon a rich and original vein of homonr in the author, aro 
drawn with a felicity which neyer was sarpassod. The genina 
of Homer has been a topic of admiration to almost oTery gene- 
ration of men since the period in which he wrote. Bat his 
characters will not bear the slightest comparison with the deli- 
neation of the same characters as they stand in Shakspewre. 
This is a species of honoar which oaght by no means to be for- 
gotten when we are making the euloginm of oor immortal bard, 
a sort of illastration of his greatness which cannot fail to plaoa 
it in a very- cpospicnons light. The dispositions of men p^hi^ 
had not been snflGiciently unfolded in the very early period of 
intellectual refinement when Homer wrote ; the rays of humour 
had not been dissected by the glass, or rendered perdurable by 
the rays of the poet. Homer's characters are drawn with a 
laudable portion of variety and consistency; but his Achilles, 
his Ajia, and his Nestor are, each of them, rather a species 

* This interlude, together with another not less curious called 
Jack Juggler, was reprinted from a qpique copy by Mr. Hasle- 
wOod for the Roxburgh clab. I owe to the friendly kindnesa 
of that gentleman the marked distinction of possessing one of 
four additional copies printed for friends not members of that 
society. These rude dramas are not mere literary cariosities, 
they form a prominent feature in the history of the progress 
of the stage, and are otherwise valuable as illustrating the state 
of manners and language in the reign of Henry the Eighth. I 
have found colloquial phrases and words explained by then, 
of which it would be vain to seek illustratipus elsewhere. 

t Mr. Tyrwhitt has observed that there are more hard bom- 
bastical phrases in this play than can be picked out of any other 
six plays of Shakspeare. Would not this be an additional argu- 
ment in favour of what I have here advanced, that it may be a 
mere idteration of Uie older play above mentioned ? 


than an individnal, and can boast more of the propriety of ab- 
straction than of the vivacity of the moving scene of absolute 
life. The Achilles, Ajax, and the various Grecian heroes of 
Shakspeare, on the other hand, are absolutely men deficient in 
nothing which can tend to individualise them, and already touch- 
ed with the Promethean fire that might infuse a soul into what, 
without it, were lifeless form* From the rest, perhaps, the 
character of Thersites deserves to be selected (how cold and 
sohoolboy ft sketch in Homer), as e)chibiting an appropriate 
vein of sarcastic humour amidst his cowardice, and a profound- 
ness and truth in his mode of laying open the foibles of those 
about him, impossible to be excelled.' 

' Shakspeare possessed, no man in a higher perfection, the 
true dignity and loftiness of the poetical afflatus, which he had 
displayed in many of the finest passages of hii works withmira- 
isulous success. But he klie^ that no man ever was, or ever can 
be always dignified. He JCttew that those subtler traits of cIme- 
Tacter which identify a man are famUiar and relaxed, pervaded 
with passion, and not played off with an eye to external deco- 
rum. In (iiis respect the peculiarities of Shakspeare's genius 
are no where more forcibly illustrated than in the play we are 
here considering.' 

'* The champions of Greece and Troy, from the hour in which 
llheir names were first recorded, had always worn a certain for- 
Hfftlit^ (Sf attire, and marched with a slow and meaisured step. 
'No po«t, till this time, had ever ventured to force them out of 
4he manner which their epic creator had gjv^n them. Shak- 
speare first supplied their limbs, took from them the classic 
stiffness of their gait, and enriched them with an entire set of 
those attributes which might render them completely beings of 
the same species with ountelves*.' 

liJFe of Chaucer, vol. i. pi 509-12, Sto^isfd. 



A never writer, to an ever reader, Newes, 

£ternall reader, you have heere a new play, 
never stal'd with the. stage, never clapper-claw'd 
with the palmes of the vuiger, and yet passing full 
of thepalme'comicall; for it is a birth of your 
braine, that never iinder-tooke any thing commicalt, 
vainely : and were but the vaine names of comme- 
dies changde for the titles of commodities, or of 
playes for pleas; you should see all those grand 
censors, that now stile them such vanities, flock ta 
them for the maine grace of their gravities ; espe- 
cially this authors commedies, that are so fram'd 
to the life, that they serve for the most common 
commentaries of all the actions of our lives, shew- 
ing such a dexteritie and power of witte, that the 
most displeased with playes, are.pleasd with his 
commedies. And all such dull and heavy witted 
worldlings, as were never capable of the witte of a 
commedie, comming by report of them to his repre- 
sentations, have found that witte there, that they 
never found in them-selves, and have parted better- 
wittied then they came: feeling an edge of witte 
set upon them, more than ever they dreamd they 
. had braine to grind it on. So much and such 


favored salt of witte is in his commediesy that they 

seem (for their height of pleasure) to be borne in 

that sea that brought forth Venus. Amongst all 

there is none more witty than this : and had I time 

I would comment upon it^ though I know it needs 

not (for so much as will make you think your tes- 

tern well bestowd), but for so much Woith, as even 

poore I know to be stuft in it. It deserves such a 

labour, as well as the best commedy in Terence or 

Plautus. And beleeve this, that when hee is gone, 

and his commedies out of sale, you will scramble 

for them, and set up a new English inquisition. 

Take this for a warning, and at the perill of your 

pleasures losse, and judgements, refuse not, nor 

like this the lesse, for not being sullied with the 

smoaky breath of the multitude; but thank fortune 

for the scape it hath made amongst you. Since by 

the grand possessors wills I believe you should 

have prayd for them rather then beene prayd. And 

so I leave all such to bee prayd for (for the states 

of their wits healths) that will not praise it. Vale. 



Pbiam, King tif Troy. 
Hector, -\ 

Troilus, # 

Paris, \ Ma Sotu, 


Helbnvs, J 

JEneas^ J Trojan Commmden. 

Antenor, y '' 

CikicHAs, a Trojan Prie9t, taking part with the Greeks. 

Pandarus, C7hc2£f <o Cressida. 

Margarelom, a battard Sim qf "Priam* 

Agamemnon, the Grecian General* 
Menelaus, his Brother, 


Nmtor ' ^ Grecian Commanden. 



Thersites, a deformed and scurriknu Grecian. 
Alexander, Servant to Cressida. 
Servant to Troilus ; Servant to Paris ; Servant to 

Helen, Wtfe to Menelans. 
Andromache, Wtfe to Hector. 
Cassandra, Daughter to Priam.; a Prophetess. 
Crbssida, Daughter to Calchas. 

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants. 
SCENE—Troy, and the Grecian Can^ before it. 


In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greece 

The princes orgulous^, their high blood chafd. 

Hare to the port of Athens sent their ships, 

Fraught with the ministers and instruments 

Of cruel war : Sixty and nine, that wore 

Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay 

Put forth toward Phrygia: and their fow is made. 

To ransack Troy; within whose strong immures 

The rayish'd Helen, Menelaus' queen. 

With wanton Paris sleeps ; And that's the quarrel* 

To Tenedos they come ; 

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 

Their warlike fraughtage^ : Now on Dardan plains 

The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch 

Their braye pavilions: Priam's six-gated city, t 

Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan, 

And Antenorides, with massy staples. 

And corresponsiye and fulfilling bolts, 

' This Prologne is wanting in the qnarto editions. Steerens 
thinks that it is not by Shakspeare ; and that perhaps the drama 
itself is not entirely of his constraction. It appears to hare 
escaped Heminge and Condell, the editors of the first folio, 
ontil the Tolame was almost printed off; and is thrust in be- 
tween the tragedies and histories without any enumeration of 
pages, except on one leaf. There seems to hare been a pre- 
vious play on the same subject by Henry Chettle and Thomas 
Decker. Entries appear in the accounts of Henslowe of money 
adyanced to them in earnest of Troylles and Gressida, in April 
and May, 1599. 

' Orgulous, proud, disdainful ; orgueUieux, Fr. 

» JFreight. 


Sperr* up the sons of Troy. 

Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits. 

On one and other side, Trojan and Greek, 

Sets all on hazard : — And hither am I come 

A prologue arm'd,-r~but not in confidence 

Of author's pen, or actor's voice ; but suited 

In like conditions as our argument, — 

To tell you, fair beholders, that our play 

Leaps o'er the vaunt ^ and firstlings of those broils^ 

'Ginning in the middle ; starting thence away 

To what may be digested in a play. 

Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ; 

Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war. 

* Sperr or spar, to close, fasten, or bar up ; from the Saxoq 
fpajijiao. A word not jet disased in the northern counties. The 
tar of a gate or door is called a spar. Thus Spenser :-*- 

' The other that was entred, laboured fast 

To sperre the gate.* F, Q, b. t. c. 10. 

* i. e. the avant^ what went before. Thus in Lear: — 

' Vaunt coariers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts.' 
What is now called the van of an aimj was formerlj called the 



SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's Palace. 

Enter Troilus armed, and Pandarus. 


Call here my yarlet^, I'll unarm again : 
Why should I war without the walls of Troy, 
That iind such cruel battle here within ? 
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart. 
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none^ 

Pan, Will this geer ne'er be mended ? 

Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to their 
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness yaiiant; 
But I am weaker than a woman's tear, 

' This word, which we "hare from the old French varlet or 
vadlet, ancientlj signUied a groom, a aervtmt of Uie meaaer «ort. 
Holiothed^ speakijig of 4h6 battle of AgiBOourt, saji, ' ttwerse 
were releeved by their vtnrUts and oonyeied oat of Ihe iield/ 
Cotgraye says, * In old time it was a more honourable title ;' 
for all young. geatlemen vatill they«ame,to be eighteen yeres 
of age were so tearmed/ He says, the term came into dis- 
esteem in the reign of Francis I. till when the gentlemen of the 
king's chamber were called vahts de chamhre. In one of onr 
old statvtes, 1 Henry IV. e. 7, anno 1999, are these words :— ^ 
■ ' Bt qne nolle vmdkt appell6 yoman preigae ne use nalle lireree 
da roi ne de nail autre seignour sur peine d^mprisonemetat.' 

' i. e. m addition fo. This kind of phraseology occurs in 
Macbeth, Act i. Sc. ii. p. 212 ; see note there. 

E E 2 


Tamer than sleep, fonder ^ than ignorance ; 
Less valiant than the virgin in the night. 
And skill4e8S as unpractis'd infancy. 

Pan, Well, I have told you enough of this : for 
my pait. 111 not meddle fior make no further^ He 
that will have a cake out of the wheat, must tarry 
the grinding. 

Tro. Have I not tarried? 

Pan, Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the 

Tro. Have I not tarried? 

Pan, Ay, the bolting; but you inust tarry the 

Tro, Still have I tarried. 

Pan, Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet in 
the word — hereafter, the kneading, the making of 
the cake, the heating of the oven, and the baking; 
nay, you must stay the cooling too, or you may 
chance to burn your lips. ' 

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be. 
Doth lesser blench'* at sufferance than I do. 
At Priam's royal table do I sit; 
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, — 

So, traitor! — when she comes! When is she 


Pan, Wel)^ she looked yesternight fairer than 
ever I saw her look, or any woman else. 

Tro. I was about to tell thee, — When my hearty 
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain ; 
Lest Hector or piy father should perceive me, 
I have (as when the sun doth light a storm), 

^ i.e. more weak or foolish. Dryden has taken thia apeech 
aa it stands in his alteration of this play, except that he has 
changed, skiU-Usst in the last line, to artless ; which, as Johnsmi 
obserres, is no improvement. 

* To blench, is to shrink, start, or fly off. See Hainlet, Act ii. 
So. 2 ; and vol. ii. p. 91. 

^ury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: 

But sorrow, that is cou<^h'd in seeming gladness. 

Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.' 

: Pan, An her hair were not somewhat darker 
than Helen's (well, go to), there were no mor^ 
comparison between the women, — But, for my part, 
she is my kinswoman; I would not, as they term 
it, praise her, — But I would somebody, had heard 
her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dispraise 
your sister Cassandra's wit; but — 

Tro, O Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus« — 
Wh^n I do tell thee. There my hopes lie drown'd, 
Reply not in how many fathoms ^eep 
They lie indrench'd. I tell tiiee, I am mad 
In Cressid's love: Thou answer *st. She is fair; 
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
Her eyes, Jner hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice, 
Haindlest in thy discourse; — O, that her hand^l 
,In whose comparison all whites are ink. 
Writing their own reproach ; To whose soft seizure 
.The cygnet*s down is harsh, and spirit of sense ^ 

^ HandleM is here nsed metaphoricsUy, with an alIasion» at 
the same time, to its literal meaning. The same play on the 
iwords is in I'itus Andronicas : — 

* O handle not the theme, to talk of handsj 
Lest we rememher still that we have none !' 
Steevens remarks that the beauty of a female 'hand seems to 
haye a strong impression on the poet's mind* Antony Cannot en- 
dare that the hand of Cleopatra should be touched. In Romeo 
and Juliet we hare : — 

* Ihe white wonder of dear Juliet's Imnd,* 

And, in the Winter's Tale, Florizel thus beautifully descants on 

•that of his mistres : — 

* I take thy hand ; this hand 

As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; 
Or Ethiopian's tooth ; or the fann'd snow 
That's bolted bv the northern blasts twice o'er.' 

, •. Warburtpn rashly altered this to * spite of jBense.'-r- 

Hanmer reads ;—' — — to ih* spirit of sense.' Which is.consi- 


Hard as the palm of ploughman ! This thou tell'st me, 
As true thou tell'st me, when I say— *I love her; 
But, sayingj thus, instead of oil and balm. 
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me 
The knife that made it. 

Pan. I speak no more than truth. 

Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. 

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as 
she is: if she be fair, 'tis the better for her; an she 
be not, she has the mends in her own hands ^. 

Tro. Good Pandarus, ! How now, Pandarus ? 

Pan, I have had my labour for my travel ; ill- 
thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you ; gone 
between and between, but small thanks for my la- 

Tro, What, art thou angry, Pandarus? what, 
with me ? 

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, she's 
not so fair as Helen: an she were not kin to me, 
she would be as fair on Friday, as Helen is on Sun- 
day. But what care I ? I care not, an she were a 
black-a-moor ; 'tis all one to me. 

Tro, Say I, she is not fair ? 

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's 

dered right and necessary bj Mason. Johnson does not rightly 
tmderstlnd the passage, and therefore erroneonsly explains it. 
It appears to me to mean ' The spirit of sense (i. e. sensafton), 
in tomching the cygnet's down, is harsh and hard as the palm of 
t ploughman, compared to the sensation of softness in pressing 
Cressid's hand.' 

' ' Sfie has the mends in her own hands' is a proverbial phrase 
common in our old writers, which probably signifies ' It is htk 
own fault ; or the remedy lies with herself.' ' And if men will 
be jealous in such cases, the mends is in their owne hands, they 
must thank themselves.' — Burton Anat. of Melon, p. 605, ed. 
1632. ' I shall stay here and have my head broke, and then I 
have the mends m wy ovon hmds.^^^WtmasCs a WeaiUierc6ok, 

SC. I. CRESSIDA* 321! 

a fool to stay behind her father®; let her to the 
Greeks; and so 111 tell her the next time I see 
her : for my part, I'll meddle nor make no more in 
the matter. 

TVo. Pandarus, — 
. Pan. Not L 

Tro, Sweet Pandanis, — 

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me ; I will 
leave all as I found it, and there an end. 

[Exit Pandarus. An AlarwoK. 

Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace» 
rude sounds ! 
Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs be fair» 
When with your blood you daily paint her thus. 
I cannot fight upon this argument; 
It is too stanr'd a subject fof my sword. 
But, Pandarus — O gods, how do you plague me I 
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar; 
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo. 
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. 
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love. 
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we? 
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl: 
Between our Ilium ^, and where she resides, 

' Calchas, according^ to the Old Troj Book*, was ' a fcreat 
learned bishop of Troj/ who was sent by Priam to consult the 
oracle of Delphi concerning the event of the war which threat- 
ened Agamemnon. As soon as he had made ' his oblations and 
demands for them of Troj, Apollo annswered unto him sajing, 
Calchas, Calohas, beware thou retnrne not back againe to Troy, 
bat goe thoa with Achylles unto the Greekes, and depart neyer 
from ihem, for the Greekes shall have yiotorie of the Trojans, 
by the agreement of the gods.' — Hiat, of the Destruction of Tro^, 
translated by Caxton, ed. i617. The prudent bishop immediately 
joined the Greeks. 

' Ilium, properly speaking, is the name of the city ; Troy that 
of the country. But Sbakspeare. following the Troy Book, gires 
that name to Priam's palace, said to have been built upon a 
high rock. 


Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood ; 
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar^, 
Our doubtful hope, bur convoy, and our bark. 

Alarum. Enter iBNEAS. 

JEne. How now, Prince Troilus^^? wherefore 

not afield ? 
Tro. Because not there; This woman's answer 
sorts ^^, 
For womanish it is to be from thence. 
What news, iBneas, from the field* to-day? 
JEke, That Paris is returned home, and hurt. 
Tro, By whom, .^eas? 
.^ke. , Troilus, by Menelaus. 

TVo. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a tscar to scorn ; 
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alamm, 

JEne. Hark! what good sport is out of town 

to-day ! 
Tro, Better at home, if VMuld I might ^ were may, — 
But, to the sport abroad; — Are you bound thither? 
JEne, In all swift haste. 

Tro. » Come, go we then together. 


SCENE II. The same, A Street. 

Enter Cressida and Alexander. 

Cres, Who were those went by ? 

Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. 

10 < This pank is one of Cupid's carriers ; 

Clapton more saiJs/ &c. 

Merry Wives of Windsor, 
*^ Troilus was pronounced hj Shakspeare and his oontempo- 
raries as a dissyllable. Fop» has once or twice fallen into the 
same error. - 

*' i. e. 6tSy suits, is congruous. So ia King Henry V. : — ' . 
'It sorts well with thy fierceness.* 

S€. II. CRE$SLI>A. 083 

Cres. And whither go they ? ' 

Alex, Up to th<B eastern tower^ 

Whose height commands as subject all the .vale^ 
7o see the battle. Hector, whose patience 
Is, as a virtue, fix'd, to-day was moy'd : 
He chid A ndromache, and struck hb armouner ; 
And, like as there were husbandry^ in war. 
Before the sun rose, he was hamess'd light ^, 
And to the field goes he; where every flower 
Did, as a prophet, weep ^ what it foresaw 
In Hector's wrath. 

Cres, What was his cause of anger ? 

Akx. The noise go^, this: There is among the 
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector; 
They call him, Ajax. 

Cres. Good ; And what of hka ? 

Ak^, They say he is a very man per se \ 
And stands alone. 

* Husbtatdry is thrift. Thus in King Henry V. : — 

' — oar bad neighbours make as early stirrers, 
Which is both heaJthfal and good husbandry* 

' The commentators have all taken £1^^ here as referring to 
armour. Poor Theobald, who seems to hare had a suspicion 
that it did not, falls under the lash of Warburton for his teme- 
rity. Light, hqvreyer^ here has no reference to the mociein which 
Hector was armed, but to the legerity or alacriiy with which he 
armed himself before stinrise. Light and lightly are often used 
for nimbly, quickly, remdUy, by our old writers. No expression 
is more common than ' Ught of foot.' And Shakspeare hm «veD 
used ' Ught of ear.' 
, * ' And when she vieeps, weeps every little jfow^r^ 

Lamenting/ &c. Midsummer Nighfs J),r*am» 

* i. e. an extraordinary or incomparable person, Hke the letter 
A by itself. The usual mode of this old expression is A per se. 
Thusin Henrysoun's Testament of Cresseid, wrongly attributed 
by Steeyens to Chaucer : — 

* Of faire Cresseide, the floure and a per se of Troy and 

JknA iQ Blurt Master Constable, 1602 :— 

* That is the a per se and creaae of #11.' 


Cres. So do all men; unless they are drunk, 
sick, or have no legs. 

Alex, lliis man, lady, hath robbed many beasts 
of their particular additions^; he is as vdiant as 
the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant, 
a man into whom nature hath so crouded humours 
that hi& valour is crushed^ into folly, his folly 
sauced with discretion: Ih^re is no man hath a 
virtue that he hath not a glimpse of; nor any man 
an attaint, but he carries some stain of it : he is 
melancholy without cause, and merry against the 
hair 7 : He hath the joints of every thing; but every 
thing so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, 
many hands and no use; or purblind Argus, all 
eyes and no sight. 

Cres. But how should this man, that makes ibe 
smile, make Hector angry ? 

Alex* They say, he yesterdi^y coped Hector in 
the battle, and struck lum down; the disdain and 
shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting 
and W9>king« 

Enter Pandahus. 

Cres. Who comes here ? 
Alex, Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 
Cres, Hector's a gallant man. 
Alex, As may be in the world, lady. 
Pan. What's that ? what's that ? 

* Their Htles, nunrhs of distinction of denominoHons. The term 
in this sense is originally forensic. 

* — Whereby be doth receire 
Particular additunu from the bill 
That writes them all alike.' Macbeth, 

* i. e. confased and mingled with folly. So in Cymbeline i—^ 

' Crush him together, rather than unfold 
His measure daly.' 

7 Eqniralent to a phrase still in nse^Agamtt tht grain. The 
Frenoh say, a conire poiL 

SC. ir. CRESSIDA. ^25 

Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarns. 
- Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid: What do 
you talk of? — Good morrow, Alexander. — How 
do you, cousin? When were you at Ilium? 

Cres. This morning, uncle. 

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came? 
Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye came to 
Ilium? Helen was not up, was she? 

Cres, Hector was gone; but Helen was not up. 

Pan. E'en' so ; Hector was stirring early. 

Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger; 

Pan. Was he angry? 

Cres. So he says here* 

Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause too: 
he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that; ' 
and there is Troilus will not come far behind him ; 
let them take heed of Troilus ; I can tell them that 
* Cres. What, is he angry too ? 

Paan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man 
of the two. 

Cres. O, Jupiter ! tiiere's no comparison. 

Pan. What, not between Troilus and Hector? 
Do you know a man if you see him? 

'Cres. Ay ; if ever I saw him before, and knew him. 

Pan. Well, I say, Troilus is Troilus. 

Cres. Then you say as I say ; for, I am sure, he 
is not Hector. 

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some 

Cres. Tis just to each of them ; he is hhnself. 

Pan. HioMelf? Alas, poor Troilus! I would, 
he were, 

Cres. So he is. 

Pan. Condition^ I had gone barefoot to 


VOL. VII. p F 

920 TJ^tOtl^US AND ACT I. 

Cres, He is not Hectqr. 
, Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself — 'Would 'a 
were himself! Well, the gods are alMwe; Time 
must friend, or end : Well, Troilus, w^ell,^^! vouUU 
my heart were in her body I — Xo, Hector is not a 
better man than Troilus. « 
, Cr^, Excuse me. 

Pan. He is elder. 

Cre«. Pardon me, pardon me. 

Pan. The other's not come to't; ytm shall tell, 
me another tale when the other's come to't. Hector 
shall not have his wit this year. 

Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own. 

Pan. Nor his qu$dilies ; — 
• Cres. Nomatten 

Pan. Nor hi$ beauty. 

Cres, Twould uQt become him, his own's better. 

Pan. You have no judgment, niece : Helen her* 
self swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown 
favour (for so 'tis, I must confess), — Not. brown 

Cres. No, but brown. 

Pan. ']Faitb, to.say truth, brown and not brown. 

Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. 

Pan. She prais'd his complexion above Paris. 

Cres. Why, Paris bath colour enough. 

Pan. So he has. 

Cres. Then, Troilus should have too much: if 
^he praised him above, his complexion is higher 
than his ; he having colour enough, and the other 
higher^ is too flaming a praise for a gbod com- 
plexion, i had us lief, Helen's golden tongue bad 
commended Troilus for a copper nose. 

^ Pan. I swear to you, I think, Helen iovoa him 
JMBtt^rthan Paris. 

Cres. Then she's a merry Greek®, indeed. . 

' Sec vol. i. f>. 370, note 1. 

Fan, Nay, I am gure she does; She came to 
him the other day into a compassed^ window, — - 
and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs 
on his chin. 

Cres, Jndeed, a tapster's arithmetick may soott 
bring his particulars therein to a total. 

Pan, Why, he is very young : and yet will he, 
within three pound, lift as much as his brother 

Cres, Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter ^^ ! 

Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen lores 
him ; — she came, and puts me her white hand t^ 
his cloven chin, 

Cres, Juno haver mercy ! — Ho^ came it cloven ? 

Pan* Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think, 
his smiling becomes him better than any man in all 

Cres, O, he smiles valiantly. 

Pan, Does he not? 

Cres, O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. 

Pan. Why, go ta then: — But to prove to you 
that Helen loves Troilus, 

Cres. Troilus will stand to tiie proof, if youll 
prove it so. 

Pan, Troilus? why, he esteems her no more 
tiian I esteem an addle e^^, 

Cres, If you k>ve an addle egg as well as you 
love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the 

Pan, I cannot choose but laugh to think how 

' A compassed window is a drcular bow window. The same 
«pithet is applied to the cape of a woman^s gown in The Taminf^ 
of the Shrew : — ' A small compassed cape.' A coved ceiling is 
jet in some places called a compassed ceilibg^. 

<® lAfter, a tenn for a thkf; from the Gothic hiSfhu, thns 
in HoUand's Leagner, 1638:-^' Broker or pander, cheater or 
lifter^ Drjden nsea the verb to li/l for to tob, Shop-j^er ik 
still nsed for one who robs a skof*. 


she tickled his chin;— rlbdeed^ she ha3 a macvelibus 
white hand, I must needs ccmfess. 
. Cre$, Without the rack. . 

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white 
hair on his chin. 

Cres. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer. 
. Pftn. But tiiere was such, laughing; — Queen 
]EIecuba laughed, that her eyes, ran o'er. 

Cres. With mill-stones ^^. 

Pan. And Cassandra laughed. 

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under 
the pot of her eyes;— Did her eyes run o'er too? 

Pan. And Hector laughed. 

Cres. At what was all this laughing? 
^ Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied 
Hn Troilus' chin. 

Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have 
laughed too. 

Pan. They laughed not so much at the hair, as 
at his pretty answer. 

Cres. What was his answer? 

Pan. Quoth she, Here^s but one andjifty hairs 
on your chin^ and one of them is white* 

Cres. This is her question. 

Pan.. That's true; make no question of that. 
One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: Thai 
twhite hair is my father, and aU the rest are his 
sonsp . Jupiter ! quoth she, . which of these hairs is 
Paris my husband? The forked one, quoth he; 
pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was such 
laughing! and Helen so blushed, and Paris so 
xhafed, and all the rest so laughed, that it passed ^h 

" So in King iRichard IIL:— 

' Yonr ejes drop mill-stones, when fool's eyes drop tears.' 

*' i. Bi passed all expression. See toI. i. p. 196, note 28. 
.Cressida plays pn tha^^ord as ased by Pandarua, by employing 
it herself in its common acceptation. 

8C. n. CABSSIDA. 336 

CVi». So let it now; for it has be^n a gteat wkile 
going by. 

Pan* Welly cousin, I told you it thing yesle^ay \ 
think on't. 

CVes. So I do. 

Pan. I'll be 6Woni»'t]ii true; h^ will weep you, 
an 'twere a man born in April. 

CVes. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere 
a nettle against May. [A Retreat sounded. 

Pan, Hark, they are coming from the field: 
Shall we stand up here, and see ^em, as they pass 
toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet niece Cre»- 

Ores. At your pleasure. 

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent plac^; here 
we may see most bravely : I'll (ell you them all by 
th^r names, as they pass by; but mark Troilus 
abo?e the rest. 

^NEAS passes over the stage. 

Cres, Speak not so loud. 

Pan. That's ^neas ; Is not that a brave man ? 
he's one of the flowers of Troy, t can tell you : But 
mark Troilus ; you shall see anon. 

Cres. Who's that? 

ANTBNOR/MiMes ot?er« • 
Pan. That's Antenov: he has a shrewd wit^', I 

*' According to Lydgate — 

* Antfaeaor was ■ ■ 

Copioas io words, and one that mach time spent 

To jest, when as be was in companie, 

So driely, tfaat no man could it espie ; 
And therewith held his conntenance so well. 

That eyerj man received great coAtent 
To heare him speake, and prettj jests to tell, 
When he was pleasant and in merriment : 

For tho' that he mott conunonlj was sad, 

Yet in his speech some jest he always had.' 
Sad», in the hands of a rade English poet, h the grave Antentfr ; 

F r2 


can tell you; and he's a m^ good enotrgh: fae's 
one o'the soundest judgments in Troy, vrhosoever^ 
fmd a proper man of person:; — When comes Troi- 
lus? — rU show you Troiius anon; if he see me^ 
you shall see him uod at me. 

€V*e». Will he giye you thp nod ? 

Pan. You shall s^e. 

Cres^ If he do> the rich shall have more^t. 

Hector passes over. 

Pan. That'^ Hector, that, that, look you, that; 
There's a fellow !— Go thy way. Hector; — ^There's 
a brave man, niece. O brave Hector! — Look^ 
how he looks! there's q, countenance: Is't not a 
brave .man ? v 

€res^ O, a brave man ! 

jPfin. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good—r 
Look you what hacks are on his helmet? look you 
yonder, do you see ? look you there \ There's no 
jesting: there's laying on; take't off who will,, as 
they say : there be hacks ! 

Cres. Be those with swords ? 

Paris passes over. 

Pan. Swords? anything, he cares not: an the 
devil come to him,* it's all one : By god's lid, it 
does one's heart good: — Yonder comes Paris, yon- 
der comes Paris: look ye yonder, niece; Is't not 
a gallant man too, i«'t not? — ^Why, this is brave 
now. — Who said, he came hurt home to-day? he's 
not hurt : why this will do Helen's heart good 

to whose wisdom it was thought necessary that the art of Ulysses 
should he opposed : — 

' £t mo^eo Priamnm, Priamoque Antenora jnnctnm/ 

** To give the nod was a term in the game at cards called 
Noddy. The word also signifies a silly fellom.. Cressid means 
to call Pandams a ttoddy^ and says be shall by more nodi ib^ 
'made more significantly a fool. 

.SC. II. CRESSfDA. 331 

kiow« Ha! woiild I could see Troilus ntiw! — yon 
^bail see Troilus, anon. 
Cres. Who's that? 

H £ LE N u 8 />a«ses oven 

Pan, That's Hejenus, — J marvel where Troilus 
is : — Thafs Helenus ; — I think he went not forth tov 
day : — ^That's Helenus. 

Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle ? . 

Pan. Helenus? no: — yes, he'll iight indifferent 
well : — I marvel, where Troilus is ! — Hark ; do you 
not hear the people cry, Troilus? — Helenus is a 
priest. . 

Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? - 

Troilus passes over. 

Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: Tis 
Troilus ! thiere's a man, niece !- — Hem ! — Brave 
Troilus ! the prince of chivalry ! 

Cres. Peace, for shame, peace ! 

Pan. Mark him; note him;-^0 brave Troilus! 
— look well upon him, niece; look you, how his 
«word is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than 
Hector's : And. how he looks, and how. he goes!-^ 
O admirable youth! he ne'er saw three and twenty. 
Go thy way, Troilus, • go thy way ; had I a sister 
were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should 
take his choice. O admirable man! Paris ?-^Paris 
18' dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, 
would give an eye to boot. 

Forces pass over the stage. 

Cres. Here coipe more. 

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts! chaff and bran,. chaff 
and bran! porridge after meati I could live and 
die i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne^er look, ne'er look ; 


the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and 
daws ! I had rather be such a man as Troilus, than 
Agamemnon and all Greece. 

Cres, There is among the Greeks, Achilles ; a 
better man than Troilus. 

Pan, Achilles? a drayman, a porter, a very 

Cres. Well, well. 

Pan. Well, well?-^Why, have you any discre- 
tion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a 
man is ?. Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, 
manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, libe*- 
rality, and such like, the spice and salt that seasos 
a man? 

Cres. Ay, a minced man : and then to be baked 
with no date^^ in the pie, — ^for then the man's date 
is out. 

Pan* You are such a woman! one knows not at 
what ward^^ you lie. 

Cres. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon 
my wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy, to 
defend mine honesty ; my mask, to defend my beau- 
ty; and you, to defend all these: and at all these 
wards I Ue, at a thousand watches. 

Pai/u Say one of your watches. 

Cres. Niay, Fll watch you for that; and that's 
one of the chiefest of them too ; if I cannot ward 
what I would not have hit, I can watch you for 
telling how. I took, the blow ; unless it swell past 
hiding, and then it is past watching. 

Pan. You are such another ! 

*' Dates were an ingredient in ancient pastry of almost every 
kind. The same quibble occurs in All's Well that Ends WeJ^ 
Act i. Sc. 1. 

1^ A metaphor from the art of defence. Falstaff, King Henry 
IV. Part I. says, ' Thon know'st my old ward; here I lay,' Sec. 

SC. II.. . CRESSIDA. 33$ 

Enter Troiltjs' Boy. 

Bqy, Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you; 

Pan. Where? 

Boy. At your own house; there he unarms him. 

Pan. Good hoy, tell him I come: [Exit Boy.] 
I doubt, he be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece. 

Cres, Adieu, uncle. 

Pan» I'll be with you, niece, by and by. 

Ores, To bring, uncle, 

Pan. Ay, a token from Trpilus. 

Cres. By the same token — you are a bawd. — 

[£in7 Pandabus. 
Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sacrifice. 
He offers in another's enterprise : 
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see 
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be; 
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing : 
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing : 
That she ^^ belov'd knows nought, that knows not 

this, — 
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is : 
That she was never yet, that ever knew 
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue : 
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, — 
Achievement is command ; ungain'd, beseech ^° : 
Then though my heart's content firm love doth bear. 
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. 


^"^-^ That she means that ironum. 

'® ' Achieyement is command ; angain'd, beseech.' The meaii^ 
ing of this obscure line seems to be, ' Men after possession be- 
come our commanders ; before it thej are oar sappliants.' 

' My heart* 8 content,' in the next line, probably signifies my 
wiU, my desire* ' • ' 


7%6. Grecian Camp. Before Agamemnon's Tent. 

Trumpets. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor,. 
Ulysses, Menelaus, and Others.. 

Agam* Princes, 
What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ? 
The ample proposition, that hope' makes 
In all designs begun on earth below, 
Fails in the promis'd largeness ; checks and disasters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd : 
As knots, by the confliix of meeting sap. 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant from his course of growdi. 
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us. 
That we come short of our suppose so far, 
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walls stand ;. 
Sith every action that hath gone before. 
Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim. 
And that unbodied figure of the thought 
That gav't surmised shape. Why then, you princes. 
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our works ; 
And think them shames, which are, indeed, nought 

But the protractive trials of grieat Jove, 
To find persistive constancy in men ? 
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In fortune's love : for then, the bold and coward. 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread. 
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd ^ and kin : 
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 

^ Joined bj affinity. The same adjective occurs in Othello :— 
* If partially affin'dy or leaguM in office/ 

SC. III. CRE^II>A. 835 

Distinction, ^idi a broad and powerful fan', 
Puffiog at all, winnows the light away ; 
And what hath mass^ or matter, by i^elf 
lies rich in virtue^ and unmingled. 

Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat^, 
GreiM: Againemnon, Nestor shall apply ^ 
Thy lat^t words. In the reproof of chance 
Lies the true proof of men : The sea being smooth. 
How many sh^ow bauble boats dare sail . 
Upon her iatieat breast, making aieir way 
With those of nobler bulk ; 
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage 
The g^itle Thetis, and, anon, behold' 
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut, 
Bouodtng between the two moist elements, 
like Perseus' horse * : Whereas then the saucy boat, 
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
Co^rivaFd greatness ? either to harbour fled. 
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so 
Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, divide. 
In storms of fortune : For, in her ray and brightness, 

'. The thnm^ in which thou sittest like a descended god. 

' To ifpply here is used for to heni the mind, er attend pcur^ 
tieularly to Agamemnon's words. As in the following passage 
£roin Baret : ' To attende or opp/te his witte to something, and 
to ^ire his minde unto it' The example cited bjr Malone, from 
The Nice Wanton, is not to the purpose, the word there is nsed 
M we now nse to ply. As in another example from Baret, ' With 
diligent endeavonr to t^lie their studies.' 

* Pegasus was, strictly speaking, Bellerophon's horse, hut 
Shakspeare followed the old Troy Book. * Of the blood that 
issued out [from Medusa's head] Uiere engendered Pegasus, or 
the fyimg horse. By the flying horse that was engendered of 
the blood issued from her head, is understood that of her riches 
issuing of that realme he [Perseus] founded, and made a ship 
named Pegase, — and this ship was likened unto an horse, fiying,' 
&.C. In another place. we ^re told that thiB ship, which the 
writer always calls Perseus' fiying horse, * flew on. the sea like 
unto a bird.' Destruction qf Troy, 4to. 1617, p. 1^5—164. 


The herd hath more annoyance bjr the brtze^, 
Than by the tiger : but when the splitting wind 
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks. 
And flies fled under shade, Why, then, the thing of 

As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathiase^. 
And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, 
]Ketums to chiding fortune'^. 

Ulyss. Agamemnon, — 

Thou great icommander, nerve and bone of Greece, 
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. 
In whom the tempers and the minds of all . 
Should be shut up, — ^hear what Ulysses speaks. 
Besides the applause and approbation 
The which, — most mighty for thy place and dway, — 

[To Agamemnon. 
And thou most reverend for thy stretch!d-oat life, — 

[To* Nestor. 
I give to both your speeches, — which were such. 
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
Should hold up high in brass; and such again, 
As venerable Nestor, hatch'd in silver. 
Should with a bond of air (strong as the axletree 
On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears , 
To his experienc'd tongue ®,^— -yet let it please both, — • 
Thou great, — and wise, — to hear Ulysses speak. 

^ The gadfly that stijigs cattle. So in Antony and Cleopatra, 
Act iii. Sc. 8 : — < The hiize apon her like a cow in June.' And 

* a hrize, a scorned little creature, 

Thvoagh bis fair bide his angry sting did threaten.' 

* It is said of the tiger that in stormy and high winds he rages 
•nd roars most farioasly. 

• ' i. e. repliea to noisy or ckanorous fortune. Vide vol. i. p. 281 , 
note 10. 

* How maeh the commentators have perplexed themselvei 
•Ad their readers about the following passage ! 

< : speeches, — which were such. 

SC. in. CRESSIDA. 337 

Agam, Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of less 
That matter needless, of iniportless burden^ 
Divide thy lips; than we are confident, 
When ratik Thersites opes his mastiff jaws, 
We shall hear musick, wit, and oracle. 

Ulyss. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down, 
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, 
But for these instances. 
The speciality of rule^^ hath been neglected : 
And, look, how ikiany Grecian tents do stand 
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions. 
When that the general is not like the hive. 
To whom the foragers shall all repair. 
What honey is expected ? Degree being visarded, 
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre'^ 
Observe degree, priority, and place. 

As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
Should hold up high in brass ; and snch again, 
As venerable Nestor haicK'd in siher, 
Shoald vnth a bond of ttir' • 
knit all the Greekish ears 

To his experienced tongue.' 
tJl jsses evidently means to say that Agamemnon's speech should 
be writ m brass ; and that venerable Nestor, with his silver hairs, 
by his speech should rivet the attention of all Greece. The 
phrase hatcVd in siher, which has been the stumbling block, is a 
simile borrowed from the art of design ; to hatch being to fill a 
design with a nnmber of consecutive fine lines ; and to hatch in 
silver was a design inlaid with lines of silver, a process often 
Used for the hilts of swords, handles of daggers, and stocks of 
pistols. The lines of the graver on a plate of metal are still called 
katchirigs. Hence hatched m silver, for s^ver hair'd ot gray haired. 
Thus in Love in a Maze, 1632 : — 

' Thy hair is fine as gold, thy chin is hatched 
With sih6r,* 

^ Expect for expectation. 

*^ The particular rights of supreme aathority. 

'^ i. e* this globe. According to the System of Ptolemy, the 
•arth ir the centre roand which the planets move. 



Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, 

Office, and custom, in all line of order : 

And therefore is the glotious planet, Sol, 

In noble eminence ent;hf on'd and sphered 

Amidst the other ; whose med'cinable eye 

Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 

And posts, lil&e the cpnifnandment of a king, 

S|ans check, to good and bad : But when the planets. 

In evil mixture, to disorder wander ^^, 

Whtit plagues, and what portents ? what mutiny ? 

What raging of the sisa? shaking of earth? 

Commotion in the winds ? frights, changes, horrors. 

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate 

The unity and married" calm of states 

Quite from their fixture? O, when degree is shak'd. 

Which is the ladder of all high designs. 

The enterprise is sick ! How could communities. 

Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods^^ in cities. 

Peaceful commerce from diyidable ^^ shores, 

'* The apparent irregiilar motions of the planets were snpposed 
to portend some disasters to mankind ; indeed the planets them> 
selves were not thought formerly to be confined in any fixed 
orbits of their own, bnt to wander abont ad libitum, as Uie ety- 
mology of their names demonstrates. 

'^ The ejpithet married, to denote an intimate vnion, is employed 
also by Milton:— 

* Lydian airs 

Married to immortal T^rse.' 
Again i*^ 

* voice and verse 

Wed your divine sounds.' 
It is thought that Milton might have in his mind the following 
passage in Joshua Sylvester's Du Bartas, which Mr. Dunster has 
shown that he was familiar with :— 

' Birds marrying their sweet tunes to the angels' lays, 
Sung Adam's bliss, and their great Maker's praise.' 
Shakspeare calls a harmony of features married lineaments in 
Romeo and Juliet, Act i. Sc. 3. 

^* Confraternities, corporations,, companies. 
. •\* Dividable for divided, ai; corrigible for corrected, in Antony 
and Cleopatra. The tenpin|ition 6^ is often thus used by Sbak« 
speare for ed. 


The primogenitive and due of birth, 

Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels. 

But by degree, stand in authentick place ? 

Take but degree away, untune that string, 

And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets 

In mere^^ oppugnancy : The bounded waters 

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores. 

And mak^ a sop of all this solid globe ^"^ : 

Strength should be lord of imbecility. 

And the rude son should strike his father dead : 

Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong 

(Between whose endless jar justice resides). 

Should lose their names, and so should justice too. 

Then every thing includes itself in power. 

Power into will, will into appetite ; 

And appetite, an universal wolf, 

So doubly seconded with will and power. 

Must make perforce an universal prey. 

And, last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, 

This chaos, when degree is suffocate, 

follows the choking. 

And this neglection^^ of degree it is, 

That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose 

It hath to climb ^9. The general's disdain^ 

By him one step below; he, by the next; 

That next, by him beneath : so every step, 

Exampled by the first pace that is sick 

Of his superior, grows to an envious fever 

Of pale and bloodless emukition : 

'* i. e. absoliite. See vol. ii. p. 96/ note 14. 
^"^ So in Lear : — ' I'll make a ^opof the moonshine of yon.' In 
a former «peech a boat is said to be made a toast for Neptnne. 
'* This nncommon word occors again in Pericles, 1609: — 

* If neglection • 

Should therein make me vile.' 
*' ' That goes backward stqt by step, with a design in each 
man to' aggrandize himself by slighting his immediate sujperior.' 


And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot. 
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, 
Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strengtbf 

Nest. Most wisely bath Ulysses here discovered. 
The fever whereof all Qur power ^*^ is sick, 

Agam, The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses, 
What is the remedy ? 

l/lyss. The great Achilles, — ^whomopinion crowns 
The sinew and the forehand of our host^-^ 
Having his ear full of his airy fame ^^, 
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent 
Lies mocking our designs : With him, Pal^oclus^ 
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day 
Breaks scurril jests ; 

And with ridiculous and awkward action 
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls) 
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, 
Thy topless ^^ deputation he puts on; 
And, like a strutting player, — whose conceit 
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scaffoldage^^^i. 
Such to-be-pitied i^nd o'er-wrested seeming ^^ 

^ Army, force. 

^* Verbal ehgium. In Macbeth called mouth kotunar, 

'^ Sapreme, stvereign. 

' And topless honours he bestow'd on thee.' 

Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1698, 
^ Malone's sagacious note informs as that ' the galleries of 
the theatre were sometimes caUed the scaffolds.' This may he 
very true, but what has it to do with the present passage ? The 
scaffoldage here is thefioor of the stage, the wooden dialogue is be< 
tween the player's foot and the boards. A scaffold more fre^ 
qnently ipeant the sttfge itself than the gallery : thus Qaret, * A. 
scaffold or stage where to behold plays. Spectacnlum, theatrom.' 
And Cbauoer : — 

' He playeth Herode on a skaffold hie.' 

MiUeres Tale, 3393, 

''' h e* oyerstr^jned, wrested beyond true semblance, 


He acts thy ^eatness in : and when he speaks, 
Tis-like a chime a mending ; with tenns unsqu&ir'd^^. 
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd. 
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff, . 
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, 
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ; 
Cries — Excellent f — 'tis Agamemnon jusf. — 
Now play me Nestor ; — hem, and stroke thy heard. 
As he, being drest to some oration. 
That's done ; — as liear as the extremes! ends 
Of parallels^; as like as Vulcan and his wifd: 
Yet good Achilles still ciies, ExceUeiit! ' 
'Tis Nestor righJt I Now play him me, Patroclus, 
Arming to answer in a night alarm. 
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age^ 
Must be the scene of mirth ; to coiigh, and spit^ 
And, with a palsy-fumbling^ on his gorget. 
Shake in and out the riret : — and at this sport 
Sir Valour dies ; cries, O ! — eno/u^h, I^atroclus ; — 
Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all 
In pleasure of my spleen. And in this fashion. 
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
Severals and generals of grace exact ^, 
Achieyements, plots, orders, preventions. 
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce. 
Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 

Nest. And in the imitation of these twain 
(Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns 
With an imperial voice) many are infect. 
Ajax is grown self-will'd; and bears his head 

^ i. e. unsaited, anfitted. 

^ Johnson says ' the allusion seems to be made io the paral- 
lels on a map. As like as east to west.' 
^ Paralytic fumbling. 
^ Grac9 exact seems to mean decorous habits. 

6 G 2 


In such a rein^^, in full as proud a place 

As broad Achilles : keeps his. tent like him; 

Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war,. 

i^old as an oracle : and sets Thersites 

(A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a mint) 

To match us in con^parjsons with ditt; 

To weaken and discfredit our exposure, 

How rank soever rounded in with danger^. 

Ulyss. They tax pur policy, and call it cowardice ; 
Count wisdom as no luember of the war; 
Forestall prescience, and esteein no act 
But that of hand : the still and mental parts, — 
That do contrive how many hand? shall strike. 
When fitness calls them on; and know, by measure 
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weigbt,r-^ 
Why, this hath nx)t a finger's, dignity : 
They call this-— bed-work, mappefy, closet-war i 
So that the ram, that batters down the wall, 
For thd great swing and rudeness of his poize. 
They place before his hand that made the engine ; 
Or ^ose, that with the fineness of their souls 
By reason guide his execution. 

Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse 
Makes many Thetis' sons. [ Trumpet sonndsn 

Agam, What trumpet? look, Mfinelaua,. 

Enter ^neas. 

filen. From Troy. 

Agam. What would you 'fore our tent ? 

JEnje» Is this 

Great Agcmiemnon's tent, I pray? 

^ i. e. carrier himself haaghtily ; bridles tip. See Cotgrave 
in* Se rengorgerJ 

^ How rank soever rounded in with danger. How atrongiljf 
soever encompassed by danger. So in King Henry V. : — 
' How dread an army bath enronnded him.' 

SC. III. €RES6IDA. 343. 

Agam. Even^ this. 

^ne. May one, that is a herald, and a prince. 
Do a fait message to his kingly ears ? 

Agam, With surety stronger than Achilles' arm 
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice. 
Call Agamemnon head and general. 

JEne. Fair leave, and large security. How may 
A stranger to those most imperial looks 
Know them from eyes of other mortals ^^ ? 
' Agam,, How ? 

. JEke, Ay; 

I ask, that I might waken reverence. 
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus : 
Which is that god in office, guiding men ? 
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon? 

Agam. This Trojan scorns us ; or the men of Troy- 
Are ceremonious courtiers. 

^ne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd. 
As bending angels ; that's their fame in peace : 
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls, 
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, JoveV 

accord: — 
Nothing so full of heart ^^. But peace, ^neas, 

^^ And yet this was the seventh year of the war. - Shakspeare, 
who so wonderfully preserves character, nsnally confonnds the 
customs of all nations, and probably supposed that the ancients 
(like the heroes of chivalry) fought with beavers to their helmets. 
In the fourth act of this play, Nestor says to Hector :— 
' But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, 
I never saw till now.* 
Those who are acquainted with the embellishments of ancient 
manuscripts and books well know that the artists gave the 
costume of their own time to all ages. But in this anachronism 
they have been countenanced by other ancient poets as well as 

^^ Malone and. Steevens see difficulties in this passage; the 
former proposed to read ' Jove's a god;* the latter, ' Love's a 


Peace, Trojan ; lay thy finger on thy lips ! 
The worthiness of praise distains his worth, 
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth : 
But what the repinihg enemy commends. 
That breath fame follows ; that praise, sole pure, 

Agam, Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself .^Bneas ? 

jEne, Ay, Greek, Ihat is my name. 

x\gam, Whaf s your afiair, I pray you ? 

J^ne. Sir, pardon; 'tis for Agamemnon's ears. 

Agam. He hears nought privately that comes from 

J^ne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him: 
1 bring a trumpet to awake his ear ; 
To set his sense on the attentive bent, 
And then to speak. 

Agam. Speak* frankly ^^ as the wind; 

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour : 
That thou shalt know, Trdjan, he is awake. 
He tells thee so himself. 

^ne. Trumpet, blow loud. 

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents ; — 
And every Greek of mettle, let him know. 
What Troy means fairly, shall be spoke aloud. 

[Trumpet sounds. 
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy 
A prince call'd Hector (Priam is his falher), 

Uifd,* There is no point after the word accord in the qnarto 
copy, which reads ' greai Jove's accord.* Theobald's interpre- 
tation of the passage is, I think, nearly correct : — ' They hare 
galls, good arms, &c. and Jove's consent : — Nothing is so fall of 
heart as they.' I have placed a colon at accord, by which the 
sense is rendered clearer. 
^ So Jaqaes, in As Von like It: — 

* I must have liberty 

Withal, as large a charter as th% wind, 

To blow on whom I please.' 


Who in this dull and long continued truce ^ 
Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet^ 
And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, lords ! 
If there be one among the fairest of Greece, 
That holds his honour higher than his ease ; 
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril ; 
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear ; 
That loves his mistress more than in confession ^ 
(With truant vows to her own lips he loves). 
And dare avow her beauty and her worth. 
In other arms than hers, — to him this challenge, . 
Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, 
Shall make it good, or do his best to do it, 
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer. 
Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ; 
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call. 
Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy, 
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love : 
If any come, Hector shall honour him ; 
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, 
The Grecian dames are sun-bum'd, and not worth 
The splinter of a lance ^, Even so much. 

Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lotd^neas ; 
If none of them have soul in such a kind. 
We left them all at home : But we are soldiers ; 
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove. 
That means not, hath uot, or is not in love ! 
If then one is, or hath, or means to be. 
That one ii^eets Hector ; if none else, I am he 

^ Of this lon^ truce ther^ has been no notice taken ; ii^ this 
very act it is said, that ' Ajax coped Hector yesterday in the 
battle.' Shakspeare found in the seventh chapter of the third 
book of The Destruction of Troy that a truce was agreed on, at 
the desire of the Trojans, for six months. 

^ Confession for profession, < made with idle tows to the lips 
of her whom he Iotcs/ 

^ Steevens remarks that this is the language of romance. 
Such a challenge would have better suited Palmerin or Amadis, 
than Hectoi; or .^eas. 


Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that i^as a man 
When Hector's grandsire suck'd : he is old now ; 
But, if there be not in our Grecian host 
One noble man, that hath one spark of fire 
To answer for his love. Tell him from me, — 
I'll hide my silver beard in a g6ld beaver. 
And in my vantbrace^'^ put this wither'd brawn ; 
And, meeting him, will tell him, That my lady 
Was fairer than his grandam^, and a^ chaste 
As may be in the world : His youth in flood, 
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of blood. 

.^ke* Now heavens forbid such scarcity of youth ! 

Ulyss. Amen. 

Agam, Fair lord .tineas, let me touch your hand ; 
To our pavilioA shall I lead you, sir. 
Achilles shall have word of this intent; 
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent : 
Yourself shall feast wiUi us before you go. 
And find the welcome of a noble foe. 

[Exenint all hat Ultsses and Nestor. 

Ulyss, Nestor ^ 

Nest, What says Ulysses? 

Ulyss, I have a young conception in my brain. 
Be you my ttnie to bring it to some shape ^. 

Nest. Whatis't? 

Ulyss. This 'tis : 
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : The seeded pride 
That hath to this maturity blown up^ 
In rank Achilles, ikiust or now be crbpp'd, 

^ An armonr for the arm. Avani bras. Milton nses the word 
in Samson Agonistes, and Hejrwood in his Iron Age, 1632 : — 
' ' peruse his armour, 

The diht's still in the vantbrace.* 
^ Be yon to my present purpose what time is in respect of all 
other schemes, viz. a ripener and bringer of them to maturity. 
^ Thus in the Rape of Lncrece : — 

' How will thy shame be seeded in thine age. 
When thus thy vices bud before thy spring.' 


Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil, 
To overbulk us all. 

Nest. Well, and liow ? 

Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hector 
However it is spread in general name, 
Relates ifi purpose only to Achilles. 

N&st, The purpose is perspicuous even as sub- 
Whose grossness little characters sum up'^: 
And in the publication make no strain ^^, 
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren 
As banks qf Libya, — ^though Apollo knows, 
Tis dry enough, — ^will with great speed of judgment, 
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose 
Pointing on him. 

Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think you ? 

Neat. Yes, 

It is most meet; Whom may you else oppose. 
That can from Hector bring those honours off, 
If not Achilles ? Though't be a spcnrtfid combat, 
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells; 
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute 
With their fin'st palate : And trust to me, Ulysses, 
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd 
In this wild action : for the success, 

^ ' The m^eoA 19 as plain ajad palpable as ayhstancef and it is 
to be colleoted from small circumstances, as a gross body is made 
sp of many small parts.' This is the scope of Warbarton's ex- 
planation, to which I incline. Steevens says that ' substance \n 
estate, the ralne of which is ascertained by the use of smaU 
characters f i. e. numerals : grossness is the gross sitm, 

*^ Make no difficulty, no doubt, when this duel comes to be 
proclaimed, bat that Achilles, dnil fts he is, will discover the 
drift of it. Tbas in a sabseqnent scene Ulysses s&ys : — 

' I do not strain at the positi^on. 
It is familiar.' 

348 TR6iLtS AND ACT 1* 

Although {particular^ shall give a scantling ^^ 

Of good or bad unto the general; 

And in such indexes, although small pricks ^^ 

To their subsequent volumes^ there' is seen 

The baby figure of the giant mass 

Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd, 

He, that meets Hector ^ issues from our choice : 

And choice, being mutual act of all our souls. 

Makes merit her election ; and doth boil^ 

As 'twere from forth us all, a man distilFd 

Out of our virtues ; Who miscarrying. 

What heart receives from hence a conquering part^ 

To steel a strong opinion to themselves ? 

Which entertained, limbs are his instruments, 

In no less working, than are swOrds and bows 

Directive by the limbs. 

Ulyss, Give pardon to my speech; — 
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector* 
Let uSj like merchants^ show our foulest wares^ 
And think, perchance^ they'll sell ; if not, 
The lustre of the better shall exceed, 
By showing the worse first**. Do not consenty 
That ever Hector and Achilles meet; 
For both our honour and our shame, in this, 
Are dogged with two strange followers* 

*^ A aeantUng is a measure, a proportion. ' When the tion*^ 
skin will not suffice, we must add a sctmtUag of the fox's.' Mtm- 
taigne*8 Essays^ by Florioy 1603. 

^ i.e. small points compared with the rolvmes. IndexeA. 
were formerly often prefixed to books* ' 
** The folio reads : — 

' The lastre of the better, yet to shono 
Shall show the better,* 

Bat as the quarto copy of the play is generally more correct than 
the folio, it has been followed. Mai one thinks that some arbi- 
trary alterations have beefn made in the text of this play by th« 
editors of the folio. 

SC. nt. CkESSIDA. 349 

Nest, I see thera not with my old eyes ; what are 

Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from Hector ^ 
Were he not proud, we all should share with him : 
But' he already is too insolent; 
And we were better parch iA Africk sun. 
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 
Should he 'scape Hector fair : if he were foiPd, 
Why, then we did our main opinion^ crush 
In taint of our best man. No, make a lottery ; 
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
The sort*^ to fight with Hector: Among ourselves, 
Give him allowance for the better man. 
For that will physick the great Myrmidon, 
Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall 
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. 
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off^^^ . 
Well dress him up in voices ; If he fail, 

^ Opifitofi for estimation or rqmtation. See King Henry IV« 
Part I. Act V. Sc. iy. p. 242. The word occors before in thi» 
BCeoe, in the same sense : — 

* Yet iu the trial much opinion dwells.' 
^ Lot. Sort, Fr, mrSf Lat. Thns Lydgate : — 
' Of sorte also, and divynation.' 

^"^ Shakspeare, misled by The^Bestrnction of Troy, appears to 
have confounded Ajax Telamonins with Ajax OileuSy for in that 
book the latter is called simply Ajax, as the more eminent of the 
two. ' Ajax was of a hoge stature, great and large in the shoul- 
ders, great armes, and always was well clothed, and very richly, 
and was of no great enterprise, and spakd very quicke.' Lydgate 
describes him as — 

* High of stature, and boystrons in a pres,. 

And of his speech rude, and rechtes. 

Full tnany a word in ydel hym asterte. 

And but a cowai:d was he of his herte.' 
Harington too, in the prologue to his witty Metamorphosis of 
Ajax, 1596, represents him as ' strong, heady, boisterous, and a 
terrible fighting fellow, but neither wise, learned, staide, noi* 
poUiticke.' The thirteenth book of Ovid's Metamorphosis, hf^ 
Golding, may also have been consulted. 



Yet go we under our opinion^ still 
That we have better meo. But^ hit or miss. 
Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, — 
Ajax, employ'd, plucks down Achilles' plumes. 

Nest* Ulysses, 
Now I begin to relish thy advice : 
And I will give a taste of it forthwith 
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight. 
Two curs shall tame each other : Pride alone 
Must tarre^ the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone. 



SCENE I. Another part of the Grecian Campy, 

Enter Ajax and Thersites. 
Ajax. Thersites,' 

Ther. Agamemnon — how if he had boils? full, 
all over, generally ? 

Ajax. Thersites, — 

7%er. And those boils did run ? — ^Say so, — did 
not the general run then ? were not that a botchy 

Ajax, Dog, 

Ther. Then would come some matter from him ; 
I see none now. 

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolfs son, canst thou not hear? 
Feel then. [Strikes him, 

^ See note 45. 

^ i. e. urge, stimnlate, or set the mastiffs on. See King John, 
Act iv. Sc. 1. 

' This play is not divided into acts in anj of the original 


Ther. The plague of Greece' upon thee, thou 
mongrel beef-witted lord^! 

Ajax, Speak then, thou unsalted leaven ^, speak ! 
I will beat thee into handsomeness. 

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holi- 
ness: but, I think, thy horse will sooner con an 
oration, than thou learn a prayer without book. 
Thou canst strike, canst thou? a red murrain^ o*thy 
jade's tricks ! 

Ajax. Toads^stool, learn me the proclamation. 

Ther. Dost thou think, I have no sense^ thou 
strikest me thus? 

Ajax. The proclamation ><-* 

Ther, Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. 

Ajax, Do not, porcupine, do not; my fingers itch. 

Ther, I would, thou didst itch from head to foot, 
and I had the scratching of thee ; I would make 
thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou 
art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow as 

Ajax* I say, the proclamation, 

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on 
Achilles ; and thou art as full of envy at his great- 
ness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that 
thou barkest at him. 

Ajax, Mistress Thersites ! 

3 Alluding to the plague sent by ApoUo on the Grecian army. 

^ He calls Ajax fMngrelt on acconot of his father being a 
Grecian and his mother a Trojan. Sir Andrew Agnecheek 
says, in Twelfth Night, ' I am a great eater of heefj and I believe 
that does harm to my vnt* 

^ The folio has ' thou vohini^ai leaven/ a corruption ondonbt- 
edly of tnnem^dst ov-mnmedst, i. e« mouldy leaven. Thou un- 
salted leaven, is as much as to say ' thoa foolish lump,* Thus 
Baret : — ' Unsavoary, foolish, without smacke of salt ; without 
wisdome, that hath no grace, that hath no pleasant facion in 
wordes or gesture ; that no man can take pleasure in. Jnsulstts,* 

^ In The Tempest, Caliban says, * The redpktgve rid you.* 


Ther. Thou sihouldst strike him. 

Ajax. Cobloaf^! 

J%er. He would pun^ thee into shivers with hia 
'» fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. 
. Ajcu* You whoreson cur ! [Beating him^ 

' Ther* Do, dq. 

Ajax. Thou stool for a witch ! 
• 7%er, Ay, do dq ; thou sodden-witted lord ! thou 
hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows: 
an assinico^ may tutor thee: Thou scurvy valiant 
ass ! thou art here put to thrash Trojans ; and thou 
art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a 
Barbarian slave. If thou use^ to beat me, I will 

^ Cqbloaf isi perhaps equivalent to t7/ 8h<q>en hmp. Minsheu 
says, a cob-loaf is a little loaf made with a roond head, soch as 
cob irons which support the fire/ The misshapen head of Ther- 
sites should be remembered, which mav be what is here alladed 
to :>-' Homer declaryng a very foolyshe and an haskarde fellow 
under the person of Ther^ytes, sayth, that he was streyte in the 
shnlders, and cop-heeded lyke a gygge, and thyn heryd, full of 
scorfe and scalle.' HomuuCs Vulgaria, 1519, fo. 31. 

"^ i. e. pound ; still in use provincially. The original word in 
Saxon is punian: it is used in Holland's translation of Plinyy 
b. xxTiii. c. xii. |mnfi«tf altogether, and reduced into a liniment. 
So in Cogan's Haven of Health, * to punne barley.' It is related 
pf a Staffordshire servant of Miss Seward, that hearing his mi»i 
tress knock with her foot to call up her attendant, he said ' Hark \ 
madam is punning J In the first edition of Florio's Italian Dic- 
tionary, pestare is to pound} but in the second edition, and in 
Torriano, it is to punne or pun. I,t is remarkable ih^i pestare is. 
used figuratively for to hangt to hehaste, 

^ The commentators changed this word to asMegfo, and then 
erroneously affirm it to be Portuguese. It is evidently from 
the Spanish cuntco, a young or little ass ; a word indeed entirely 
similar in sound, and seems to have been adopted into our lan^ 
guage to signify a sMy ass, a stiqnd fellow. The Italians and 
French have several kindred terms with the same meanings 
Shakspeare may have used the word for an €tss drivery confound- 
ing it with asinaccio or asinaio ; like the French gros-asni^, used 
to denote the most gross stupidity or folly. 

^ i. e. 'if yon accustom yourself, or make ii a practice to 
beat me^' 


begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches, 
thou thing of no bowel»9 thou ! 

Ajax. You dog ! 

Ther. You scurvy lord ! 

Ajax, You cur! [Beatmg Mm, 

Ther. Mars bis idiot! do, rudeness ; do, camel; 
do, do. 

Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 

AcML Why, how now, Ajax ? yrherefore do yo» 
How now. Thelites? whafs Uie matter, man? 

Ther. You see him there, do you? 

Achil. Ay ; what's the matter ? 

Ther. Nay, look upon him. 

AckiL So I do; What's the matter? 

Ther. Nay, but regard him well. 

Achil. Well, why I do so. 

JTier. But yet you look net well upon him : for, 
whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. 

AchiL I know ihi&t, fool. 

Ther, Ay, but lih»t fool knows not himself. 

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 

Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit )ie 
utters ! his evasions have ears thus long. I have 
bobbed his brain, more than he has beat my bones : 
I will buy nine sparrows' for a penny, and his pia \ 
matetr^^ is not wortil the ninth part of a sparrow. 
This, lord Achilles, Ajax, — who wears his wit in 
his belly, and his guts in his head, — I^l tell you 
what I say of him. 

AchU. What? 

Ther. I say, this Ajax 

10 See vol. i. p. 313. 

H H2 


. Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 

[Ajax offers ta strike him, Achilles 

Ther, Has not so much wit- 

Achil. Nay, I must hold you. 

Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle, for 
whom he comes to fight. 

Achil. Peace, fool ! 

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the 
fool will not: he there; that he; look you there^ 

Ajcuc. O thou damned cur ! I shall 

Ach,il. Will you set your wit to a fool's ? 

Titer. No, I warrant you : for a fool's will shame it. 

Patr. Good words, Thersites. 

Achil, What's the quarrel ? 

Ajax. I bade the^ vile owl, go learn me the tenour 
of the proclamation, and he rails upon me. . 

Ther. I serve thee not. 

Ajupc. Well, go to, go to. 

Ther. I serve here voluntary ^^. 

Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas 
not voluntary; no man is beaten voluntary.; Ajax 
was here the voluntary, and you as under an im- 

, JTier. Even so? — a great deal of your wit too» 
lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector 
shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of 
your brains ^^ ; a' were as good crack a fusty uutk 
with no kernel. 

Achil. What, with me too, Thersites? 

Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, — ^whose 
wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on 

*^ Volnntarilj. Another instance of an adjectiTe used ad- 

" The same thought occars in Cymbeline :— 

* '^ -r- Not Hercales 

Coald have knocked out his brains, for he had none.' 

SC. I. CRBSSIDA.^ ' 365 

their toes, — yoke you like draught oxen, and make 
you plough up the wars. 

AchiL What, what? 

Ther, Yes, good sooth ; To, Achilles ! to, Ajax ! 

Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. 

Ther. Tis no matter; I shall speak as much as 
thou, afterwards. 

Pair, No more words^ Thersites ; peace. 

JTter. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach ^^ 
bids me, shall I ? 

AchiL There's for you, Patroclus. 

Tlier, I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, ere 
I come any more to your tents ; I will keep where 
there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fool&. 


Pair. A good riddance. 

AchiL Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through all 
our host : 
That Hector, by the first hour of the sun. 
Will, with a trumpet,, 'twixt our tents and Troy, 
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms, 
That hath, a stomach; and such a one, that dare 
Maintain — I. know not what; 'tis trash: Farewell. 

Ajax, Farewell. Who shall answer him? 

A chiL I know not, it is put to lottery : otherwise, 
He knew his man. 

Ajax. O, meaning you;— I'll go learn more of it. 


'^ Both the old copies read broochy which may be right ; for 
we find monile and holla in the dictionaries interpreted ' a bosse, 
an hart ; a brooch, or Jewell of a rqand oompasse to hang about 
ones neck** It has been observed that Thersites afterwards calls 
Patroclns Achilles's nutle harlot, ' and his masculine whore. The 
term brach was suggested by Rowe, and which later editors have 
continoed in the text, has been already eiiplained, it is ' a man- 
nerly name for all hound-bitches,* 


Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace, 

Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, and 

Helenvs. * 

Pri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent. 
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks ; 
Deliver Helen, and all damage else — 
As honour, loss of time, travel, expense. 
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is eonmm^d 
In hot digestion of this cormorant war. 
Shall be struck off: — Hector, what say you to't ? 

Hect. Though no man lesser fears the Greeks 
than I, 
As far as toucheth my particular, yet. 
Dread Priam, 

There is no lady of more softer bowels, 
Afore spungy to suck in the sense of fear. 
More ready to cry out — Who knows what follows^? 
Than Hector is : The wound of peace is surety. 
Surety securer but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go : 
Since the first sword was drawn about this question. 
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes ^,^ 
Hath been as dear as Helen ; I mean, of ours : 
If we have lost so many tenths of ours. 
To guard a thing not ours; not worth to us. 
Had it our name, the value of one ten; 
What merit's in that reason, which denies 
The yielding of her up? 

' Who knows what ill conseqaenoe»may follow from porsoiiig 
this or that course ? 

^ Disme is properly tetUlu or tjthes, bat dumes is here ased 
for tens. 


)SC. II. CRESSIDA;. ^57 

Tro. Fye, fye, my brother ! 

Weigh you the worth and honour of a king. 
So great as our dread father^ in a scale 
Of common ounces? will you with counters sum 
The past-proportion of his infinite ^ ? 
And buckle in a waist most fathomless^ 
With spans and inches so diminutive 
As fears and reasons ? fye, for godly shame ! 

Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at 
You are so empty of them, Should not our father 
Bear |;he great s^vay of his affairs with reasons. 
Because your speech hath pone, that tells him so ? 

Tro. You sgre for dreams and slumbers, brother 
, priesj. 
You fur your gloves with reason* Here are your 

reasons : 
You know, an enemy intends you harm ; 
You know, a sword employed is perilous. 
And reason flies the object of all harm ; 
Who marvels then, when Helenus beholds 
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
The very wi^gs of reason to his heels ; 
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
Or like a star disorb'd ?^-Nay , if we talk of reason. 
Let's shut our gates, and sleep : Manhood and honour 
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their 

With this crammM reason : reason and respect^ 
Make livers pale, aud lustihood deject. 

^ i. e. th^t greatoess to which no measnre bears any pro- 

* u e. consideration, regard to consequences. Thns in The 
Rape of Lacrece : — 

' The childish fear avannt ! debating die ! 
Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age ! — 
Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage.' 
And in Timon of Athens : — 

' The icy precepts of respect,' 


Heet. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost 
The holding. 

Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued ? 

Hect. But value dwells not in particular will ; 
It holds his estimate and dignity 
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
As in the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry, 
To make the service greater than the god ; 
And the will dotes, that is attributive 
To what infectiously itself affects *, 
Without som^ image of the affected merit. 

Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election 
Is led on in the conduct of my will ^ ; 
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears. 
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
Of will and judgment: How may I avoid. 
Although my will distaste what it elected. 
The wif^ I chose ? t^ere can be no evasion 
To blench 7 from this, and to stand firm by honour : 
We turn not back the silkd upon the merchant. 
When we have, soil'd them ; nor the remainder viands 
We do not throw in unrespective sieve ®, 
Because we now are full. It was thought meet, 

^ ' The will dotes that attfibutM or ^res the qaalities which 
it affeets :' that first oaase excellence, and then admires it. Tht 
folio reads incUnahle, the qnarto attribuHve. 

^ i. e. nnder the guidance of my will. 

7 See p. 318, note 4*. 

® That is, onto a common wider. It is well known that skvea 
and half sieves are baskets, to be met with in every quarter of 
Covent Garden : and httskets lined with tin are still employed as 
voiAers, In the former of these senses sieve is ased in The Wits, 
by Sir W. Darenant : — 

* — apple-wives 
That wrangle for a sieve,^ 

Dr. Farmer says, that in some coanties the baskets nsed for 
carrying out dirt, &c. are called neves. The folio copy reads by 
mistake ' anrespective same,* 

SC; li. CRESSIDA. 359 

Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks : 
Your breath with full consent bellied hts sails ; 
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce. 
And did him service ! he touched the ports desir'd; 
And, for an old aunt^, whom the Greeks held captive. 
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh- 
Wrinkles Apollo's^ and makes pale the morning. 
Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: 
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl. 
Whose price hath launched above a thousand ships, ' 
And tum'd erown'd kings to merchants. 
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went 
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd — Go, go), 
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize, 
(As you must needs, for you. all clapp'd your hands. 
And cry'd — Inestimable!) why do you now 
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate ; 
And do a deed that fortune never did ^^, . 
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd 
Richer thaa sea and land? O theft most base ; 
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep ! 
But, thievea> unworthy of a thing so stolen. 
That in their country did tiaem that disgrace. 
We fear to warrant in our native place ! 

Cos. [ WUkin.] Cry, Trojans, cry ! 

PH. What noise ? what shriek is this ? 

' Tro. 'TIS our mad sister, I do know her voice. 

Cos. [ Within.] Cry, Trojans ! 

Hect. It is Cassandra. 


^ Priam's sister, Hesione. 

*^ Fortnne was never so nnjnst and mutable as to rate a thing 
on one day above all price, and on the next to set no estimation 
whatsoever npon it. You are doing what fortune, inconstant as 
she is, never did. 


Enter Cassandra, raving*. 

Cos, Cry, Troj ans, cry ! tend me ten thousand eyes ^ 
And I will fill them with prophetick tears. 

Hect, Peace, sister, peace. 

Cos. Virgins and boys, *mid-age and wrinkled 
elders ^^, 
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry. 
Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes 
A moiety of that mass of moan* to come. 
Cry, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears f- 
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand ^^ ; 
Our firebrand brother, Paris, bums> us all ^^. 
Cry, Trojans, cry ! a Helen, and a woe : 
dy> cry ! Troy bums, or else let Helen go. [Exit.- 

Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high 
Of divination in our sister work 
Some touches of remorse ? or is your blood 
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason, 
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause. 
Can qualify liie same ? 

TVo. Why, brother Hector, 

We may not think the justness of each act 
Such and no other thaa event doth form it ; 
Nor once deject the courage of our minds 
Because Cassandra's mad : her brainsick raptures 
Cannot distaste^* the goodness of a quarrel, 

^^ The quarto thus. The folio readt ' wrinkled old,' which 
RiUon thinks should be ' wrinkled eld,* Shakspeare has ' idle 
headed eld,' and ' palsied eld' in other places. 

*^ See Act i. Sc. 1, note 9. This line brings to mind one io 
the second book of the Mneid : — 

' Trojaque nunc stares, Priamique arx alta maneres.' 

'^ Hecuba, when pregnant with Paris, dreamed she should be 
.delivered of a burning torch. — ^neid, x. 705. 
^* Corrupt, change to a worse state. 

SC. il. CRESSIDA. 301' 

Which hath our several honours all engag'ct 
To make it gracious ^*. For my private part, 
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons : 
And Jove forbid, there should be done amongst us^ 
Such things as might offend the weakest spleen 
To fight for and maintain ! 

Par, Else might the world convince ^^ of levity 
As well my undertakings, as your counsels : 
But I attest the gods, your full consent ^^ 
Gave wings to my propension, and cut off 
All fears attending on so dire a project. 
For what, alas ! can. these my single arms? 
What propugnation is in one man's valour, 
To stand die push and enmity of those 
This quarrel would excite ? Yet I protest, 
Were I alone to pass the difficulties. 
And had as ample power as I have will, 
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done. 
Nor faint in the pursuit. 

Pri, Paris, you speak 

Like one besotted on your sweet delights : 
Yoii have the honey still, but these the gall ; 
So to be valiant, is no praise at all. 

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself 
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it; 
But I would have the soil of her fair rape ^^ 
Wip'd off, in honourable keeping her. 
What treason were it to the ransaek'd queen, 

'^ i. e. to make it graceful^ \a grdce it, to set it off. Vide vol. u 
p. 148, note 22. 

*^ To convince and to convict were synonymons with our aiices> 
tor8. The word was also nsed for to overconut and will gene-' 
rally be foand in Shakspeare with that signification. See Buret's 
Alvearies C. 1244. 

'7 Consent is agreement^ accord^ apprchation, 

^^ Rape and ravishment anciently signified only seizing or car- 
rying away. Indeed the Rape of Helen is merely Raptus Helenas ^ 
Without any idea of personal viblence. 

VOL. VII. i I 


Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me. 

Now to deliver her possession up, 

On terms of base compulsion? Can it be, 

That so degenerate a strain as this 

Should once set footing in your generous bosoms? 

There's not the meanest spirit on our party, 

Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw. 

When Helen is defended; nor none so noble. 

Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd. 

Where Helen is the subject: then, I say. 

Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well. 

The world^s large spaces cannot parallel. 

Hect, Paris, and Troilus, you have both said well : 
And on the cause and question now in hand 
Have glo2'd^9^ — but superficially; not much 
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle^ thought 

*' Ghz'd here means commented. See King Henrjr V. Act i. 
So. 2, p. 403, note 7. 

^ We may be amnsed at Hector's meDtion of Aristotle, bat 
* Let it be remembered (sajs Steevens) as often as Shak8{>eare*8 
anachronisms occur, that errors in computing time were y^'j 
frequent in those ancient romances which seem to have formed 
the greater part of his library.' These old writers perhaps did 
not think an attention to chronology any part of the difty of n 
writer of works of fiction. Indeed one of the most fertile and 
distinguished writers of the present age, in his admirable histori- 
cal novels, blends circumstances of various periods, and exhibits 
persons on the sti^e of action together who were not contempo- 
raries ; yet his language, manners, and costume are in admirable 
keeping. Steevens has pointed out two absurd instances of 
anachronism which are very amusing. In the Dialogue of Crea^ 
tures Moralysed, blk. 1. (a book which Shakspeare probaUy 
saw) we find God Almighty quoting Cato. And in one of the 
Chester Mysteries (^Deluvium Noe, in Mr. Markland's very ele- 
gant specimen) during an altercation between Noah and his 
wife, the lady swears by Christ and St John. Statius is not 
entirely exempt from such mistakes. In the fifth book of the 
Thebaid, Amphiarus talks of the fates of Nestor and Priam, 
neither of whom died till long after him. The reader will do 
well to read Mr. Deuce's sensible observations on Shakspeare's 
anachronisms, in which the poet is well defended, and the prac- 
tice shown to be universal in the writers of his age. Illuslra- 
tionSf vol. ii. p. 281. 


Udfit to hear moral philosophy : 

The reaaonsy you allege, do more conduce 

To the hot passion of distemper'd blood. 

Than to make up a free determination 

Twixtri^t and wrong; For pleasure, and revenge. 

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 

Of any true decision. Nature craves, 

All dues be rendered to their owners ; Now 

What nearer debt in all humanity. 

Than wife is to the husband ? if this law 

Of nature be corrupted through affection ; 

And that great minds, of ^^ partial indulgence 

To their benumbed wills, resist the same ; 

There b a law in each well order'd nation. 

To curb those* raging appetites that are 

Most disobedient and refractory. 

If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, — 

As it is known she is, — these moral laws 

Of nature, and of nations, speak aloud 

To have her back retum'd : Thus to persist 

In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong. 

But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion 

Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ertheless. 

My spritely brethren, I propend^^ to you 

In resolution to keep Helen still; 

For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance 

Upon our joint and several dignities. 

Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our design : 
Were it not glory that we more affected 
Than the performance of our heaving spleens, 
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood 
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector, 
She is a theme of honour and renown ; 
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ; 

^* Through« ^ Incline to, as a question of honoor. 


Whose present courage may beat down our foes^ 
And fame, in time to come, canonize ui^: 
For, I pre&ume, brave Hector would not lose 
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory. 
As smiles upon the forehead of this action, 
For the wide world's revenue. 

Hect. I am yours. 

You valiant offspring of great Priamus. — 
I have a roisting^ challenge sent amongst 
The dull and factious nobles ^f the Greeks, 
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits ; 
I was ;adv6rtis'd, their great general slept. 
Whilst emulation ^^ in the army crept; 
This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt, 

The Grecian Camp, Before Achilles' Tent, 

Enter The]EISItes. 

Ther, How now, Thersites? what, lost in the 
labyrinth of thy fury? Shall the elephant Ajax carry 
it thus ? he beats me, and I rail at him : O worthy 
satisfaction ! 'would, it were otherwise ; that I could 

^^ ' The hope of being registered as a saint is rather out of its 
place at so early a period as this of the Trojan war/ sajs Stee- 
vens. Jt is not so meant, the expression mast not be taken littf- 
rally ; it merely means be inscribed among the heroes of demigodsj 
* Ascribi naminibas' is rendered by old translators ' tp be canon- 
ized, or made a ^aint.' 

^ Blnstering. 

^ Etn,idfltion is here put for envious rivi^r y,f actions eonte9^um» 
It is generally used by Shakspeare in this sense : the reason will 
appear from the following definition : — ' To have enyie to acme 
rnfui^ to be angry with another man which hath that which we 
ooyet to have, to envy at that which another man hath, to stadie, 
indevonr, and travaile to dooe as well as another: emulatio is 
such kinde of envy J Ballokar defines, it ' envy ; an earnest de- 
sire to do as another doth/ See King- Henry VI. Part I. Aotiy, 
Sc. 4. 


beat him, whilst he railed at me : 'Sfoot, I'll learn 
to conjure and raise devib, but I'll see some issue 
of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles^ 
— a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these 
two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall 
of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of 
Olympus, forget that thou art Jove the king of 
gods ; and. Mercury, lose all the serpentine crafk 
of thy Caduceus^ ; if ye take not that little little 
less-tiian-little wit from themthat they have ! which 
short-armed ignorance itself knows is so abundant 
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly 
from a spider, without drawing their massy irons, and 
cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the 
whole camp ! or, rather, the bone-ache^ ! for that, 
methinks, is the curse dependant on those that war 
for a placket. I have said my prayers ; and devil, 
envy, say Amen. What, ho ! my lord Achilles ! 

Enter Patroclus. 

Patr. Who's there ? Thersites ? Good Thersites, 
come in and rail. 

Ther, If I could have remembered a gijlt coun- 
terfeit^, thou wouldest not have slipped out of vgj 

1 The wand of Mercury is wreathed with serpents. So Mar- 
tial, lib. yii. epig. Ixxiy. : — 

' Cyllenes ceelique decus ! facande minister 
Aurea cui torto virga dracone viret.' 
' In the qaarto ' the Neapolitan bone-ache !' 
' To understand this joke it should be known that wunterfeit 
and sl^ were synonymous : — ' And therefore be went out and 
got him certain slipSt which are counterfeit pieces of money, be- 
ing brasse, and covered oyer with silver, which the common 
people call slqps,* Crreene's Thieves faUi$tg out, true Men come by 
their (roods. 

* Is he not fond then which a slip receives 

For current money ? She which thee deceaves 

With copper gilt is but a sUpJ Skialetheia, 1598. 

Mercutio plays upon the words in Romeo and Juliet, Act ii* 

I I2 



eoiitemplation : but it is no matter; Thyself upon' 
thyself ! The common curse of mankind, folly and 
ignorance, be thine in great revenue ! heaven bless 
thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near 
thee ! Let thy blood * be thy direction till thy death ! 
then if she, that lays thee out, says — thou art a 
fair corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she 
never shrouded any but lazars. Amen. — Where's 

P(ttr, What, art thou devout? wast thou in 

Ther, Ay; The heavens hear me ! 

Snter Achilles. 

, AchiL Who's there? 

Pair: Thersites, my lord. / 
. AchiL Where, where ?^-Art thou come ? Why, 
my cheese, my digestion,, why hast thou not served 
thyself in to my table so many meals? Come; what's 

Ther. Thy commander, Achilles ; — ^Then tell me, 
Patroclus, what's Achilles? 

Pair, Thy lord, Thersites ; Then tell me, I pray 
thee, what's thyself? 

Ther, Thy knower, Patroclus ; Then tell me, Pa- 
troclus, what art thou ? 

Patr. Thou mayest tell, that knowest. 

AchiL O, tell, tell. 

Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Agamem- 
non cbmmands Achilles ; Achilles is my lord ; I am 
Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus is a fool ^. 

Sc. 4. And Ben Johnson, in his Every Man in his Humour and 
Magnetic Lady. Indeed it is a fertile sonrce of equivoqae to 
our old writers. See Dodsley's Old Plays, by Reed, yoI. ▼. p. 

* Thy blood means thy pdssionsy thy natural propensities. See 
^ol. ii. p. 139, note 11, and p. 154, note 10. 

^ The four next speeches are not in the qoarto. 


Patr, You rascal ! 

Ther, Peace, fool ; I have not done* 

Achil. He is a privileged man. — Proceed, Ther- 

Ther, Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool : 
Thersites is a fool ; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is 
a fool. 

Achil, Derive this; come. 

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command 
Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be coi^manded of 
Agamemnon; Thersites is a fool to serve such a 
fool ; and Patroclu^ is a fool positive^. 

Patr. Why am I a fool? 

7^^. Make that demand of the prover. — It suffices 
me, thou art. Look you, who comes here ! 

Entet Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, Dio^ 

MEDES, and Ajax. 

Achil. Patroclus, 111 speak with nobody : — Come 
in with me, Thersites. [Escit. 

Ther. Here is such patchery, such juggling, and 
such knavery ! all the argument is, a cuckold, and a 
whore ; a good quarrel, to draw emulous^ factions, 
and blieed to death upon ! Now the dry serpigo^ on 
the subject ! and war, and lechery, confound all ! 


Agam. Where is Achilles ? 

Pair. Within his tent; but ill disposed, my lord. 

Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are here. 
He shent^ our messengers ; and we lay by 
Our appertainments, visiting of him : 

^ The grammatical allusion is still pursued, th« first degree of 
.comparison is here alluded to. 

7 See Act ii. Sc. 2, note 25. 

* The serpigo is a kind of tetter. See yol. i. p. 50, note 7. 

^ Rehvkedf reprimanded. See Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. ii. note th« 
last. Instead of shei^ the fpUo reads sent : the quarto, saie^ 


Let him be told so ; lest, perchance, he think 
We dare not move the questipn of our place. 
Or know not what we are. 

Pair. I shall say so to him. 


Ufyss. We saw him at the opening of his tent; 
He is not sick. 

Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart : you 
may call it melancholy, if you will faYOur the man; 
but, by my head, 'tis pride: But why, why? let 
him show us a cause. — A word, my lard. 

[Tabes Agamemnon aside. 

Nest, What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ? 

Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him. 

Nest. Who? Theraites? 

Ulyss. He. 

Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost 
his argument. 

Ulyss. No'; you see he is his argument, that has 
his argument; Achilles. 

iVes^.AU the better; their fraction is more our 
wish, than their £action: But it was a strong com- 
posure^^, a fool could disunite. 

Ubfss. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly 
may easily untie. Here comes Patroclus. 

Re-enter Patroclus. 

Nest. No Achilles with him. 

Ufyss. The elephant hath joints, hut noae for 
courtesy: his legs are legs for necessity, net for 
flexure ^^. 


'^ The folio reads counsel. 

" It was one of the errors of our old Natural Historj, to assert 
that an elephant, ' being onable to lie down, slept leaning against 
a tree, which the hunters observing, do saw it almost asunder ; 
whereon the beast relying, by the fall of the tree, falls also 
down itself, and is able to rise no more/ Thus in The Dim- 


Pair. Achilles bids me say — ^he is much sorry, 
if any thing more than your sport and pleasure 
Did move your greatness, and this noble state ^^, 
To call upon him ; he hopes, it is no other, 
But, for your health and your digestion sake, 
An after- dinner's breath ^^. 

Agam. Hear you, Patroclus; — 

We are too well acquainted with these answers: 
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, 
Cannot outfly our apprehensions. 
Much attril)ute he hath; and much the reason 
Why we ascribe it to him; yet all his virtues, — 
Not virtuously on his own part beheld, — 
Do, in our eyes, begin to lose their gloss ; 
'Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish. 
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him. 
We come to speak with him : And you shall not sin, 
if you do say — we think him overrproud. 
And under-honest; in self-assumption greater. 
That in the note of judgment; and worthier than 

Here tend the savage strangeness^^ he puts on; 
Disguise the holy strength of their command. 
And underwrite ^^ in an observing kind 

logaes of Creatures Moralysed, blk 1. before cited : — * The.ole- 
fawnte that bowjth not the knejs.' Thus also in All's jLost bj 
Last, 1633 :— 

« la she pliant? 

Stubborn as an elephanfs leg, no bending in her.' 

*^ This stately train of attending nobles. 

'^ Breath for breathing ; i. e. exercise, relaxation. 

' It is the breathing time of the day with me.' 
^* i, e. attend upon the brutish distant arrogance or rude hough- 
tiness he assumes. Thus in Proverbs, xxi. 8 : — * The way of 
man is froward add strange,* 

*^ To underwrite is synonymous with to subscribe, which is 
. used by Shakspeare in several places for to yield, to submit. 
Thus in King Lear: — 

' You owe me no subscription,* 
And in All's WeU that Eiids Well, Act v. Sc. 3 :— 


His humorous predominance; yea, watch 
His pettish lunes ^^, his ebbs, his flows, as if 
The passage and whole carriage of this action 
Rode on his tide. 6q, tell him this; and add. 
That, if he overbold his price so much. 
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine 
Not portable, lie under this report — 
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war: 
A stirring dwarf we do allowance ^"^ give 
Before a sleeping giant : — ^Tell him so. 

Pair. I shall; and bring his answer presently. 

Agam, In second voice we'll not be satisfied. 
We come to speak with him. — Ulysses, enter. 

[Encit Ulysses. 

Ajax. \f hat is he more than aAQther? 

Agar^. No more tha^i what he thinks he is* 

Ajax. Is he so much? Do you not think, be 
thinks himself a better m^n than I am? 

Agam. No question. 

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say — 
he is? 

Agam. No, noble Ajax ; you are a^ strong, as 
valiant, as wise, no less noble, much more geptie* 
and altogether more tractable. 

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How doth 
pride grow? I know not what pride is. 

Agam. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your 

' I stood engag'd : but when I had subscribed 
To mine own fortune, and infonn'd her folly 
I could not answer/ &c. 
The word ocpnrs again in this sense several times in this play. 
In an observing kind, is in an attentive manner. 
1^ Fitful lunacies. The quarto reads : — 

' His course (md timCf his ebbs and flows, <md if 
The passage and whole stream of his coifunencefinini 
Rode oq his tide.' 
^7 Allowance is approbation. See vol. i. p. 223, note 80, 


virtues the ^oiirer. He that is proud, eats up him- 
self: pride is his own glass, his own trunipet, his 
own chronicle : and whatever praises itself but in 
the deed, devours the deed in die praise^. 

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the en- 
gendering of toads ^^. 

Nest, And yet he loves himself: Is it not stf ange ? 


Re-enter Ulysses. 

Ulyss, Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 

Agam, What's his excuse ? 

Uhfss, He doth rely on none ; 

But carries on the stream of his dispose. 
Without observance or respect of any, 
In will peculiar and in self-admission. 

Agam, Why will he not, upon our fair request, 
TJntent his person, and share the air with us ? 

Ulyss. Things small as notiiing, for request's sake 
He makes important : Possessed he is widi greatness ; 
And speaks not' to himself, bnt with a pride 
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth 
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse, 
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts, 
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages ^, 

1* We have this sentiment before in Act i. Sc. 3, p. 344 : — 
' The worthiness of praise distains his worth. 
If that the prats'd himself the praise bring forth/ 

Malone has cited a passage from Coriolanas in both instances, 
which has nothing in it of similar sentiment, and which he could 
neither compiefaetad nor explain. See Coriolanns, Activ. Sc. 7. 
^ See Goldsmith's History of the Earth and Animated Nature, 
vol. TiL p. 92, 93. 

^ ' The geniiu and the mortal instruments 
Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
Like to a little kingdom^ suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection; '-^/uliW C'€Bsar 


And batters down himsielf : What should I say? 
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens ^^ of it 
Cry — No recovery. 

Agam» Let Ajax go to him.—. 

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent : 
Tis said^ he holds you well: and will be led^ 
At your request, a little from himself. 

: Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so ! 
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
When they go from Achilles ; Shall the proud lord^ 
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam^^; 
And never suffers matter of the world 
Enter his thoughts,^ — save such as do revolve 
And ruminate himself,-^--shall he be worshipp'd 
Of that we hold an idol more than he? 
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd ;■ 
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit. 
As amply titled as Achilles is, 
By going to Achilles : 
That were to enlaird his fat-afread)^ pride*; 
And add more coals to Cancer ^^, when he burn^ 
With entertaining great Hyperion. 
This lord go to him I Jupiter forbid, 
And say. iA thunder— *AcAt//es, go to hint. 

Nest, O, this is well; he rubs the vein of him; 


^^ Allnding to the decisive spots appearing on those infected 
with the plague. ' Spots of a dark complexion, usually called 
tokenSj and lookedon as the pledges or forewarnings ofdeaihj'- — ^^ 
Hodges on the Plague, 

'Now like the fearful tokens of the plague. 
Are mere forerunners' of their ends.' 

Beaumont and Fletcher^s VaientiniaM, 
^ Seam is fat. The grease, fatyor tallow of any animal; but 
chiefly applied to that of a hog. 

^ The sign in the zodiac, into which the sun enters June 21. 
* And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze.' 


SC. in. CRESSIDA. 375 

Dio, And how his silence drinks up this applause ! 

Ajojx. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'Upash^ 
Over the face. 

Agam. O, no, you shall not go. 

Ajax^ An he be proud with me, I'll pheeze^^ his 
Let me go to him. 

Ulyss, Not for the worth that hangs upon our 

Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow ! 

NesL How he describes 

Himself] [Aside, 

Ajax, "Can he not be sociable? 
Ulyss. The raven 

Chides blackness. [Aside, 

Ajax, ' I will let his humours blood ^« 

Agam. He'll be the physician, that should be the 
patient. [Aside, 

Ajax, An all men 
Were o'my mind, — 

Ulyss, IV it would be out of fashion. 


^ Scjphas ei impactus est. Baret. 

* He was poshed over the pate with a pot/ 
The vrord is used twice by Massinger in his Virgin Martyr; and 
Mr. Gifford has adduced an instanioe from Dryden; he jnfltly 
obselWes, it is to be regretted that the word is now obsolete, as 
we hare none that can adequately supply its place. To dash 
signifying to throw one thing with violence against another ; to 
p€uh is to strike a thing with such force as to orushit to piecesi. 

^ See note on the Induction to The Taming of the Shrew. 

* Not for the value of for which we are fighting. 

^ There is a curious collection of Epigrams, Satires, &c. 
printed in 1600, with this quaint title :— ' The Letljng of Ha- 
mours Blood in the Head Vaine.' A small reimpression wan 
made at Edinburgh in 1815, with a preface and notes, by Sir 
Walter Scott. 



Ajax, He should not bear it so, 
He skould eat swords first; Shall pride carry it? 

iVete. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Ande. 

Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. 


Ajax. Ill knead him, I will make him su{if^ : — 

Nest, He's not yet tliorough warn: force^ him 
with praises : 
Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Aside. 

Uly». My lord, you feed too much on tl^ dis- 
like. [To Agamsmnon. 

Nest, O noble general, do not do so. 

IHo. Tou must prepare to fight without Achilles. 

Uhfss, Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm. 
Here is a man-^Bui 'tis before his face ; 
I will bo silent* 

Nettm Wherefore should you so? 

He UHot emnlouft^^, as Achilles is. 

Vlys9. Knew the whole world, lut is as valiant. 

Ajmaa, A whoreson dog, that shall palter^ thus 
with us ! 
I would, he were a Trojan ! 

Nest, What a vice 

Were it in Ajax now 

Ulyss, If he were proud? 

Dio, Or covetous of praise? 

Ulffts, Ay, or surly borne ? 

IHa, Or strange, or self-affected ? 

C%«s. Thank the heavei^, lord, thou art of sweet 
Gonposure ; 
Praise him that got thee, she^ that gare thee suck : . 
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 

* Fff Uai, that is «t«/ bin : fardr, Fr. In anotkcr place 
of this pUj -mm Lanre * malice forud whh wit«' 

* Se* the prteadiBg scene, note 25, p. 944. 
^ To patter is to *hۤfe^ equivocate. 


Thrice^ain'dy beyofid all eniditian ^^ : 

But he that disciplin'd dij arms to fight. 

Let Mars divide eternity in twain, 

And give him half: and, for thy vigour, 

Bull-bearing Milo his addition ^^ yield 

To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom, 

Which, like a bourn ^^, a pale, a shore, confines 

Thy spacious and dilated parts : Here's Nestor, — 

Instructed by the antiquary times. 

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ; — 

But pardon, father Nestor, were your days 

As green as Ajax', and your brain so tempered. 

You should not have the eminence of him. 

But be as Ajax. 

Ajax. Shall I call you father^? 

Nest, Ay, my good son. 

Dio. Be ruFd by him, Lord Ajax. 

Ulyss, There is no tarrying here ; the hart AcUlles " 

^* The quarto reads :— 

* Thrice fam'd heyond all thy emditioii.' 

^ i. e. yield his tkks, his celebrity for strength. See Act i. 
Sc. 2, note 6. 

^ A houm is a boundary , and sometimes a rivulet^ dividing 
one place froi'i another. As in the line of tiie old ballad Edgar 
sings in Lear, Act iii. Sc. 6 : — 

' Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me.' 
A honrn, or barn, A. S. bajrn, in the north, signifies a brook, or 
rirnlet. Hence the names of many villages, &c. terminate in ^ 

bum. So in Drayton's Polyolbion, Songi. :— y 

* The bourns, the brooks, the becks, the rills, the rivvletB.' 
And in Spenser, Faerie Qneene, b. ii. c. 6 : — 

' My little boate can safely passe this perilous houmeJ 
And Browne, Brit. Past. 1, 4, p. 99, 2d ed.:— - 

' To gild the mutt'ring bournes, and pretty rills.' ^^^ 

** Shak«peare probably had a custom prevalent about ^ ??" 
time in his thoughts. Ben Jonson had many who ca^'^ a ril ^ 
selves his sons. Cotton dedicates his book oil An''', ^ i 
faJtber Walton ; and Ashmole, in his Diary obs^ ^®"®» *'***^** 
Mr. William Backhouse of Swallowfield, in ' 
me to call him father thenceforward.' ' 



Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
To call together all his state of war; 
Fresh kings are come to Troy : To-morrow, 
We must with all our main of power stand fast : 
And here's a lord, — come knights from east to west, 
A^d cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. 

Agam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep : 
Light boats sail swift,, though greater hulks draw^ 
deep. [Exeunt. 


SCENE I. Troy. A Room in Priam's Palace. 

.Enfer Pan DARUS an(£ a Servant. 

Pan. Friend! you! pray you, a word: Do not 
you follow the young Lord Paris? 

Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. 

Pan. You do depend upon him, I mean?- 

Serv, Sir, I do depend upon the lord. 

Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman ; 
I must needs praise him. 

Serv. The lord be praised ! 

Pan. You know me, do you not? 

Serv. /Faith, sir, superficially. 

Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the Lord 

•Serv. I hope, I shall know your honour better ^» 
I ^n\,^ ,,,o Aesixe it. 

L C ^ l^^'vant means to quibble. He hopes Pandams will 

he chooses to K« *i. u • x * t l* * i_ 

t d- h it * 1"^^ '^ present. In his next speech 

t f <!•' ^ '^stand Pandams as if he had said he wished 

^' ^ ' "^ence the servant aflirms that he is in the 

SC. I. CHESSlD/i. 377 

Serv. You are in the state of gl%i> 

[Mpk vfithin. 
Pan, Grace I not so, friend ; honour anO'clfihip 
are my titles : — ^What musick is this ? 

Serv, I do but partly know, sir; it is musick 

Pan, Know you the musicians? 

Serv. Wholly, sir. 

Pan. Who play they to? 

Serv. To the hearers, sir. 

Pan, At whose pleasure, friend ? 

Serv, At mine, sir, and theirs that love musick. 

Pan. Command, I mean, friend. 

Serv. Who shall I command, sir? 

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another t I 
am too courtly, and thou art too cunning: At whose 
request do these men play ? 

Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir : Marry, sir, at the 
request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person ; 
witii him, the mortal Venus, the heart-biood of 
beauty, love's invisible soul, ^ 

Pan, Who, my coudn Cressida ? 

Serv* No, sir, Helen: Could you not find out 
that by her attributes ? 

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not 
seen the Lady Cressida. I come to speak with 
Paris from the Prince Trotlns : I will make a oom- 
plimental assault upon him, for my business seeths. 

Serv. Sodden busuiess! there's a stewed phrase, 
indeed ! 

Enter Paris and Helen, atte '., 

Pan, Fair be to you, my lord, and to ^ Ilii« fair 
company! fair desires, in all fair measure, j'airly 
guide them! especially to you, fair queen, fair 
thoughts be your fair pillow ! 

K k2 

878 , "SSfctrS AND ACT HI. 

Helen. D^ia^^ yon are full of. fair words. 
Pan. Y'o^iak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. — 

Eair pr^gif:!Eere is good broken musick. 

Pcpxbu haye broke it, cousin: and, by my 

life^ »hall make it whole again ; you shall piece 

itit with a piece of your performance : — Nell, he 
^;f 11 of harmony. 

i^an. Truly, lady, no. 
^Uelen. O, sir, 

Pan, Rude, in sooth; in good sooth, very rude. 

Par, Well said, my lord ! well, you say sa in 

Pan, I have business to my lord, dear queen : — 
My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word ? 

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: we'll 
hear you sing, certainly. 

Pan, Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with 
aiie. — But (marry) thus, my lord, — My dear lord, 
and most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus — 

Helen, My Lord Pandarus; honey-sweet lord, — 

Pan, Go to, sweet queen, go to: — commends 
himself most affectionately to you. 

Helen, You shall not bob us out of our melody ; 
If you do, our melancholy upon your head ! 

Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that's a sweet 
queen, i'faith. 

Helen, And to iflake a sweet lady sad, is a sour 

Pan, Nay, that shall not serve your turn ; that 
shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not for such 
words; no, no. — ^And, my lord, he desires you, 

' A quibble is intended. A fit was a part or division of a 
song or tune. The equivoque lies between jE/«| starts, or sadden 
impulses, vndifits in its masical acceptation. 

^ ' And, my lord/ &c. I think with Johnson, that the speech 
of Pandarus should begin here ; and that the former part should 
be added to that of Helen. 

SC. I. CRESSIDA... 979 

that, if the king call for him at 'rpper, you will 
make his excuse. 

Melen. My Lord Pandarus, 

Pan. What says my sweet queen, — my very 
very sweet queen? 

Par, What exploit's in hand? where sups he 
to'-night? if 

Helen, Nay, but my lord, — — I . 

Pan. What says my sweet queen ? — My cousi 
will fall out with you. You must not know where 
he sups^. 

Par. I'll lay my life, with my disposer^ Cressida. 

Pan, No, no, no such matter, you are wide; 
come, your disposer is sick. 

Par. Well, I'll make excuse. 

Pun, Ay, good toy lord. Why should you say — 
Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick.. 

Par, I spy. 

Pan, You spy ! what do you spy? — Come, give 
me an instrument. — Now, sweet queen. 

Helen, Why, this is kindly done. 

Pan, My niece is horribly in love with a. thing 
you have, sweet queen. 

* * You must not know where be sups.' These words in the 
old copies are erroneously given to Helen. 

^ Steevens would a^ve this speech to Helen, and read deposer 
instead of disposer, Helen, he thinks, may address herself to 
Pandarus ; and by her deposer, mean that Cressida had deposed 
her in the affections of Troilus. In the Epistle Dedixsatorie to 
Chapman's 'Homer, Learning is made the disposer [dispensator] 
of Poetry: — 

' Then let not this divinitie in earth 
(Deare Prince) be slighted, as she were the birth 
Of idle Fancie, since she workes so high ; 
Nor let her poore disposer (Learning) lye 
Still bed-rid.' 
Disppser appears to hare been an equivalent term anciently for 
{Steward, or manager. If the speech is to be attribated to Helen,, 
she may mean to call Cressid her hand'tnaid. 


JReien. She shall l^ye it, my lord, if It be not 
my Lord Paris. 

Pan, He ! no, she'll aone of him : they two are 

Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may mak« 
them three. 

Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this ; I'll 
sing you a song now. 

Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, 
sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. 

Pan. Ay, you may, you may. 

Helen. Let thy song be love; this love wUl nado 
us all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid ! 

Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i'faith. 

Par. Ay, good now, lore, love, nothingbut love. 

Pan. In good troth, it begins so : 

Love, love, nothing but hme, still more! 

For, oh, love's bow 

Shoots buck and doe: 

The shaft confounds. 

Not that it loounds. 
But tickles still the sore. 

These lovers cry — Oh! oh! they die! 

Yet that which seems the wound to kiU, 
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! 

So dying love lives still: 
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! 
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! 

Hey ho! 

Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose. 

Par. lie «ats nothing but doves, love ; and that 
breeds hot blood, and hot bloodibegets hot thoughts, 
and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is 

SC. {. • CRESSIBA. S81 

Pan, Is this the generation of love? hot blood , 
hot thoughts, and hot deeds 1 — Why, they are vi- 
pers: Is love a generation of vipers? Sweet lord, 
who's a-field to-day ? 

Par, Hector, Dei[^obus, Helenus, Antenor, and 
all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain have armed 
to-night, but my Nell would not have it so.. How 
chance my brother Troilus went not ? 

Helen, He hangs the lip at something; — you 
know all. Lord Pandarus. 

Pan, Not I„ honey-sweet queen. — I long to 
hear how they sped to-day. — You'll remember 
your brother's excuse ? 

Par. To a hair. 

Pan. Farewell, sweet queen. 

Helen* Commend me to your niece«r 

Pan. I will, sweet queen, [Exit. 

[A Retreat soujided. 

Par. They are come from field : let us to Priam's 
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo you 
To help unarm our Hector : his stubborn buckles. 
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd^ 
Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel. 
Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more 
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector. 

Helen. Twill make us proud to be his servant, 
Paris : 
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty. 
Give us more palm in beauty than we have ; 
Yea, overshines ourself. 

Par^ Sweet, above thought I love thee 



SCENE II. The same. Pasdarus* Orchard. 

Enter Pandarus and a Servant, meeting* 

Pan, How now? wfaere's thy inastN:? «t my 
cousin Cressida's ? > 

Serv. No, sir; he stays for you to conduct him 

Enter Troilus. 

Pan. O, here he comes. — How now, how now? 

Tfo, Sirrah, walk off. \Exit Serrant. 

Pan, Have you seen my cousin ? 

Tro, No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door, 
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, 
And give me swift transportance to those fields. 
Where I may wallow in the lily beds 
Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, 
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings. 
And fly with me to Cressid ! 

Pan, W&lk here i*the orcfaaid, PU bring her 
straight. [Exit PANDARUS. 

Tro, I am ^ddy; expectation whirls me round. 
The imaginary relish is so sweet 
That it enchants my sense; What will it be, 
'When that the watry palate tastes indeed 
Love's thrice-reputed nectar; death, I fear me; 
Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine, 
Too subtle potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, 
For the capacity of my ruder powers : 
I fear it much; and I do fear besides. 
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ^ ; 

' * abi jam amboram foerat confusa vohq>ias.* 

Sappko*9 Epistle to Phaom, 


As doth a bs^Ule^ whea th^y charge on heaps 
The enemy flying. ^ 

Re-enter Pandarus. 

Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come straight : 
you must be witty now. ' She does so blnsh, and 
fetches her wind so short, as if she were frayed 
with a sprite; I'll fetch her. It is the prettiest 
villain : she fetches her breath as short as a new- 
ta'en sparrow. [Exit Pandarus. 

TVo. Even such a passion doth embrace my bosom : 
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ; 
And all my powers do their bestowing k)sey 
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring 
The eye of majesty. 

Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 

Pan. Come, come, what need you blush ? shame's 
a baby. — Here she is now; swear the oaths now 
to her, that you have sworn to me. — ^What, are 
you gone again? you must be watched^ ere you 
be made tame, must you ? Come yaur ways, come 
your ways ; an you draw backward^ we'll put you 
i'the fills ^ — Why do you not speak to her? — 
Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture. 
Alas the day, how loath you are to offend day- 
light ! an *twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so ; 
rub on, and kiss the mistress^. How now, a kiss 

' Hawks were tamed by heepmff tkem from aUep; and thus 
Pandarns meant that Cressida should be tam«d. See Taming 
of the Shrew, Act ir. Se. 1, p. 411. 

^ i. e. the shafts, PhiUt or fiib 19 (^e term in the midland 
counties for the shafts of a cart or waggon. See yoL iti. p. 28^ 
note 8. 

* The allaiioii is to bowlisg ; what is low called ihejack was 
formerly termed the mistress, A bowl tlutl kisses the Jack or 
mistress is in the most advantageous situation. Bub on is a 
term in the game. See Cymbelioe, Act ii. So. 1. 


in fee-farm^! build there, carpenter; the uir i# 
sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere 
I part you. The falcon as the tercel ^, for all the 
ducks i' the river : go to, go to. 

Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady. 

Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds: but 
she'll bereave you of the deeds too, if she call your 
activity in question. What, billing again ? Here's 
—In witness whereof the parties interchangeably ^ — 
Come in, come in; 111 go get a fire. 

lExU Pandartjs. 

Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ? 

Tro, O, Cressida, how often have I wished me 

Cres. Wished, my lord ? — The gods grant ! — O 
my lord ! 

■ ^ ' A kiss in fee-farm' is a kiss of duration, that has bonnds, 
a fee-farm being a grant of lands in fee ; that is, for ever re- 
serving a certain rent. The same idea is expressed macfa more 
I^etically in Coriolanns, when tiie jargon of Jaw was absent 
from the poet's thoughts : — 

* O, a kiss 

Long as mj exile, sweet as my reyenge !' 
^ The tercel is the male and the falcon the female hawk. 
Pandarns appears to mean that he will back the fsdcon against 
the tercel, or match his niece against her lover for any bet» 

^ Shakspeare had here an idea in his thoughts that he baft 
elsewhere often expressed. Thas in a future page : — ' Go to, a 
bargain made ; seal it.' So in Measure for Measure :— 

' But mj kisses bring again 

Seals of love, but seaTd in vain.' 

Thus also in King John : — 

' Upon thy cheek I. lay this zealous kiss. 
As seal to the indenture of my love.' 

And io Venus and Adonis :— 

' Pure lips sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, 

Wbat bargains may I make still to be sealing T 
Green has a similar tbougbt in his Arcadia : — 

' Even with that kiss, as oncfe my father did, 

I seal the sweet indentures of delight.' 

St;. II. CR£SsiDA» 385 

' Tro. What should they grant? "whht makes this 
pretty abruption? What too curious dreg espies 
my sweet lady in the fountain of our love ? 

Cres, More dregs than water, if my fears have 

Tro. Fears make devils cherubins; they never 
see truly. 

Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds 
safer footing than blind reason stumbling without 
fear : To fear the worst, oft cures the worst. 

Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in all 
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster^. 

Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither ? 

Tro. Nothing, but our undertakings; when we 
vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame 
tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise 
imposition enough, than for us to undergo any difii-^ 
culty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, 
lady, — that the will is infinite, and the execution 
confined ; that the desire is boundless, and the act 
a slave to limit. 

Cres, They say, all lovers swear more perform*- 
ance than they are able, aiid yet reserve an ability 
that they never perform; vowing more than the 
perfection of ten, and discharging less than the 
tenth part of one. They that have the voice of 
lions, and the act of hares, are they not monsters ? 

® From this passage a Fear appears to have been a personage 
in other pageants, or perhaps in our ancient moralities. To this 
circumstance Aspatia allndes in The Maid's Tragedj:— «• 

* ., , and then a Fear 

Do that Fear bravely, wench.' 
So in Antony and Cleopatra, Act ii. Sc. 3 :— 

' near him, thy angel 

Becomes a Fear.* 
In the Sacred Writings Fear is tJso a person : — * I -will put « 
Fear in the land of Egypt.' — Exodus, Spenser has personified 
Fear in the twelfth canto of the third book of his Fairy Queen. 



Tro, Are there such? «ieh areaotwe: Praise 
us a& we are tasted, allow us as we proye; our- 
head shall go bare, tUl merit crown it : no perfec- 
tion in reversion shall have a praise in present: we 
will not name desert, before his birth ; and, being 
bom^ bis addition^ shall be humble. Few words 
to fair faith: Troilus shall be such to Cressid, as 
what enyy can say worst, shall be a mock for his 
truth^^; and what truth can speak truest, not truer 
than Troilus. 

6Ve«. Will you walk in, my lord? 

Re-enter Pandarus. 

Pan, Whaty blushing still ? have you not done 
talking yet ? 

Ores, Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedi-^ 
cate to you. 

Pian» I thank you for that ; if my lord get a boy 
of you, you'll give him me : Be true to my lord : 
if he flinch, chide me for it. 

Tro. You know now your hostages ; your uncle's 
word, and my firm faith. . 

Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too; our 
kindred, liiough they be long ere they are wooed, 
they are constant, being won : they are burs, I can 
teli you: they'll stick where they are thrown ^^. 

Ores. Boldness cooies to me now, and brings me 
heart : — 
Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day 
For many weary mondis. 

Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win? 


' i. ^. we will gfi¥e hin no high or pompont titles. 

i<> Even malice (i. e. envy) shall not be able to impeach his 
trnth, or attach him in any other wsy, except by ridicaling him 
for hit conttanoy. See vol. iii. p. 72, note 1. 

" W« have tiftit allasion in Measure for Bfeasure :— 
< Nay, finw, I am a kiad oibw,l shall stick.' 

SC. 11. CRESSIDA. 387 

Cre8. JHftrd to seem won; but I was won, my lord. 
With the first glance that ever — Pardon me; — 
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant. 
I love you now ; but not, till now, so much 
But I might master it: — ^in faith, I lie; 
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown 
Too headstrong for their mother: See, we fools \ 
Why have I blabb'd? who shall be true to iis» 
Whai we are so unsecret to ourselves? 
But, though I loVd you well, I woo'd you not; 
And yet, good faiA, I wish*d myself a man ; 
Or that we women had men's privilege 
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me .hold my tongue; 
For, in this rapture, I shall surely speak 
The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence. 
Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws 
My. very soul of counsel : Stop my moui&. 

Tro. And shall, albeit sweet musick issues thence. 

Pan. Pretty, i'faith. 

Cres. My lord, I do beseech you pardon me; 
*Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss : 
I am asham'd ; — O heavens ! what have I done ? — 
For this time will I take my leave, my lord. 

Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid ? 

Pan. Leave! an you take leave till to-morrow 

Cres. Pray you, content you. 

Tro. What offends you, lady? 

Cres. Sir, mine own company. 

Tro. You cannot shun 


Cres. Let me go and try: 
I have a kind of self resides with you; 
But an unkind self, that itself will leave. 
To be another's fool, I would be gone : 
Where is my wit? I know not what I speak.. 


Tro, * Well know they what thdy speak,- that 
speak so wisely. 

Cres, Perchance, my lord, I show more craft 
than love; 
And fell so roundly to a large confession,. 
To angle for your thoughts: But you are wise; 
Or else you love not; For to be wise, and love. 
Exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above ^^. 

Tro. O, tiiat I thought it could be in a woman, 
(As, if it can, I will presume in you)^ 
To feed for aye^^ her lamp and flames of love; 
To keep her constancy in plight and youth, 
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind 
That doth renew swifter than blood decays ! . 
Or, that persuasion Qould but thus convince me,- 
That my integrity and truth to you 
Might be afiironted^^ with the match and weight 
Of such a winnow'd purity in love ; 
How were I then uplifted ! but, alsts, 
I am as true as truth^s simplicity,. 
And simpler than the infancy of truth. 

^^ Cressida's meaning appears to be, ' Perchance I fell too 
roundlj to confession, in order to angle for yonr thoughts ; but 
yoa are not so easily taken in; yon are too wise, or too indif- 
£erent; for to be wise, and love, exceeds man's might.' The 
thought originally belongs to Pablius Syras : — * Amare et sapere 
vix Deo conceditnr.' Spenser has it in his Shepherd's Calen- 
dar, March : — 

' To be wise and eke to love 
Is gpranted scarce to gods above.' 
It is to be found in Taverner's translation of Pablias Syras, at 
the end of Catonis Disticha, 1532. 

*^ Troilus allades to the perpetual lamps, which were sup- 
posed to illuminate sepulchres. 

* lasting flames, that burn 

To light the dead, and warm th' nnfroitfal urn.' 
See Pericles, Act ii. Sc. 1. 

^* Met with and equalled. See Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 1 :' — 

* That he, as 'twere by accident, may here 

Affront Ophelia.' 

^ \, ^f^^mmmmnimtmm^ 


, Cres. In that I'll war with you. 
Tro. O virtuous fight. 

When right with right wars who shall be most right ! 
True swains in love shall, in the world to come. 
Approve their truths by Troilus : when their rhymos^ 
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare ^^» 
Want similes of truth, tir'd with iteration ^^,--* 
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon^^. 
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate. 
As iron to adamant, as earth to flie centre, — 
Yet, after all comparisons of truth. 
As truth's authentick author to be cited. 
As true as Troilus shall crown up ^® the verse. 
And sanctify the numbers* 

Cres. ProjAet may you be! 

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, 
When time is old and hath forgot itself. 
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, 
And blind oblivion swallow 'd cities up, 
And mighty states characterless are grated 
To dusty nothing; yet let memory, 
From false to false, among false maids in love. 
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said — as 

As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth. 
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son; 

'" Comparisons. 

*® In the old copj this line stands :— 

' Wants similes truth tird with iteration.' 
The emendation was proposed by Mr. Tjrwhitt. 

^ Plantage is here put for anj diingplanted, which was thoagh t 
to depend for its success upon the inflnence of the moon. ' The 
poore hasbandman perceivelh that the incrdftse of the moone 
maketh plants frnitfali ; so as in the fuU moone they are in their 
best strength ; decaieing in the wane; and in the conjunction do 
Otterlie jrither and vade.' — Scot'^ Discoverie &f. WUckfarafiif 

**«oonoliide»it. Finif eoronat opus, 

L L2 


Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood , 
As false as Cressid. 

Pan. Go to, a bargain made: seal it, seal itr 
I'll be the witness. — Here I hold your hand; here, 
my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to an- 
other, since I have taken such pains to bring you 
together, let all pitiful goers-between be called to 
the world's end after my name, call them all — 
Pandars; let all constant ^^ men be Troiluses, all 
false women Cressids, and all brokers-between 
Pandars ! say, amen. 

Tro. Amen. 

Cre«. Amen. 

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a 
chamber and a bed, which bed, because it shall 
not speak of your pretty encounters, press it to 
death: away. 

And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here. 
Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer ! 


SCENE III. The Grecian Camp. 

JSn^er Agamemnon, Ulysses, DioMEDEs, Nes- 
tor, A JAX, Menelaus, and Calchas. 

CaL Now, princes, for the service I have done you. 
The advantage. of the time prompts me aloud 
To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind. 
That, through the sight I bear in things, to Jove^ 

*' Hanmer altered this to * inconstant men;' but the poet 
seems to have been less attentive to make Pandariis talk conse- 
qaentially,.than to account for the ideas actuaUy annexed to thoi. 
three names in his own time. 

^ The old copies all concur in reading — 

* That through the sight I bear in things to loveJ 
Whioh Steevens thinks may be explained : — *■ No longer assist^ 
ing Troy with my advice, I have left it to ihe dominion of love. 


I have abandon^ Troy, left my possession, 
Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself, 
From certain and possessed conveniences. 
To doubtful fortunes ; s6quest*ring from me all 
That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition, . 
Made tame and most familiar to my nature ; 
And here, to do you service, am become 
As new into ^ the world, strange, unacquainted : 
I do beseech you, as in way of taste, 
To give me now a little benefit. 
Out of those many registered in promise. 
Which you say, live to come in my behalf. . 

Agam. What would'st thou of us, Trojan ? make 

CaL You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor, 
Yesterday took ; Troy holds him very dear. 
Oft have you (often have you thanks therefore), 
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange. 
Whom Troy hath still denied : But this Antenor, 
I know, is such a wrest ^ in their affairs, 

to the conseqaences of the amour of Paris and Helen/ The pre- 
sent reading of the text is sapported bj Johnson and M alone ; 
to which Mason makes this objection : — ' That it was Juno and 
not Jove that persecuted the Trojans. Jove wished them well, 
^nd though we may abandon a man to his enemies, we cannot, 
with propriety, say that we abandon him to his friends.' Some 
modern editions have the line thus : — 

' That through the sight I bear in things torome.' 
Which is an emendation to which I must confess I incline : for, 
as Mason observes, ' the speech of Calchas would- have been in^ 
complete, if he had said he abandoned Troy, from the sight he 
bore of thingSf without explaining it by adding the words to come,* 

The merit of Calchas did not merely consist in having come 
over to the Greeks ; he also revealed to them the fate of Troy, 
which depended on their conveying away the palladium, and the 
horses of Rhesus, before they should drink of the river Xanthus. 

^ Into for unto; a common form of expression in old writers. 
Thus in the Paston Ijetters, vol. ii. p. 5 : — ' And they that have 
justed with him into this day, have been as richly beseen,' &c. 

^ A wrest is an instrument for tuning harps, &c. by draminy 



That thc^if negotiations all must slack. 
Wanting his manage; and they will almost 
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam, 
In change of him : let him be sent, great princes,; 
And he shall buy my daugbtear ; and her presence 
Shall quite strike off all service I have done. 
In most accepted pain *, 

Aganu Let Diomedes bear him. 

And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas shall have 
What he requests of us. — Good Diomed, 
Furnish you fairiy for this interchange : 
Withal,. bring word — if Hector will to-morrow 
Be answer'd in bis challenge : Ajax is ready. 

Dio. This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden 
Whicb I am proud to bear. 

[JExeunt Diomedes and Calchas. 

Enter Achilles and Patroclxjs, before their 


Vlyss. Achilles stands i' the entrance of his tent : — • 
Please it our general to pass strangely by him, 
As if he were forgot; and, princes all, 
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him : 
I will come last : Tis like, he'll question me, 
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on 

him : 
If so, I have derision med'cinable, 

up the strings. Its form may be seen in some of the illamiaated 
service books, where David is represented ; in the Second Part 
of Mersenna's Harmonics ; and in the Syatafciaata of Pretorias, 
Tol. ii. (ig« xix* So in King James's Edict against Combats, 
&e.p. 45: — 

' This small instrument the tongue, being 

Kept in tone by the wrest of awe/ 
* Hanmer and Warburtoa read, * In most accepted pag,* Bat 
the coBstraction of the passage, as it stands, appears lo be, 
* Her presemce nhaU strike off, or reoonipense the $erwc6 X hmt€ 
ifone, even in those labowrs which were most accepted* 


To use between our strangeness and his pride, 
Which his own will shall have desire to drink ; 
It may do good: pride hath no other glass 
To show itself, but pride ; for supple knees 
Peed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 

Agam, We'll execute your purpose, and put oir 
A form of strangeness as we pass along ; 
So do each lord ; and either greet him not. 
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more 
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way. 

AchiL What, comes the general to speak with me f 
You know my miud, I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy. 

Agam, What says Achilles? would he aught 
with us ? 
. Nest. Would you, my lord, aught with the general ? 

AchiL No. 

JVe»f . Nothing, my lord. 

Agam.. The better, 

[Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. 

AchiL Good day, good day. 

Men, How do you ? how do you ? 

[J^orif Menelaus. 

AchiL What, does the cuckold scorn me ? 

Ajax, How now, Patroclus ? 

AchiL Good morrow, Ajax. 

Ajax, Ha? 

AchiL Good morrow. 

Ajax, Ay, and good next day too. 

[Exit Ajax. 
" AchiL What mean these fellows ? Know they not 
Achilles ? 

Patr, They pass by strangely: they were us'd 
to bend. 
To send their smiles before them to Achilles; 
To come as humbly, as they us'd to creep 
To holy altars. 


AcbiL What, am I poor of late ? 

'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortimey. 
Must fall out with men too : What the decUn'd is. 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others. 
As feel in his own fall : for men, like butterflies, 
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer ; 
And not a man, for being simply man, 
Hath any honour ; but honour for those hononra 
That are without him, as place, riches, favour. 
Prizes of accident as oft as merit : 
Which when they fall, as being slippery fitanders. 
The love that leaned on them as slippery too, 
Do one pluck down another, and together 
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me : 
Fortune and I are friends ; I do enjoy 
At ample point all that I did possess, 
Saye these men's looks : who do, methinks, find out 
Something not worth in me such rich beholding 
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses ; 
I'll interrupt his reading.— 
How now, Ulysses ? 

Ulyss, Now, great Thetis' son ? 

AchiL What are you reading? 

Ulyss. A strange fellow here 

Writes me. That man— how dearly ever parted^, 
How much in having, or without, or in, — 
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath. 
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection ; 

^ However esceUeiUly endowed, with however deir or preoionft 
parts enriched. So in Massinger's Great Duke of Florence: — 
' And I, mj lord, chose rather 
To deliver her better parted than she is, 
Than to take from her.' 

Thus in a snlMseqnent passage > — 

' no man is the lord of^mv thing 

(Thongh in and of him there is mach consisting)^ 
Till he communicate his parts tt» others.* 


As when his virtues shining upon others 
Heat them, and they retort that heat again 
To the first giver. 

Achil. This is not strange, Ulysses. 

The beauty that is borne here in the face 
The bearer knows not, but commends itself 
To others' eyes : nor doth the eye itself 
(That most pure spirit of sense), behold itself^. 
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd 
Salutes each other with each other's form. • 
For speculatioa^ turns not to itself. 
Till it hath travelled, and is married there 
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at all. 

Ulyss. I do not strain at the position. 
It is familiar; but at the author's drift: 
Who, in his circumstance », expressly proves— 
That no man is the lord of any thing 
(Though in and of him there be much consisting), . 
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; which ^, like an arch, 

The voice again ; or like a gate of steel 
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back 
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in thift ; 
And apprehended here immediately 

• Thus in Julias Ceesar : — 

' No, Cassias ; for the eve sees not itself 
Bat bj reflection ; by some other things.' 

"^ Spectdation has here the same meaning as in Macbeth : — 

' Thoa hast no ipeculation in those eyes 
Which thoa dost glare with.' 

^ Detail of argument. 

^ The old copies read : — ' tokoy like an arch, reverberate ;" 
which may mess, Tli«y who applaud reTerberate. The elliptick 
mode of expression is in the poet's manner. Rowe made the 

i396 TROILUS AND ACT lit. 

The unknown Ajax^*\ 

Heavens, what a man is there ! a very horse ; 

That has he knows not what. Nature, what tilings 

there are, 
Most abject in regcurd, and dear in use ! 
What things again most dear in the esteem, 
And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morrow. 
An act that very chance doth throw upon him, — 
Ajax renown'd. O heavens, what some jnen do. 
While some men leave to do ! 
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, 
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes ! 
How one man eats into another's pride, 
^While pride is fasting in his wantonness ! 
To see these Grecian lords ! — why, even already 
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder; 
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast. 
And great Troy shrieking ^^. 

Achil. I do believe it : for they passed by me^ 
As misers do by beggars : neither gave to me 
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds forgot? 

Ulyss. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back. 
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion ^^, 
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : 
Those scraps are good deeds past : which are deyour''d 
A^ fast as they are made, forgot as soon 


^^ i. e. Ajax, who has abilities which were never broaght into 
view or ase. 

^* The folio reads shrinking. The following passage in the 
subsequent «cene seems to favoar the reading of the qaarto : — 
* Hark, how Troy roars; how Hecaba cries out; 
Hqw poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth ; 
And all crj — Hector, Hector*8 dead.' 

*' This image is literally from Spenser : — 

' And eeke this waUet at your backe arreKte-'^ 

* ' * • « « • « 

And in this bag, which I behinde me don, 
} pui repentannce for tftinys past and gone^* 

F, Q, b. vi. c. viii. st. 24. 


As done : Perseverance, dear my lord. 

Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang* 

Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 

In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; 

For honour travels in a strait so narrow, 

Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; 

For emulation hath a thousand sons^ 

That one by one pursue': If you 'give way. 

Or hedge aside firom the direct forthright. 

Like to an entered tide, they all rush by> 

And leave you hindmost : — 

Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank^^. 

Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 

O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in 

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours : 
For time is like a fashionable host. 
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand ; 
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly. 
Grasps in the comer : Welcome ever smiles. 
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek 
Remuneration for the thing it was;- 
For beauty, wit, 

Higb birth, vigour of bone, desert in «ervice» 
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
To envious and calumniating time. 
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — 
That all, with one consent, praise new-bom gawds ^'*, 
Though they are made and moulded of things past; 
And give to dust, that is a little gilt. 
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted ^*, 

^^ The quarto wholly omits the simile of the horse, and reads 
thus : — 

* And leave yon hindmost, then what they dt> at present* 

** New-fashioned toys. 

^ GiUt in this second line, is a substantive. See Coriolanns, 
Act i. Sc. 3. Dust a little gilt means ordinary performances, 



The present eye praiaes the present object: 
Then miairvel not, thcni great and c6mplete man» 
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; 
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye» 
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee. 
And still it might; and yet it may again. 
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive. 
And ca9e thy reputation in thy tent; 
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late. 
Made emulous mbsions^^ 'mongst the gods them- 
And drave great Mars to faction. 

AchiL Of this my privacy 

I have Rtrong reasons. 

Ulyss. But 'gainst yo«r privacy 

The reasons are ibore potent and heroical: 
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love 
With one of Priam's daughters ^'^. 

A^kil* Ha ! known ? 

UlyM* Is that a wonder? 
The povidence that's in a watchful state, 
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold; 
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ; 
Keeps place with thoii^it^, ahdalmost, like the gods, 

which have the gloss of norelty. Gilt a'er^uated meaiis splentid 
actions of preceding ages, the remembrance of which is weak- 
ened by time. 

^ i. e. the descent of deities to oombat on either side. Shak- 
speare prebabl j followed Chapaan's Honer : is the fifth book 
of the Iliad Diomed wounds Mars, who on his retarn to heaven 
is rated by Japiter for having interfered in the battle. This 
disobedience is the fMctkm alluded to. 

17 Polyxena/ in the aet of marrying whom he was afturwarda 
killed by Paris. 

'^ There is in the providence of a state, as in the providence 
of the nniverse, a kind of vbiqmty>. It is possible that there may 
be s«BM allusion to the sublime description of the Diviae onni- 
pres«no« in the 139tb Psalm. 


Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. 
There is a mystery (wMi whom rdafeiou 
Durst nev&[ meddle ^^) in the soul of state ; . 
Which hath an operation more diyine^ 
Than breath, or pen, can give expressure to : 
All the camm^ce ^^ tjuit you have had with Troy, 
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord ; 
And better would it fit Adiilles much, 
To throw down Hactor, than Polyxena: 
But it must grieye young Pyrrhus now at home. 
When fame shall m our i^ands sound her trump ; 
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, — 
Great Hectares sister did AchiUes win; 
But our great Ajax bravely beat dman him. 
Farewell, my lord : I as your lover speak ; 
The fool slides o'er the ice that ytm should break. 


Patr, To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you : 
A woman impudent and n^apnish grown 
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man 
In time of action. I stand condemned for this ; 
They think, my little stomach to the war. 
And your great love to me, restrains you thus : 
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, 
And, like a dewdrop from the lion's mane. 
Be shook to air^^. 

AchiL Shall Ajax fight with Hector? 

Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much honour 
by him. 

, ^ There is a secret adniiustration ef sffiizs, wUiok 99 kiHonf 
was ever able to discoyer. 

^ Commerce, This word is so accented by Chapman in his 
yersion of the fourth book of the Odyssey : — 

< To labour's taste, nor the commerce of men.* 
3' The folio has ' ayrU air.* 


AchiL I see my reputation is at stake ; 
My fame is shrewdly gor'd*^. 

Pair, O,. then beware ; 

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves : 
Omission to do what is necessary 
S.eals a commission to a blank of danger ; 
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
Even then when we sit idly in the sun. 

AchiL Go call Theriates hither, sweet Patroclus : 
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him 
To invite the Trojan lords, after the combat. 
To see us .here unarm'd: I have a woman's longing. 
An appetite that I am sick withal. 
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ; 
To talk with him, and to behold his visage. 
Even to my full view. A labour sav'd ! 

Enter Thersjtes. 

Ther. A wonder! 

AchiL What? 

7%er. Ajax goes up and down ilie field, asking 
for himself. 

AchiL How so ? 

Ther, He must fight singly to-morrow with 
Hector t and is so prophetically proud of an he- 
roical cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. 

AchiL How can that be ? 

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a pea- 
cock, a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like an 
hostess, that hath no arithmetick but her brain to 
set down her reckoning : bites his lip with a poli- 
tick regard^, as who should say — there were wit 

^ So in Hamlet: — 

' To keep thy name ungor'dp 

And in Shakspeare's 110th Sonnet: — 

' Alas, 'tis trne I have gone here and there, — 
Gor*d mj own thoughts/ 
^ i. e. a si J look. 

SC. III. CR£SSII>A. 401 


in this head, an 'twould out; and so ^ere is; but 
it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint, whick trill 
not show without knocking ^^. The man's undone for 
eyer : for if Hector break not his neck i' the com- 
bat, he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows 
not me: I said. Good-morrow , Ajax; and he re- 
plies. Thanks, Agamemnon. What think you of 
this man, that takes me for the general? He is 
grown a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. 
A plague of opinion ! a man may wear it on both 
sides, like a leather jerkin. 

Achil, Thou must be my ambassador to him, 

Ther. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; he 
professes not answ^ing; speaking is for beggars; 
he wears his tongue in his arms^^. I will, put on 
his presence; let Patroclus make demands on me, 
you shall see the pageant of Ajax. 

AohiL To him, Patroclus : Tell him, — I humbly 
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous 
Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and. to pro- 
cure safe conduct for his person, of the magnani- 
mous, and mo^t illustrious, six-or-seven- times-ho- 
noured captain-geoeral of die Grecian army, Aga* 
memnon. Do this. 

Pair. Jove bless great Ajax. 

T^er. Humph! 

Pair. J come from the worthy Achilles, — — - 

ner. Ha! 

Pair. Who most humbly desires you to invite 
Hector to his tent ! 

** Thus in Julius Cfesfir : — • 

* That carries anger, as tkeflittt bwrsjire. 
Who much enforced shows a hasty spark. 
And straight is cold again.' 

25 So in Macbeth :•— 

' My voke is in my sioord,* 

M M 2 


Ther. Humph I 

Pair. And to procure safe conduct from Aga- 

Ther, Agamemnon? 

Pair. Ay, my lord. 

Ther. Ha! 

Pair. What say you to't? 

Tker. God be wi' you, witii all my heart. 

Pair, Your answer, sir. 

Tker, If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven 
o'clock it will go one way or other; howsoever, her 
shall pay for me ere he has me. 

Pair. Your answer, sir. 

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 

Achil, Why, but he is not in this tune, is he ? 

Ther. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What mu- 
sick will be in him when Hector has knocked out 
his brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; 
unless the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make 
catlings-^ on. 

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 
straight. • . 

Ther. Let me bear. another to his horse; for 
that^s the more capable^ creature. 

AchiL My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd^ 
And I myself see not the bottom of it. 

[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were 
clear again, that I might water an ass at iti I had 
rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant 
ignorance. [Exit. 

^ Lute-strings made of catgut. One of the masioians in 
Romeo and Juliet is named Simon Catling. 

27 i. e. intelligent. So in King Richard III. :^— 

* Bold, forward, quick, ingenious, capable.* ' 
See also Hamlet, Actlii. Sc. 4. 

CRESSIDA. » 403 


SCENE I. Troy. A Street. 

Enter, at one side, JEInbas, and Servant with n( 
Torch; at the other, Paris, Deiphobus, An- 
T£NOR» DlOMEDES, and Others, with T(yicche$. 

Par, See, ho ! who's that there ? 

Dei. Tis the lord JUneas. 

^ne. Is the prince there in person? — 
Had I so good occasion to lie long, 
As you. Prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business 
Should rob my bed-mate of my company. 

Dio. That's my mind too. — Good morrow. Lord 

Par. A valiant Greek, :Xneas; take his hand : 
Witness the process of your speech, wherein 
You told — ^how Diomed, a whole week by days. 
Did haunt you in the field. 

jBEne. Health to you, valiant sir. 

During all question ^ of the gentle truce : 
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance. 
As heart can think, or courage execute. 

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. 
Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long, health : 
But when contention and occasion meet. 
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life. 
With all my force, pursuit, and policy. 

:^Ene. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly ' 
With his face backward. — In humane gentleness. 
Welcome to Troy ! now, by Anchises' life, 

* i. e. conversation while the truce lasttu 


Welcome, indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear •, 
No man alive can love, in such a sort. 
The thing he means to kill more excellently. 

Dio. We sympathize: — Jove, let JEneas live. 
If to my sword his fate be not the glory, 
A thousand cdmplete courses of the sun ! 
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die. 
With every joint a wound; and that to-moirow \ 

JEne. We know each other wiell. 

Dw. W* do ; and long to know each other worse. 

Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting. 
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. — 
What business, lord, so early ? 

JEne, I was sent £9r to the king; but why, I 
know not. 

Par. His purpose meets you ^ : Twas to bring 
this Greek 
To Calchas' house ; and there to render him. 
For the enfreed Anteaor, the fair Cressid : 
Let's have your company ; or, if you please. 
Haste there before us : I constantly do think 
(Or, rather, call my thoughts a certain knowleilge)^ 
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night ; 
!Rouse him, and give him note of our approach. 
With the whole quality wherefore : I fear. 
We shall be much unwelcome. 

^ne» That I assure you ; 

Tvoilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, 
Than Cressid borne from Troy. 

Par. There is no help ; 

The bitter (disposition of the time 
Will have it so. On, lord; we'll follow you. 

JEae* Good morrow, all. [Ex4i. 

Par, And tell iDe,noble Diomed ; 'faith,tell me true, 

^ He swears 6r8t bj the life of his father, and then bj the 
hand of his motfaer. 
^ i. e. I bring you his meaning and his orders. 

S€r« I. CRESSIDA. 40& 

Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, — 
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best^ 
Myself;, or M enelaus ? 

IHo, Both alike : 

He merits well to have her, that doth seek her 
(Not making any scruple of her soilure), 
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge; 
And you as well to keep her, that defend her 
(^ot palating the taste of her dishonour) 
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends : 
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up 
The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece : 
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loius 
Are pleas'd to. breed out your inheritors : 
Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more ; 
But he as he, the heavier for a whored 

Par, You are too bitter to your countrywoman. 

Dio, She's bitter to her country : Hear me, Paris,—* 
For every false drop in her bawdy veins 
A GreciiBin's life hath sunk ; for every scruple 
Of her contaminated carrion weight, 
A Trojan hath been slain : since she could speak. 
She hath not given so many good words breath. 
As for her Greeks and Trojans sufi^er'd death. 

Par, Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do. 
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy : 
But we in silence hold this virtue well, — 
We'll not commend what we intend to sell ^. 
Here lies our way. [Exeunt. 

* The merits of each being weighed are exactly equal ; in 
each of the scales a harlot mast be placed, since each of them 
has been equally attached to one. 

* Warburton would read : — 

' We'll not commend what we intend not sell,' 

So in 3hakspeare's 21st Sonnet : — 

* I will aoi praise that purpose not to sell,* 
Not wU sounds harsh ; but such elliptical expressions are not 
anfrequent in these plays. 


;?. SCJENE 11. 

The same. Court before the H(nise o/*PandarttS. 

Enter Troilus and Cressida. 

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the mom is cold. 

Cres, Then, sweet my lord, 111 call muie uncle 
He shall unbolt the gates. 

Tro, Trouble him not; 

To bed, to bed : Sleep kill those pretty eyes. 
And give as soft attachment to thy senses. 
As infants' empty of all thought 1 

Cres. Good morrow thea. 

Tro. Tr'ythee now, to bed. 

Cres. Are you aweary of me ? 

Tro. O Cressida ! but that the busy day, 
Wak*d by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald^ crows. 
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
I would not from thee. 

Cres. Night hath been too brief. 

Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights * 
she stays, 
.As tediously as hell ; but flies the grasps of love. 
With' wings more momentary-swift than thought. 
You will catch cold, and curse me. 

Cres. Pr'y thee, tarry ; — 

You men will never tarry, 

O foolish Cressid ! — I might have still held oflT, 
And then you wouM hare tarried. Hark! there's 
one up. 

' i. e. * the roguish or thievish crows.' Ribaldry signified 
roguery, nanghtiness, or loose conduct of any kind, among oar 
ancestors. It may, howeyer, be med in the sense of oft^eeiw. 

' i. e. yeneiici, those who ase noetiinml sorcery. Tfius Baret : 
' Veoefica»-oa. He or she that poysooetb, or wmtrnwih; mm that 
aseth sorcery.'— ^/tworie, ▼. 22. 

SG. II. C&KSSIDA. 407 

Pan. [WUhbi.'] Wfaat^ are all the doors open 

Tro. It is your uncle. 

Enter Pandarus ^ 
Crts. A pestilence on bhn ! now wHl lie be mock* 

I shall have such a life, 

Pan. How now, how now ? how go maidenheads ? 
— Here, yon maid ! whereas my cousin Cressid ? 
Cres, Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking 
uncle ! 
You bring me to do, and then you flout me too. 

Pan^^ To do whatt to do what? — ^let her say 
what: what have I broaght you' to do? 

Cves, Come, come; beshrewyour heart! youll 
ne'er be good. 
Nor suffer others. 

Pan. Ha, ka! Alas, poor wretch! a poor ca- 
pocchia^ — hast not slept to-night? would he not, a 
naughty man, let it sleep ? a bugbear take him ! 

Cr€$, Did I not tell you?-*-Vould he were 
knock'd o'the head! — 
Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. — 

' The liint for the following scene appears to have been amf' 
gested bj Chancer. Troilns and Cresseide, b. iii. y. 1561 : — > 

* Pandare, a morowe which that oommen was 
Unto his nec^, gan her faire to grete, 

And saied all this night so rained it alas ! 
That all mj drede is, that ye, nec^ swete, 
Have little lesir had to slepe and mete, 
All night (q«od he) hath rain so do me wake, 
That some of ns I trowe their beddis ake, 

Cresseide answerde, — never the bet for yon, 
Fox« tbat ye ben, God yeve yosr bert^ eaye, 
God help mt so, ye cansed all this km, &o, 

* Capoeekia, an Italian word tagfooL 


.My lord; oome you again into my chamber: 
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant naughtily. 

Tro. Ha, ha ! 

Cre$, Come, you are deceiv'd, I think of no such 
thing.— {Knocking. 

.How earnestly they knock! — pray you, come in; 
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. 

{Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. 

Pan, [Going to the door,'] Who's there? what's 
the matter? will you beat down the door? How 
now? what's the matter? 

Enter ^Eneas. 

.j3^. Good morrow, lord* good morrow. 

Pan. Who'jsj there? my Lord ^neas? By my 
jtroth, I knew you not: what news with you so 
early ? 

JEne, Is not Prince Troilus here? 

Pan, Here ! what should h^ do here ? . 
■ j3Sne, Come^ he is here, my lord, do not deHy him; 
It doth impprt him much, to speak wjith me. 

Pan, Is he here, say you ? 'tis more than I know, 
.I'll be sworn : — rFor my own part, I came in late : 
What should he do here ? 

JEke, Who! — nay, then: — Come, come, you'll 
do him wrong ere you are 'ware : you'll be so true 
to him, to be false to him : Do not you know of 
hiib? yet go fetch him hither; go. 

As Pandarus ig going out, enter Troilus. 

Tro, How now? what's the matter? 
.^Ehe. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute you^ 
My matter is so rash^ : There is at hand 

^ i,e,htsiy or abnqtt. So in Romeo and Jnliet:— 
• < It is too rash, too nnadns'd, too sodden, 
Too like the ligbtning.' 


Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, 
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor 
Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith. 
Ere the first saicrifice, within this hour. 
We must give up to Diomedes' hand 
The lady Cressida. 

Tro. Is it so concluded ? 

j3Ske. By Priam, and the general state of Troy : 
They are at hand, and ready to effect it. 

Tro. How my achievements mock me^ ! 
I will go meet them : and, my Lord iEneas, 
We met by chance ; you did not find me here. 

JEne. Good, good, my lord; the secrets of nature 
Have not more gift in taciturnity. 

[Exeunt Troilus and ^neas. 
' Pan, Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? The 
devil take Antenor ! the young prince will go mad. 
A plague upon Antenor, I would they had brokers 

Enter Cressida. 

Cres. How now ?. What is the matter ? Who was 
here ? 

Pan. Ah, ah ! 

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly ? where's my 
lord gone ? 
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? 

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as 
I am abovcf ! 

Cres* O the gods ! — what's the matter ? 

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee in ; 'Would thou hadst 
ne'er been bom! I knew, thou would'st be his 
death: — O poor gendeman! — A plague upon An- 

^ So in Antony and Cleopatra : — 

' And mock our ejes with air.* 

VOL. Vll. N N 


Cres. Good uacle, I besee^^h you oa iny knees, 
I beseech you, what's the matter ? 

Pan, Thou must be gone, wench> thou must be 
gone: thou art changed for Antenor: thou n^ust to. 
thy father, and be gone fron^ Troilus; 'twill be his 
death ; 'twill be his bane : he cannot bear it. 

Cres, O you immprtal gods ! — I will not go* 

Pan* Thou must. 

Cres, I will not, uncle: I have forgot my father; 
I know no touch ^ of consanguinity; 
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me. 
As the sweet Troilus. — O you gods divine ! 
Make Cressid's name the very crown ^ of falsehood. 
If ever she leave Troilus ! Time, force, aiid death. 
Do to this body what extremes you can ; 
But the strong base and building of my love 
Is as the very centre of the earth. 
Drawing all things to it. — I'll go in, and weep ; — 

Pan. Do, do. 

Cres, Tear my bright hair, and scratch my praised 
Crack my clear voice with sobis, and break my heart 
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy. 


The same. Before Pandarus' House, 

Enter Paris, Troilus, JEneas, Deiphobus^ 
. Antenor, and Diomedes. 
Par. It is great morning^; and the hour preiix'd 
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek 

7 Sewe or feeling of rdationship. So in Macbeth : — 

* He wants the natural touch.* 
See Tempest, Act v. Sc. 1, note 3, p. 80. 

* i. e. the very height. So in Cjmbeline : — 

* My supreme crown of grief.' 
See Act iii. Sc. 2, note 18, p. 389. ante. 

' i. e. broad day. It is a familiar French idiom, — C'est grand 


Comes fast upon : — Good my brother Troilus, 
Tell you the lady what she is to do, 
And haste her to the purpose. 

Tro, Walk in to her house J 

111 bring her to the Greciaki ptesently: 
And to his hand when I deliver her, 
Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus 4 
A priest, there offering to il his own heart. [Exit. 

Par, I know what 'tiis to love ; 
And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help ! — 
Please you, walk in, my lords. [Exeunt^ 

The same. A Room in Pandarus' House. 

Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 

Pan. fie moderate, be moderate. 

Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? 
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 
And violentethi b a sense as strong 
As that which causeth it) How can I moderate it? 
If I could temporize with my affection. 
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, 
The like allayment could I give my grief: 
My love admits no qualifying dross : 
No more my grief, in such a precious loss. 

Enter Troilus. 

Pan. Here, here, here he coines. — Ah sweet 
ducks ! 

' This verb is used bj Ben Jonson in The Devil is an Ass : — 
' Nor nature vioUnceth in both these.' 
And Fuller, in his Worthies of England, Anglesea : ' His former 
adversaries violented any thing against him. The folio copy 
reads :— 

' The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste, 
And no less in a sense as strong 
As th&t which causeth it.' 



Cres. O Troilus ! Troilus ! [Embracing him. 

Pan, What a pair of spectacles is here! Let 

me embrace too: O heart, — as the goodly saying^ 


O heart, O heavy heart. 

Why sigKst thou withattt breaking? 

where he answers again, 

Because thou canst not ease thy smart, 
- By Jriendship, nor by speaking. 

There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast away 
nothing, for we may live to have need of such a 
verse; we see it, we see it. — How now, lambs? 

Tro, Cressid, I love thee in so strained a purity. 
That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy. 
More bright in zeal than the devotion which 
Cold lips blow to their deities, — take thee from me. 

Cres. Have the gods envy ? 

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay; 'tis too plain a case. 

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from Troy ? 

Tro. A hateful truth. 

Cres. What, and from Troilus too? 

Tro. From Troy, and Troilus. 

Cres. Is it possible? 

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance 
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by 
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents 
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows 
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath : 
We two, that with so many thousand sighs 
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves 
With the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste, 
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how ! 
As many farewells as be stars in heaven. 


With distinct breath and consign'd^ kisses to them. 
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ; 
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss. 
Distasted with the salt of broken tears. 

JE^e. [Within,] My lord! is the lady ready? 

7Vo. Hark ! you are call'd : Some say, the Ge- 
nius so 
Cries, Come! to him that instantly must die^. — 
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon. 

Pan, Where are my tears ? rain, to lay this wind*, 
or my heart will be blown Up by the root! 

[Erie Pan DA Rus. 

Cres. I must then to the Greeks? 

Tro. No remedy. 

Cres* A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks ^ ! 
When shall we see again ? 

Tro. Hear me, my love: Be thou but true of 

^ Consigned means sealed, from consigno, Lat. Thas in King 
Henry V. ' It were, my lord, a hard condition for a maid to con- 
sign to.' See Act iii. Sc. 2, note 7, p. 384, ante. 

^ An obscure poet (Flatman) has borrowed this thought: — 

*■ My soul jnst now aboat to take her flight, 

Into the regions of eternal night, 

Methinks I hear some gentle ipirit say. 

Be not feaiful, come away V 
After whom, Pope : — 

* Hark ! they whisper, angels say, 

Sister spirit, c(yme amoay* 
Again, in Eloisa to Abelard: — 

' Come, sister, come (it said, (n: seem'd to say) ! 

Thy place is here, sad sister, come away V 
* So in Macbeth: — 

' That tears will drown this windJ 

And in the Rape of Lncrece : — 

' This windy tempest, 'till it blow up r^in. 
Holds back his sorrow's tide, to make it more ; 
At last it rainst and busy winds give o'er.' 

' See Yol. i. p. 370, note 1. . The expression has before occurred 
in Act i. Sc. 2, p. 326, of this play. 

N N 2 


Cre^. I true I how now? whatwicked deem ^ is this? 
Tro, Nay, we must use expostulation kindly, 
For it is parting from us : 
I speak not, he thou tme, as fearing thee ; 
For I will throw my glove to death himself^. 
That there's no maculation in thy heart : 
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in 
My sequent protestation ; be thou true, 
And I will see thee. 

Cres. O, you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers 
As infinite as imminent ! but, I'll be true. 

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear 
this sleeve®. 

CreSi And you this glove. When shall I see you ? 

Tro^ I will corrupt the Grecian sentineb^ 
To give thee nightly visitation. 
But yet, be true. 

Cres. O heavens ! — be true again? 

Tro. Hear why I speak it, love; 
The Grecian youths are full of quality ^ ; 
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature 

And swelling o'er with arts and exercise ; 
How novelty may move, and parts with person, 

^ Deem (a word now obsolete) signifies opinionf sunmst. 

^ That isi I will chaUenge death himself in defence of tbj 

® In Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt, a Comedy, 1610, a 
circumstance of a similar kind is ridiculed, in a mock interlade 
wherein Troilns and Cressida are the speakers. I cannot but 
think that it is the elder drama by Decker and Chettle, that is 
the object of this satirical allusion, and not Shakspeare's play, 
which was probably not written when Histriomastix appeared, 
for Queen Elizabeth is complimented under the character of 
Astrea in the last act of that piece, and is spoken of as then 
living. I 

^ i. e. highly accomplished: quality, like condition, is applied 
to manners as well as dispositions. Thus Chapman in his ver- 
sion of the fourteenth Iliad : — 

' Besides all this, he was well-qualitied. 


Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 

(Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin) 

Makes me afeard. 

Cres. O heavens! you love me not. 

Tro. Die I a villain then ! 
In this I do not call your faith in question, 
So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing, 
Nor heel the high lavolt^®, nor, sweeten talk, 
Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all. 
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant : 
But I can tell, that in each grace of these 
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil. 
That tempts most cunningly : but be not tempted. 
Cres. Do you think I will ? 
Tro. No. 
But something may be done, that we will not: 
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves. 
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers. 
Presuming on their changeful potency. 

JEne. [ Within^l Nay, good my lord, 

Tro. Come, kiss ; and let us part. 

Par. [ Within.'] Brother Troilus ! 
Tro. Good brother, come you hither ; 

And biing £neas, and the Grecian, with you. ' 
Cres. My lord, will you be true? 
Tro. Who I ? alas, it is my vice, my fault : 
While others fish with craft for great opinion, 
I with great truth catch mere simplicity ; 
Whilst some with cunning gild their copper crowns. 
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. 
Fear not my truth ; the moral of my wit^^ 
Js — plain, and true, — there's all the reach of it. 

*® The lacoUa was a dance. See King Henrj V. Act iii. So. b, 
Bote 4, p. 462. 

** ' The mora/ of mj wit* is the meaning of it. Thus in The 
Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. Sc. 4 : — ' he has left me behind to 
expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.' See 
vol. ii. p. 176, note 9. 


Enter iENEAs, Paris, Antenor, Deiphobus, 

and DiOMEDES. 

Welcome, Sir Diomed ! here is the lady, 
Which for Antenor we deliver you : 
At the port^^, lotd, I'll give her to .thy hand; 
And, by the way, possess ^^ thee what she is. 
Entreat her fair ; and, by my soul, fair Greek, 
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword. 
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe 
As Priam is in Ilion. 

Dio. Fair ladv Cressid, 

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects : 
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek. 
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed 
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly. 

Tro, Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously. 
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee. 
In praising her ^* : 1 tell thee, lord of Greece, 
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises. 
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. 
I charge thee, use her well, even for ray charge ; 
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not, 
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, 
I'll cut thy throat. 

Dio, O, be not mov'd. Prince Troilus ; 

Let me be privileg'd by my place, and message. 
To be a speaker free ; when I am hence, 

'2 i.- e. the gate. 

'3 i. e. inform. See vol. i. p. 72, aote 5 ; p. 204, note 24. 

^* Troilas apparently means to saj, that Diomed does not nse 
bim conrteonsly by addressing himself to Cressida, and assuring 
her that she shall be well treated for her own sake, and on 
accoont of her singolar beanty, instead of making a direct 
answer to that warm request which Troilus had jnst made to 
him to ' entreat her fair.' The sabsequent words jaatify this 
interpretation : — 

* I charge thee, use her well, even far my charge,* 


Fll answer to. my lust ^*: And kpow you, lord, 
I'll nothing do op charge : To her own worth 
She shall be priz'd; but that you say — be't so, 
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, — no. . 

Tro, Come, to the port. — I tellthee, Diomed, 
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. — 
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk, 
To our own selves bend we our needful talk. 

[^Exeunt Troilus, Cjeiessida, and Diomed: 

\Trumpet heard. 

Par, Hark ! Hector's trumpet. 

JEne. How have we spent this morning ! 

The prince must think me tardy and remiss. 
That swore to ride before him to the field. 

Par, Tis Troilus' fault : Come, come, to field with, 

Dei. Let us make readv straisht. 

me. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity. 
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels : 
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie. 
On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt. 

The Grecian Camp. Lists set out. 

Enter Ajax, armed; Agamemnon, Achilles, 
Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses, Nestor, 
and Others, 

Agam. Here art thou in appointment ^ fresh and 
Anticipating time with starting courage. 
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 

^' i. e. VU answer to mj will or pleasure, according to m j in- 

* i. e. preparation. So in Measure for Measure : — 
' Therefore your best iqfpointment make with speed.' 


Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air 
May pierce the head of the great cotubatanty 
And hale him hither. 

AJ€Lx, Thou, trumpet, there's my purse. 

Now crack thy luugs, and split thy brazeu pipe : 
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias-cheek* 
Outswell the colick of puff'd Aquilon : 
Come, stretch thy chest, aiid let thy eyes spoUt blood ; 
Thou blow^st for Hector. [ Trumpet munds. 

Ulyss, No trumpet answers. 

AckiL 'Tis but early d^ys. 

AgaUi Is not y otl Diomed, with Calchas' daughter ? 

Ulys&. Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; 
He rises on the toe: that spirit of his 
In aspiration lifts him froM the earth. 

Enter Diomed, with Cressida. 

Agam. Is this the lady Cressid? 

IHo, « Even she. 

Agam, Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet 

Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss. 

Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular; 
Twere better she were kiss'd in generaL 

Nest. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. — 
So much for Nestor. 

AchiL I'll take that winter from your lips, fair 
lady : 
Achilles bids you welcome w 

Men. I had good argument for kissing once. 

3 i. e. swelling oat like the bias of a bowl. So in Vittorift 
Corombona, 1612: — 

* — — ^— Faithy his cheek 

Has a most excellent bias.' 
The idea is taken from the paffj cheeks of the wind^ as repfe- 
sented in old prints and maps. 

3C. V. CRESSIDA. 419 

Pair, But that's no argument for kissing now : 
Por thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment; 
And parted thus you and your argument. 

Ulyss, O deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns ! 
For which we lose our heads, to gild his horns. 

Pair. The first was M enelaus' idss ; — this, mine ; 
Patroclus kisses you. 

Men, O, this is trim ! 

Pair* Paris, and I, kiss ever more for him. 

Men. I'll have my kiss, sir : — Lady, by your leave. 

Cre^, In kissing do you render or receive^ ? 

Patr. Both take and give. 

Cres, I'll make my match to li^e ^, 

The kiss you take is better than you give; 
Therefore no kiss. 

Men* I'll give you boot, I'll give you three for one. 

Cres, You're an odd man; give even, or give none^ 

Men, An odd man, lady? every man is odd. 

Cres. No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'tis true, 
That you are odd, and he is even with you. 

Men, You fillip me o'the head. 

Cres, No, I'll be sworn. 

Ulyss, It were no match, your nail against his 
horn. — 
May I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you ? 

Cres, You may. 

Ulyss, I do desire it. 

Cres. Why, beg then. 

Ulyss, Why then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss. 
When Helen is a maid again, and his. 

Cres, I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due. 

' Thus Bassanio, in The Merchant of Venice, when he kisses 
Portia : — 

* Fair lady, by your leave 

I come hy note to give and to receive* 
^ I will make such bargains as I may live by, such as may 
hring me j»rofitf thisrefore will not take a worse kiss than I give. 


Ulyss. Never^s my day, and then a kiss of you. 

Dio. Lady, a word; — I'll bring you to your fa- 
ther. [DioMED leads out Cr£SSII>a^ 

Nest. A woman of quick sense. 

Ulyss, ' Fye, fye upon her I 

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, 
Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits 4ook out 
At every joint and motive^ of her body ^. 
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue. 
That give a coasting welcome ^ ere it comes. 
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
To every ticklish reader*, set them down 
For sluttish spoils of opportunity^, 
And daughters of the game. [ Trumpet within. 

All. The Trojans' ti'umpet. 

Agam. Yonder comes the troop. 

Enter Hector, armed; ^neas, Troilus, and 
other Trojans, with Attendants. 

^ne. Hail, all the state of Greece ! what shall be 

^ Motive for part that contributes to motion. This word is em- 
ployed with some jsingalaritj in All's Well that Ends Well, 
Act iy. Sc. 2 : — 

' As it has fated her to be mj motive 
And helper to a hasband.' 

* One would almost think that Shakspeare had, on this occa- 
sion, been reading St. Chrjsostom, who says: — ' Non loqnata es 
lingna, sed loqnata es gressa ; non loqnata es roce, sed ocalis 
loqnata es clarins qaam Toce :' i. e. * They say nothing with their 
moatbes, they sp^ake in their gaite, they speake with their eyes, 
they speake in the carriage of their bodies. This invectirc 
against a wanton', as well as the translation of it, is from Bnrton's 
Anaitomy of Melancholy, Part ill. Sect. ii< Memb. 2, Subs. 3. 

^ A coasting welcome is a conciliatory welcome : that makes 
silent advances before the tongne has attered a word. So in 
Venns and Adonis : — 

' Anon she hears them chaant it lastely, 
And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.' 

^ i. e. corrupt wenches, of whose chastity every opportunity 
makes an easy prey. 


To him that victory commands ? Or do you purpose, 

A victor shall be known ? will you, the knights 

Shall to the edge of all extremity 

Pursue each other : or shall they be divided 

By any voice or order of the field ? 

Hector bade ask. 

Agam, Which way would Hector have it? 

J^e. He cares not, he'll obey conditions. 

Achii. Tis done like Hector ; but securely ^ done, 
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing 
The knight opposed. 

^ne. If not Achilles, sir, 

What is your name ? 

AchiL If not Achilles, nothing. 

^ne. Therefore Achilles: But, whate'er, know 
this ; — 
In the extremity of great and little. 
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector ; 
The one almost as infinite as all, 
The other blank as nothing ^^. ^Weigh him well. 
And that, which looks like pride, is courtesy. 
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood ^^ : 
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ; 
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek 
This blended knight, half Trojan, and half Greek ^^. 

AchiL A maiden battle then ? — O, I perceive you. 

* ' Securely done,* io the sense of the Latin securus, a negligent 
secaritj. arising from a contempt of the object opposed. 'So in 
the last act of The Spanish Tragedy : — 

' O damned devil, bow secure he is.' 

*® Valour (says iEneas) is in Hector greater than yaloar in 
other men, and pride in Hector is less than pride in other men. 
So that Hector is distingaished by the excellence of having 
pride less than other pride, and valour more than other valour. 

" Ajax and Hector were cousins-gerroan. 

^' Hence Thersites, in a former scene, called Ajax a mongrel. 
See Act ii. Sc. I, note 3, p. 351. 



Re-enter Diomed. 

Agam, Here is Sir Diomed : — Go, gentle knight. 
Stand by our Ajax : as you and Lord .tineas 
Consent upon the order of their fight, 
So be it; either to the uttermost, 
Or else a breath ^^ : the combatants being kin, 
Half stints ^* their strife before their strokes begin. 

[Ajax and Hector enter the lists. 

Ulys8» They are oppos'd already. 

Agam. What Trojan is that same that looks so 
heavy ? 

Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight : 
Not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word; 
Speaking in deeds, and deedless ^^ in his tongue ; 
Not soon provok'd» nor, being provok'd, soon 

calm'd : 
His heart and hand both open, and both free ; 
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows ; 
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty. 
Nor dignifies an impair ^^ thought with breath : 
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ; 
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes ^^ 
To tender objects; but he, in heat of action. 
Is more vindicative than jealous love ; 
They call him Troilus ; and on him erect 
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector. 
Thus ^ys iBneas ; one that knows the youth 

^3 i. e. a breathing, an exercise. See Act ii. Sc. 3, note 13, 
p. 869. 
" Stops. 
'^ No boaster of his own deeds. 

** * An impair thought' is an unworthy or injurious thoaght. 

Thus in Chapman's preface to his Shield of Homer, 1698 : 

' Nor is it more impaire to an honest and absolute man/ &c. 

" i. e. submits, yields. 


Even to his inches, and, with private soul, 
Did in. great Ilion thus translate ^^ bim to me. 

[Alarum, .Hector and Aj ax ^gAf^ 

Agam. They are ill action. 

Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own ! 

Tro, Hector, thou sleep'st ; 

Awake thee ! 

Agam, His blows are well dispos'd : — there, Ajax ! 

Dio. You must no more. [Trumpete eease* 

.^ke. Princes, enough, so please you* 

Ajax^ I am not warm yet, let us fight again. 
. Dio. As Hector pleases. 

Hect. Why then, will I no more: — 

Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, 
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ; 
The obligation of our blood forbids 
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain : 
Were thy commixtion Greek aiid Trojan so. 
That thou could'st say-— !7%es hand U Grecian all. 
And this is Trojan; the sinews of this kg 
All Greek, and this all Troy; my mother^s blood 
Runs on the dexter ^^ cheek, and this sinister^ 
Bounds-in my father's; By Jove multipotent, 
Thou should'st not beatfromme aGreekish member 
Wherein my sword had not impressure made 
Of our rank feud : But the just gods gainsay. 
That any drop.thou borrow'st from thy mother. 
My sacred aunt^^, should by my mortal sword 
Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : 

'® Thus expUun his character. So in Hamlet : — 
' There's matter in these sighs, these profound heaves 
. Yon mast translate,^ 
" Right. - 20 Left. 

^^ It is remarkable that the Greeks give to the atinf, the 
father s siiter, the title of sacredf »/ vphg vrarpog Beia, sometimes 
expressed by ^tla alone. Steevens says, this may lead ns to 
condnde that this play was not the entire composition of Shak- 
speare, to whom the Greoism was probably anknown. 


By him tbat thunders, thou hast lusty arms ; . 
Hector would have them fall upon him thus : 
Cousin, all honour to thee I 

Ajax, I. thank thee, Hector : 

Thou art too gentle, and too. free a man : 
I came to. kill thee, cousin, and bear hence 
A great addition ^^ earned in thy death. 

Hect. Not Nebptolemus^^ so mirable 
(On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O yes 
Cries, This is he) could promise to himself 
A thought of added honour torn from Hector. 

.^ke. There is expectance here from both the sides. 
What further you will do. . 

Hect. We'll answer it«*; 

The issue is embracement: — ^Ajax, farewell. 

Ajax. If I might in entreaties find success 
(As seld I have the chance), I would desire 
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. 

Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish: and great Achilles 
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. 

Hect. ^neas, call my brother Troilus to me : 
And signify this loving interview 
To the expecters of our Trojan part ; 
Desire them home. — Give me thy hand, my cousin; 
T will go eat with thee, and see your knights^. 

» See Act i. Sc. 2, note 5, p. 324. 

^ By N^(^toUmus Shakspeare seems to have meant AchiUes : 
finding that the son was Pjrrhns Neoptolemas, he considered 
Neoptolemas as the nomen gentilitium, and thought the father was 
likewise Achilles Neoptolemas. Or he was probably led into 
the error by some book of the time. By a passage in Act iii. 
Sc. 3, it is evident that he knew Pyrrhas had not yet engaged 
in the siege of Troy : — 

' Bat it mast grieve young Pyrrhas, now at home,' &c. 

^ i. e. answer the expectance.. 

^^ These hnights^ to the amount of about two hundred thoitsand 
(for there were no less in both armies), Shakspeare found with, 
all the appendages of .chivalry in The Old Troy Book. Eques 
and amuger, rendered knight and squirej excite ideas of chivalry. 
Pope, in his Homer, has been liberal in^ his use of the latter. 


Ajax, Great Agamemnon comes to meet ns here; 

Hect, The worthiest of them tell me name byname t 
But for Achilles, my own searching eyes 
Shall find him by his large and portly size* 

Agam. Worthy of arins ! as welcome as to one 
That would be rid of such an enemy; 
But that's no welcome : Understand more dear, 
"What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with 

And formless ruin of oblivion ; 
But in this extant moment, faith and troth, 
Strain'd purely from all hollow bia&-drawing. 
Bids thee^ with most divine integrity^, 
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome^ 

Hect. I thank thee, most imperious ^ Agamemnon. 

Agam. My well-fam'd lord of Troy, no less to you. 


Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's greet- 
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither. 

Hect. Whom niust we answer ? 

Men. ' The noble Menelaus^. 

Hect. O you, my lord? by Mars his gauntlet, 
thanks ! 
Mock not, that I affect the untraded*^ oath; 

^ i. e. integrity like that of heaTen. 

^ It has been asserted that imperious and imperial had for- 
9ierlj the same signification, bat so far is this ft'om being the 
ffiot, that Bullokar carefully distinguishes them : — ' Imperial, 
royal or chief, emperor-like : in^riouSf that commandeth with 
authority, lord-Uke, stately.* The reader will correct the note in 
Tol. i. p. 127. 

^ Ritson thought that this speech belonged to JBneas, and in- 
deed it seems hardly probable that Menelaus would be made to 
call himself ' the noble Menelaus.' 

^ Untraded is uncommon, unusual. So in King Richard II : — 
' Some way of common trade,* for some usual course, or trodden 

O O 2 


Your ^(mdam wife swears still by Venus' glove : 
She's well, but bade me Dot commend her to you. 

Men. Name her not now, sir ; she's a deadly theme. 

HecU O, pardon; I offend. 

Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft. 
Labouring for destiny ^, make cruel way 
Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have seea 

As hot as Perseus ^^, spur thy Phrygian steed. 
Despising many forfeits and subduements, 
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword i'the air. 
Not letting it decline on the declin'd^^; 
That I have said to some my standers-by, 
Xo, Jupiter is yonder ^ dealing life! 
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath. 
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in. 
Like an Olympian wrestling : This have I seen ; 
But this thy countenance, still lock'd in steel, 
I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire ^, 
And once fought Mrith him : he was a soldier good ; 
But, by great Mars, the. captain of us all,. 

90 Destiny is the vicegerent of fate. So in Coriolanas : — 

* His sword, death* s stamp, 

Where it did mark it took ; from face to foot 
He was a thing of biood, whose every motion 
Was tim'd with dying cries : alone he enter'd 
The mortal gate of the city, which he painted 
With shnnless destiny.* 

3* As the equestrian fame of Perseas is here again aHaded to, 
it should appear that in a former simile his horse was meant for 
a real one, and not allegorically for a ship. See Act i. Sc. S, 
note 4, p. 335. 

^ i. e. the fallen. Dr. Yonng appears to have imitated this 
passage in his Bnsiris :-— 

« my r«.'d «rm 

Has hung in aivt forgetful to descend, 
And for a moment spar'd the prostrate foe.' 

^ Laomedon. 

SC. V. CRESSIDA. 427. 

Never like thee : Let au old man embrace thee ; 
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 

JEne. Tis the old Nestor. 

HecU Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle,, 
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time : — 
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. 

Nest. I would, my arms could match thee in con- 
As they contend with thee in courtesy. 

Hect, I would they could. 

Nest. Ha! 
By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow. 
Well, welcome, welcome ! I have seen the time — 

Ulyss, I wonder now how yonder city stands. 
When we\^ave here her base and pillar by us. 

Hect, I know your favour, Lord Ulysses, well. 
Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and Trojan dead, 
Since first I saw yourself and Diomed 
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy. 

Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then, what would ensue: 
My prophecy is but half his journey yet; 
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town. 
Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds ^, 
Must kiss their own feet. 

Hect. I must not believe you : 

There they stand yet ; and modestly I think, 

^ Thus in Shakspeare's Rape of Lncrece : — 

' Threatening cloud-kissing Ilion with anno^,' 
And in Pericles :— 

' -Whose towers bore heads so high, they kissed the clouds.* 
IlioUf according to Shakspeare's authority, was the name of 
Priam's palace, ' that was one of the richest and strongest that 
ever was. in all the world. And it was of height five hondred 
paces, besides the height of the tourers, whereof there was great 
plenty, and so high that it seemed to them that saw them from 
farre, they raughtup unto the heavens.*— 'Destruction of Troy, b. ii. 
p. 478. 


The. fall of every Phrygian stone will cost 
A drop of Grecian blood.: The end crowns ail; 
And that old common arbitrator, time, 
Will one day end it. 

Ulyss. So to him we leave it. 

Most gentle, and most viJiant Hector, welcome : 
After the general, I beseech yon next 
To feast Mrith me, and see me at my tent. 

AchiLI shallforestfidlthee,Lord Ulysses,thou^ ! — 
Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee ; 
I have with exact view perus'd thee. Hector, 
And quot^d^ joint by joint. 

Hect. Is this Achilles? 

Achil, I am Achilles. 

Hect Stand fair, I pray thee: let me look on thee. 

Achil. Behold thy fill. 

Hect. Nay, I have done already* 

AchiL Thou art too brief; I will the second time^ 
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb. 

Hect, O, like a book of sport thou'lt read me o'er ; 
But there'd more in me than thou understand'st. 
Why dost thou so oppress me with Uiine eye? 

Achil, Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his 
Shall I destroy him? whether there, there, of there? 
That I may give the local wound a name; 
And make distinct the very breach whereout 
Hector's great spirit flew : Answer me, heavens ! 

Hect, It would discredit the blessed gods, proud 
To answer such a question : Stand again : 

^ Mr. Tyrwhitt th6aeht we should read :— 

' I shall forestall thee, Lord Ulysses, though V 

^ Quoted is noted, observed. The hint for this scene of 
.altercation between Achilles and Hector is furnished hj Ljrd' 

SC. V. CRESSIDA.i 429 

Think'st thou, to catch .my life so pleasantly^ 
As to prenominate in nice conjecture, 
Where thou wilt hit me dead ? 

AckiL I tell thee, yea. 

Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so, 
I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well ; 
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there ; 
But, by the forge that stithied^^ Mars his helm, 
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. — 
You wisest Grecians, pardon me this brag. 
His insolence draws folly. from my lips; 
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words. 
Or may I never 

Ajax. ; Do hot chafe thee, cousin; — 

And you Achilles, let these threats alone, 
Till accident, or purpose, bring you to't : . 
You may have every day enough of Hector, 
If you have stomach^ ; the general state, I fear. 
Can scarce entreat you to be odd Mrith him. 

Hect, I pray you, let us see you in the field; 
We have had pelting ^^ wars, since you refus'd 
The Grecians' cause. 

AchU. Dost thou entreat me. Hector ? 

To-morrow, do I meet thee, fell as death ; 
To-night, all friends. 

Hect, Thy hand upon that match. 

Agam, First, all you peers of Greece, go to my 
tent ; 

^ A stith is an anvil, a stithy a smith's shop, and hence the 
verh stithied is formed. See Hamlet, Act iii. Sc. 2. 

^ Ajax treats Achilles with contempt, and means to insinuate 
that he was afraid of fighting with Hector. * Yoci may every 
day (says he) have enough of Hector, if you have the inclination ; 
but I believe the whole state of Greece will scarcely prevail on 
you to be at odds with him, to contend with him. 

^' i. e. petty or paltry wars. See vol. ii. p. 239, note 4. 


There in the full convive^ we : afteiwards, 
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall 
Concur together, severally entreat him. — 
Beat loud the tabourines^^, let the trumpets blow. 
That this great soldier may his welcome know. 

[Exeunt all but Troilus and Ulysses. 

Tro. My Lord Ulysses^ tell me, I beseech you. 
In what place, of the field doth Calchas keep ? 

Ufys$» At Menelaus' tent^ most princely Troilus : 
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night; 
Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth. 
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 
On the fair Cressid. 

Tro. Shall I, sweet Idrd, b^ bound to you so much. 
After we. part from Agamemnon's tent, 
To bring me thither ? 

Vlyss. You shall command me, sir. 

As gen^e tell me, of what honour was 
This Cressida in Troy? Had she no lov6r there 
That wails her absence ? 

Tro. O, sir, to such as boasting show their scars, 
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord ? 
She was belov'd, she lov'd; she is, and doth: 
But, still, sweet love is food for foHune's tooth* 


^ A convive is a feast. * The sitting of frieDds together at a 
table, onr anncestors have well called convcvtum, a banket* be- 
caase it is a living of men together.' — Hutton: The word is 
several times used in Heljas the Knight of the SwanAe, blk. 1. 

*^ Small drums. 



SCENE I. nc Grecian Camp, before Achilles' 


Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 

AeML I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to- 
"Which with my scimitar 1*11 cool to-morrow *. — 
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height. 

Pair, Here comes Thersites. 

Enter Theksit^s. 

AchiL How now, thou core of envy ? 

Thou crusty batch ^ of nature, what's the news? 

Tker, Why, thou picture of what thou seemest, 
and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for thee. 

AchU. From whence, fragment ? 

Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy. 

Patr. Who keeps the tent now^? 

Ther. The surgeon's box, or the patient's wound. 

• Patr. Well said. Adversity * ! and what need these 

' Grammar requires ns to read : — 

' With Greekish wiAe to-night I'll heat his blood, 
WhicK &c. 
Otherwise Achilles threatens to cool the wine, instead of Hector'9 

'3 A batch is all that is baked at one time, without heating the 
oven afresh. So Ben Jonson in his Cataline : — 

' Except he were of the same meal and batch,' 
Thersites has alreadj been called a cob-haf. 

^ In his answer Thersites quibbles upon the word tent, 

* Adversity is here used for contrariety. The reply of Ther- 


Ther, Pr'ythee be silent, boy; I profit not by 
thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male 

Pair, Male varlet^, you rogue! what's that? 

Ther, Why, his masculine whore. Now the 
rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, rup^ 
tures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i'the back, lethargies, 
cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt^rotten livers, wheezing 
lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime- 
kilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ach, and the rivelled 
fee- simple of the tetter, take and take again such 
preposterous discoveries ! 

Pair. Why thou damnable box of envy, thoui 
what meanest thou to curse thus? 

Ther, Do I curse thee ? 

Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; you whoreson 
indistinguishable cur^, no. 

Ther, No? why art thou then exasperate, thou 
idle immaterial skein of sleive*^ silk, thou green 
sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prodi- 
gal's purse, thou? Ah, how the poor world is pes- 
tered with such water-flies :: diminutives of nature ° ! 

sites having been studiously adverse to the drift of the question 
urged bj Patroclns. * So in Love's Labour's Lost, the Princess 
addressing Bojet (who had been capriciously employing himself 
to perplex the dialogue), says, ' Avaunt, Perplexity!' 

^ This expression is met. with in Decker's Honest Whore: — 
* 'Tis a maU variety sure, mj lord!' The person spoken of is 
Bellafronte, a harlot, who is introduced in boy's clothes. Man- 
mistress is a term of reproach thrown out by Dorax, in Dryden's 
Don Sebastian. See Professor Heyne's Seventeenth Excursus 
on the first book of the iEneid. 

^ Patroclus reproaches Thersites with deformity, with having 
one part crowded into another. The same idea occors in the 
Second Part of King Henry IV. : — 

' Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form.' 

7 See Macbeth, Act ii. Sc. 2, note 3, p. 246. 

® So Hamlet, speaking of Osrick : — 

* Dost know this water-fly V 


Pair. Out, gall ! 

Ther. Finch egg! 

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quite 
Prom my great purpose in to-morrow's battle. 
Here is a letter from queen Hecuba ; 
A token from her daughter, my fair love^; 
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep 
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it: 
Pall, Greeks ; fail, fame ; honour, or go, or stay. 

My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. 

Come, come, Thersites, help to tr\m my tent; 
This night in banqueting must all be spent. 
Away, Patroclus. 

[Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 

Ther. With too much blood, and too little brain, 
these two may run mad; but if with too much 
brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll be a curer 
of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, — an honest fel- 
low enough, and one that loves quails ^^; but he has 
not so much brain as ear-wax. And the goodly 
transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull, 
— the primitive statue, and oblique memorial of 
cuckolds ^^ ; a thrifty shoeing-hom in a chain, hang- 
ing at his brother's leg, — to what. form, but that 
he is, should wit larded with malice, and malice 
forced^* with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were 
nothing : he is both ass and ox : to an ox were no- 

^ This is a circamstance taken from the old story book of The 
DestractioD of Troy. 

10 By quails are meant %iDomen, and probably those of a looser 
description. ' CailU coeff^e' is a sobriquet for a harlot. Chaud 
comme un caille is a French proverb. The qtuul being remark- 
ably salacious. 

, " He calls Menelaus the transformation of Jupiter, that is, the 
bullf on account of his horns y which are the oblique memorial of 

*' i. e. farced or stuffed. 



thing: he is both ox and ass. To he a dog, a 
mule, a cat, a fitchew^', a toad, a lizard, an owl, a 
puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not 
care : but to be Menelaus, — I would conspire against 
destiny.. Ask me not what I would be, if I were 
not Tliersites ; for I care not to be the louse of a 
lazar, so I were not Menelaus. — HeV'-day ! spirits 
and fires"! J ^ K- 

Enter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamemnon, 
Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, ane^DioMED, 
toith Lights, 

Agam. We go wrong, we go wrong. 
Ajiuc. No, yonder *tis ; 

There, where we see the lights. 

Hect, I trouble you. 

Ajiix. Nq» not a whit. 

Ufys9. Here comes himself to guide you. 

Enter Achilles. 

Achil* Welcome, brave Hector; welcome, princes 

Agam, Sp now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good 

Ajax commands the guaxd to tend on you. 

Hect, Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks' 

Men. Good night, my lord. 
Hect, Good night, sweet lord Menelaus. 

Jlier Sweet draught^*: Sweet, quoth 'a! sweet 
sink, sweet sewer, 

*' A polecat. So in Othello : — ' 'Tis such another fitchew, 
marry a perfamed one.' 

^* This Thersites speaks upon the first sight of thie distant 

*' Draught is the old word for foriea. It is nsed in the trans- 
lation of the Bible, in Holinshed, and by all old writers. 

SC. I. , CRESSIDA. 435 

AchiL Good night. 
And welcome, both to those that go, or tarry. 

Agam. Good night. 

[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus. 

AchiL Old Nestor tarries ; arid you too, Diomed, 
Keep Hector company an hour ot two. 

l>to. I cannot, lord ; I have important business, 
The tide whereof is now. — Goodnight, great Hector. 

Hect. Give me your hand. 

Ulyss, ^ Follow his torch, he goes 

To Calchas' tent; 111 keep you company. 

[Aside to Troilus. 

TVo* Sweet sir, you honour itne. 

Hect, And so good night. 

[Exit DiomEd; Ulysses andl^Roiix^ 

AchiL Come, come, enter my tent. 

[£i;e«n^ Achilles, Hector, Ajax, and 

ner. That same Diomed's a false-hearted rogue, 
a most unjust knave ; I will no more trust him when 
he leers, than I will a serperit when h^ hisses : he 
will spend his mouth, and promise, like Brabler 
the hound ^^; but when he performs, astrorioiriers 
foretell it; it is prodigious ^^, there will come some 
change ; the sun borrows of the moon, when Dio- 
med keeps his word. I will rather leave to see 
Hector, than not to dog him : they say, he keeps a 
Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent: 
I'll after. — Nothing but lechefy I all incontinent 
varlets I [Exit, 


'^ If a honnd gives mouth, and is not upon the scent of the 
game, he is called a babler or brahler. Th6 proverb says, 
* BrahUng cars never want sore ears.' 

*^ PortentoQS, ominons. 




SCENE H. The same. Before Calchas* Tent. 

Enter Diomedes. 

Dio. Wh^t are you up here, ho ? speak. 
Cat. [Within.] Who calls? 
Dio. Diomed. — Calehas, J think, — Where's your 

CaL [ Within.] Shq comes to you. 

Enter Troilus and Ulysses; at a distance; after 

them Thersites. 

Ulyss. Stand Mfhere the torch may not discover us. 

Enter CressidA; 

Tro. Cressid comes forth to him ! 

Dio. How now, my. charge? 

Cres. Now> my sweet guardian ! — Hark ! a word 
with you. [Whispers. 

Tro. Yea, so familiar ! 

Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sight. 

Ther. And any man may sing her, if he ,can take 
her cliflf ^ ; sh^'s noted. 

Dio. Will you remember? 

Cres. Remember? yes. 

. Dio. Nay, but do then ; 

And let your mind be coupled with your words. 

Tro. What should she remember? 

Ulyss. List! 

Cres. ^ Sweet honey Greek, tempt me np more to 

Ther. Roguery ! 

Dio, Nay, then, — 

^ That ia, her key. Clef, Fr. A mark in music at the begin- 
ning of the lines of a song, &c. which indicates the pitch, and 
whether it is saited for a base, treble, or tenor Toice. 


Cres. Ill tell you what : 

IHo. Pho ! pho ! come^ tell a pin : You are for- 
sworn. — 

Cre$. In faith, I cannot : What would you have 
me do? 

Ther. A juggling J;rick, to be — secretly open. 

JMq. What did you swear you would bestow on me ? 

Ores. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath ; 
Bid me do any thing but that, sWeet Greek* 

Dto. Good night. 

Tro. Hold, patience ! 

Uhyss. How now, Trojan ? 

Cre$, DicHned, 

Dio. No, no, good night : I'll be your fool no more. 

Tro. Thy better must. 

Crei. Hark! one word in your ear^ 

Tro, O plague and madness ! 

Ulyss. You are moy'd^ prince; let us depart, I 
pray you. 
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself 
To wrathful terms : this place is dangerous ; 
The time right deadly ; I beseech you, go. 

Tro. Behold, I pray you ! 

Ulyss. Now, good my lord, go off ^ 

You flow to great destruction^; come, my lord. 

Tro. I pr'ythee, stay. 

Ulyss. You hare not patience ; come. 

7Vo. I pray you, stay; by hell, and all hell's tor- 
I will not speak a word. 

Dio. And so, good night. 

Cres. Nay, but you part in anger. 

Tro. Doth that grieve thee? 

O wither'd truth ! 

^ i. e« yoar impetaoslty exposes you to mmiMnt peril. The 
folio reads distraction, i 

P P 2 


Ulyss. Why, how now, lord ! . 

Tro. By-JoYC, 

I will be patient. 
• Cres, Guardian! — why, Greek!. 

Dio. Pho, pho! adieu; you palter^. 

Cres, In faith, I do not; cove hither once again. 

Ulyss, You, shake, my lord, at something; will 
you go? ^ 
You will break out. . 

Tro. She strokes his cheek ! 

Ulyss, Come, come. 

TVo. Nay, stay ; by Jove, I will not speak a word : 
There is between my will and all offences 
A guard of patience: — stay a little "while. 

Ther, How the devil luxury, with his fat rump, 
and potatoe finger^, tickles these together! Fry, 
lechery, f ry ! 
- Dio. But \^ill you then ? 

Cres, In faith, I will, la ; never trust me else. 

' To palter is to equivocaUt to shaffle. Thas in Macbeth,: — 
' Thtit palter with as in a double sense/ 

* Luxuria wiis the appropriate term of the old school divines 
for the sin of incontinence, which is accordingly called luxury by 
fill oqr old English writers. The degrees of this sin and its par- 
titions are ennmerated by Richard Rolle, the Hermit of Ham- 
pole, in his Spfecnlom Vitse, MS. penes me. And Chancer, in 
his Parson's Tale, makes it one of the seven, deadly sins. 
JLuxuryt or lascivionsness, is said to have a pototoe-finger^ be- 
cause that root was thought * to strengthen the bodie^ and procure 
bodily lust.' See toT. i. p. 281 , note 2. Mr. Steevens under his 
Psendonyme of Collins, has brought together a very curious 
string of quotations to show the idea our ancestors entertained of 
this root, and the mode in which it was used by them at its first 
introduction. A clamour has been raised against this note, which 
has been thought to have an immoral tendency. Mr. Pye justly 
censures the violence of the attack, and observes that Wesley, 
in his Journal, also justifies the writer. Surely Wesley would 
not willingly have promoted the cause of immorality ? Whatever 
may be its^ tendency, the subject is certainly singularly curious 
and instructive; 


' Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it. 

Ores, I'll fetch you one. [Exit, 

Ulyss, You have sworn patience. 

Tro, . Fear me not, my lord ; 

I will not be myself, nor have' cognition 
Of what I feel ; I am all patience. 

Re-enter Cressida. 

Ther. Now the pledge ; now, now, now ! 

Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve^. 

Tro. O beauty ! where's thy faith! 

Ulyss. . My lord^^n — -= 

Tro, I will be patient; outwardly I will. . 

Cres. You look upon that sleeve ; Behold it well. — 
He loved me — O false wench! — Give't me again. 

Dio. Who was't? 

Cres. No matter, now I hav't again. 

I will not meet with you to-morrow night : 
I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more. 

Tker. Now she sharpens : — Well said, whetstone. 

Dio. I shall have it. 

Cres. What, this? 

Dio. . Ay, that. 

Cres. O, all you gods !-r— O pretty pretty pledge ! 
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
Of thee, and me; and sighs, and takes my glove. 
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it. 
As I kiss thee. — Nay, do not snatch it from me ; 
He, that takes that, must take my heart withal. 

Dio. I had your heart before, this follows it. 

TVo. I did swear patience. 

* This sUevs was given bj Troilns to Cressida at their part- 
ing, and she gave him a glove in return. It was probably such 
a sleeve as was formerly worn at toorqaments: one of whioh 
Spenser describes in his View of the State of Ireland, p. 43,, 
ed. 1663. 


Cret. You shall not have it, Diomed; 'faith you 
shall not; 
I'll give you something else. 
Dio. I will hare this; Whose was it? 
Cres. Tis no matter. 

Dio. Come, tell me whose it was. 
Cres. Twas one's that loved me better than you 
But, now you have it, take it* 
Dio. Whose was it? 

Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yonder^, 
An^by herself, I will not tell you whose. 

Dio, To-morrow will I wear it on my helm; 
And grieve his spirit that dares not challengie it. 

Tro, Wert thou the devil , and Wor'st it on thy horn» 
It should be challeng'd. 

Cre«* WeH, well, 'tis done, 'tis past, — And yet 
it is not; 
I will not keep my word. 

Dio. Why then, farewell ; 

Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. 

Cres. You shall dot go: — One cannot speak a 
But it straight starts you. 

Dio. I do not like this fooling. 

I%er. Nor I, by Pluto : but that that likes not 
you, pleases me best. 

Dio. What, shall I come? the hour? 
Cres. Ay, come : — O Jove ! — 

Do come:— I shall be plagu'd. 

^ i. e. the stars which she poinU to. 

< The sUveT'Shining quesn he would disdain; 
Hef twinklisg hand-maids too, hj him defil'd, 
Throngh Night's hiaok bosom should not peep again.' 
Milton, in his Elegy r. t. 77, has imitated Shakspeare : — 
' ■ ■ coelo scintillant astra sereno 
Eodjmioneae turba ministra deae.* 

SC. II. CRESSIDA. . .441 

Dio, Farewell till then. 

Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come. — 

[Exit DiOMEDES. 

Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee.; 
But with my heart the other eye doth see 7, 
Ah! poor our sex ! this fault in us I find. 
The error of our eye directs our mind: 
What error leads, must err ; O then conclude, 
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.. 

[Exit Cressida. 

Ther, A proof of strength, she could not publish 
more ®, 
Unless she said. My mind is now turn'd whore. 

Ulyss. All's done, my lord. . 

Tro, It is. 

Ulys$, Why stay we then ? 

7Vo. To make a recordation to my soul 
Of every syllable that here w?is spoke.. 
But, if I tell how these two did co-act, 
Shall J not lie in publishing a truth ? 
Sith yet there is ,a credence in my heart. 
An esperance so obstinately strong, 
That dbth invert the attest of eyes and ears^; 
As if those organs had deceptions functions, 

7 The' characters of Cressida and Pandarns are more imme- 
diatelj formed from Chaucer than from Ljdgate; for though 
the latter mentions them both characteristically, he does not 
'safficientlj dwell on either to have famished Shakspeare with 
many circumstances to be found in this tragedy. Lydgate, 
speaking of Cressida, says only, 

' She gaye her heart and love to Diomede, 
To show what trust there is in womankind ; 

For she of her new love no sooner sped. 
But Troilus was cleane out of her mind. 

As if she never had him known or seen, 
Wherein I cannot guess what she did mean.* 

^ She could not publish a stronger proof. 
^ i. e, turns the very testimony of seeing and hearing against 


Created only to calumniate. 
Was Cressid here ? 

Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan. 

TVo. She was not, sure. 

Ulyss, Most sure she was. 

TVo. Why> my negation hath no taste of madness. 

Ulyss, Noi* niine, my lord : Cressid wad here but 

TVo. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood^® ! 
Think, we had mothers ; do not give advantage 
To stubborn criticks^^ — apt, without a theme. 
For depravation, — to square the general sex 
By Cres^id's rule : rather think this not Cressid. 

Vlyss, What hath she done, prince, that can soil 
our mothers? 

Tro, Nothing at all, unless that this were she. 

Ther, Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes ? 

Tro. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida: 
If beauty have a soul, diis is not she ; 
If souls guide vows, if tows be sanctimonies. 
If sanctimony be the gods' delight. 
If there be rule in unity itself ^^, 
This i^as lolot she. O madness of discourse. 
That cause sets up with and against itself ! 
Bi-fold authority ^^ ! where reason can revolt 

'^ For the sake of womanhood. 

" Critick has here probably the signification of cjmic. So Itk 
Love's Labour's Lost : — 

< Aftd critick Timon langh at idle tojs.' 

So lago sajs in Othello: — 

' I am nothing if not critical* 

*' If it be true that one individual cannot be two distinct 

*' The folio reads * By foul authority/ &c. There is a mad> 
ness in that disquisition, in which a man reasons at onoe for and 
agaxMt himself upon authority which he knoWs not to be vaUd» 
The words loss and perdition, in the subsequent line, are used in 
their common sense; but they mean the loss or perdition of 


Without perdition, and loss assume all reasoa 
Without revolt : this is, and is not, Cressid ! 
Within my soul there doth commence a fight ^^ 
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate ^^ 
Divides more wider than the sky and earth; 
And yet the spacious breadth of this diiosion 
Admits no orifice for a point, a^ subtle 
As Ariachne's^^ broken woof, to enter. 
Instance, O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates ; 
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven : 
Instance, O instance ! strong as heaven itself; 
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loosM ; 
And with another knot, five-finger-tied ^^, 
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love. 
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques 
Of her o^er-eaten faith ^^, are bound to Diomed. 
Ulyss, May worthy Troilus be half attached 
With that which here his passion doth express ^^? 

^* * Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting,* 


^^ i, e. the plighted faith of lovers. Troilas considers it inse- 
parable, or .at least that it ought never to be broken, though he 
has nnfortanatelj found that it sometimes is. 

'* One quarto copy reads AriachAa's ; the other AriatkiuCa ; 
the folio Ariachne's, It is evident Shakspeare intended to make ' 
Arachne a word of four syllables. Our ancestors were not very- 
exact either in writing or pronouncing proper names, even of 
classical origin. Steevens thinks it not improbable that the 
poet may have written ' Ariadne's broken woof,' confounding the 
two stories in hits imagination, or alluding to the clue of thread; 
by the assistance of which Theseus escaped /rom the Cretan 

^"^ A knot tied by giving her hand to Diomed. 

^^ The image is not of the most delicate kind. ' Her o*er^ 
eaten faith ' means her troth plighted to Troilus, of which she 
was surfeited, and, like one who has c?er-eaten himself, bad 
thrown off. So in Twelfth Night : — 

< Their over-greedy love hath surfeited,^ &c. 

^^ ' Can Troilus really feel, on this occasion, half of what he 
utters?' A question suitable to the calm Ulysses. 


Tro. Ay, Greek; and thkt shall be divulged well 
In characters as red as Mars his helart 
Inflain'd with Venus : never did young man fancy ^ 
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul. 
Hark, Greek;T-^As much as I do Ccessid love. 
So much' by weight hate I her Diomed; 
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm ; 
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill. 
My sword should bite it : liot the dreadful spout, 
Which shipmen do the hurricane call^^ 
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun. 
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear 
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword 
Palling on Diomed. 

Ther* He'll tickle it for his concupy ^*. 

Tro, O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false, false, false ! 
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name, 
And they'll seem glorious. 

Ulyss. O, contain yourself; 

Your passion draws ears hither. 

Enter ^neas. 

JEke, I have been seeking you this hour, my lord : 
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy; 
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. 
Tro, Have with you,, prince: — My courteous 
lord, adieu : 
Farewell, revolted fair ! — and, Diomed, 
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head^ ! 


'* And down the shower impetaoasly doth fall 

Like that which men the hurricano caJk* Drayton, 
^ A cant word, formed from ctmcupucence, 

^ i. e. defend fhj bead with armour of more than common 
security. So in The History of Prince Arthur, 1634, c. cI viii. : — 
* Do thou thy best, said Sir Gawaine ; therefore hie thee fast 


Uly9s. I'll bring you to the gates. 

Tro. Accept distracted thanks. 

[Exeuwt Troilus, ^Bneas, and Ulysses. 

Ther, 'Would, I could meet that rogue Diomed ! 
I would croak like a raven ; I would bode, I would 
bode. Patroclus will give me any thing for the 
intelligence of this whore: the parrot will not do 
more for an almond, than he for a commodious 
drab. Lechery, lechery; still, wars and lechery; 
nothing else holds fashion: A burning devil take 
them! [Exit. 

SCENE III. Troy. Before Priam's Palace. 

Enter Hector and Andromache. 
And. When was my lord so much ungently tem- 
To stop his ears against admonishment? 
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. 

Hect. You train me to oflfend you ; get you in : 
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. 

And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous to 

the day ^. 
Hect. No more, I say. 

that thoa wert gone, and wit thoa well we shall soon come after' 

and breake the strongest castle that thoa bast upon thj bead. 

It appears that a kind of dose helmet was called a caath. See 

Titas Andronicas, Act iii. Sc. 1, note 4. 

* The hint for this dream of Andromache might be taken from 

Lydgate, or the following passage of Chaucer's Nonne's Prestes 

tale, V. 16147 :— 

' Lo hire Andromacha, Hectores wif. 
That day that Hector shnlde lese his lif. 
She dremed on the same night beforne, 
How that the lif of Hector shold be lorne, 
If thilke day he went into bataille : 
She warned him, bat it might not availle ; 
He went forth for to tighten natheles. 
And was yslain anon of Achilles.' 

* My dreams of last night will prove ominoas to the day :' fore- 



Enter Cassandra. 

Cos. Where is my brother Hector? 

And, Here, sister; arm'd, and bloody in intent; 
Consort with me in loud and dear petition ^, 
Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dreamed 
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night 
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter. 

Ca$. O, it is true. 

Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound ! 

Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet 

Hed. Begone, I say: the gods have heard me 

Cos. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish^ vows ; 
They are polluted oflferings, more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 

And. O ! be persuaded : Do not count it holy 
To hurt by being just: it is as lawful. 
For we would give much, to use violent thefts*. 
And rob in the behalf of charity. 

Cos. It is the purpose that makes strong the yow; 
But vows to every purpose must not hold : 
Unarm, sweet Hector. 

Hect, Hold you still, I say; 

Mine honour keeps the weather ^ of my fate : 

bode ill to it, and sl^ow that it will be a fatal day to Troj. So 
in the seyenth scene of this act :-~ 

* the quarrel's most ominoas to us.' 

' i. e. earnest anxioss petition. See vol. i. 'p, 382, note 5. 

' Foolish. 

* i. e. to. use violent thefts, frecoiMe we would give mach. In 
the first line of Andromache's speech she allades to a doctrine 
which Sbakspeare has often enforced : — ' Do not joa think joa 
are acting virtaonslj by adhering to an oath, if you have sworn 
to do amiss,* 

^ To keep the voeather is to keep the mnnd or md^mtUufe, Estre 
am dessus du vent is the French proverbial phrase. 


Life every man holds dear; but the dear man^ 
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. — 

Enter Troilus. 

How now, young man? mean'stthou to fight to-day? 

And, Cassandra, jcall my father to persuade. 

[Exit Cassandra. 

Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus ; doff thy harness, 
youth ; 
I am to-day i' the vein of chivalry : 
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong. 
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. 
Unarm thee, go ; and doubt thou not, brave boy, 
I'll stand to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy. 

Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you. 
Which better fits a lion, than a man^, 

Hect, What vice is that, good Troilus ? chide me 
for it. ' 

Tro, When many times the captive Grecians fall. 
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword. 
You bid them rise, and live^. 

^ The dear man is the man ofvorth, 

^ The traditions and stories of the darker ages abounded with 
examples of the lion's generosity. Upon the supposition that 
these acts of clemency were true, Troilus reasons not impro- 
perly, that to spare against reason, by- mere instinct and pity, 
became rather a generous beast than a wise man. We find it 
recorded in Pliny's Natural History, c. 16, that ' the lion alone 
of all wild beasts is gentle to those that homble themselves be- 
fore him, and will not touch any such npon their submission, 
but spareth what creature soever lieth prostrate before him.' 
Hence Spenser's Una, attended by a Lion ; and Perceval's Lion, 
in Morte Arthur, b. xiv. c. 6. 

® Shakspeare seems not to have studied the Homeric cha- 
racter of Hector ; whose disposition was by no means inclined 
to clemency, as we learn from Andromache's speech in the 24th 
Iliad ;— 

' Ov yap fdCKiKO^ Icncc vani/p rtb^ kv dai Xvypij, 

* For thy stern father never spar'd a foe.* Pope. 

* Thy father, boy, bore never into fight 

A milky mind.'— Cowper. 


Hect. O, 'tis fair play. 

7Vo. Fool's play, by heaven. Hector. 

Hect. How now ? how now ? 

Tro, For the love of all the gods. 

Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mother; 
And when we have our armours buckled on, 
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords ; 
Spur them to ruthful work,«rein them from ruth^. 

Hect, Fye, savage, fye ! 

Tro. Hector, then *tis wars. 

Hect, Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day. 

Tro. Who should withhold me ? 
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars 
Beckoning with fiery truncheon ^^ my retire ; 
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees. 
Their eyes o*ergalled with recourse of tears ^^; 
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn, 
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way. 
But by my ruin. 

Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam. 

Cm. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast : 
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay. 
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee. 
Fall all together. 

Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back : 

Thy wife hath dream'd ; thy mother hath had visions ; 
Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself 
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt, 

^ Ruthful is rueful, woful; and ruth is mercy. The words are 
opposed to each other. 

^® Antiqnitj acknowledges no snth ensi^ of command as a 
truncheon. The spirit of the passage, however, is sach as might 
atone for a greater improprietj. 

'^ i. e. tears that continue to comrae each other down the face. 
So in As Yoa Like It : — 

' — — The big round tears 
• Cours'd one another down his innocent nose.' 


To tell thee — ^that this day is ominous : 
Therefore, come back. 

Hect, ^neas is afield; 

And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks, 
Even in the faith of valour, to appear 
This morning to them. 

Pri, Aye, but thou shalt not go. 

Hect, I must not break my faith. 
You know me dutiful; therefore, dear sir, 
Let me not shame respect ^^; but give me leave 
To take that course by your consent and voice. 
Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam. 

Cas, O Priam, yield not to him. 

And» Do not, dear father. 

Hect, Andromache, I am offended with you : 
Upon the love you bear me, get you in. 

[Exit Andromache. 

Tro, This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl. 
Makes all these bodements. 

Cas. O farewell, dear Hector ^^. 

Look, how thou diest ! look, how thy eye turns pale ! 
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents ! 
Hark, how Troy roars ! how Hecuba cries out ! 
How poor Andromache shrills ^* her dolours forth ! 
Behold, destruction^^, frenzy, and amazement. 
Like witless anticks, one another meet, 
And all cry — Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector! 

'^ i. e. disgrace the respect I owe jou, by acting Id opposition 
to jour commands. 

*' The interposition and clamoroas sorrow of Cassandra are 
copied from Lydgate. 

^^ So in Spenser's Epithalataiiam : — 

' Hark how the minstrels gin to shrill aload 
Their merry music/ &c. 

And in Heywood's Silver Age, 1618 : — ■ 

' Through all th' abyss I have shrilVd thy daughter's loss 
With my concave trump.' 
** The folio reads ' distraction.' 

Q Q2 


Tro, Away! — ^Away! 

Cas. Farewell. — ^Yet, soft: — Hector, I take my 
leave : 
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit. 
Hect. You are amazM, my liege, at her exclaim : 
Go in, and cheer the town: we'll forth, and fight; 
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night. 
Pri* Farewell; the gods with safety stand about 

[Exeunt severally Priam and Hector. 
Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, be- 
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. 

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other 

side, Pandarus. 

Pan. Do you hear, my lord ? do you hear ? 

Tro. What now? 

Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl. 

Tro. Let me read. 

Pan. A whoreson ptbick, a whoreson rascally 
ptisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of 
this girl; and what one thing, what another, that 
I ^hall leave you one o' these days: And I have a 
rheum in mine eyes too; and such an ache in my 
bones, that, unless a man were cursed ^^, I cannot 
tell what to think on't. — What says she there ? 
Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter from 
the heart; [Tearing the letter. 

The effect doth operate another way. — 
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change together. — 
My love with words and errors still she feeds ; 
But edifies another with her deeds. 

[Exeunt severally. 

^^ That is, under the influence of a malediction, such as mis- 
chieyons beings have been supposed to pronounce upon those 
who offended them. 



Between Troy and the Grrecian Camp. 

Alarums: Excursions, Enter Thersites. 

TAer.Now they are clapper-clawing one another; 
I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var- 
iety Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting fool- 
ish young knave's sleeve of Troy there, in his helm : 
I would fain see them meet; that that same young 
Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send 
that Greekish whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve, 
back to the dissembling luxurious drab, on a sleeve- 
less errand. O' the other side. The policy of those 
crafty swearing rascals^, — that stale old mouse- 
eaten dry cheese, Nestor; and that same dog-fox, 
Ulysses, — is not proved worth a blackberry: — 
They set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, 
against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles: and 
now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, 
aqd will not arm to-day: whereupon the Grecians 
begin to proclaim barbarism^, and policy grows 
into an ill opinion. Soft ! here comes sleeve, and 

Enter Diomedes, IlRoiiajs following. 

Tro. Fly not; for, shouldst thou take the river 
I would swim after. 

Die, Thou dost miscall retire : 

I do not fly ; but advantageous care 

^ Theobald proposes to read ' sneering rascals ;' which Mason 
thinks more suitable to the characters of Ulysses and Nestor 
than smearing, 

^ To set up the anthoritj of ignorance, and to declare that 
tbej will be governed bj policy no longer. 


Withdrew me from the odds of multitude : 
Have at thee ! 

Ther, Hold thy whore, Grecian ! — now for thy 
whore, Trojan! — now the sleeve, now the sleeve ! 
[Exeunt Troilus and J)iOMEDiRS,^hting. 

Enter Hector. 

Hect. What art thou, Greek? art thou for Hec< 
tor's match? 
Art thou of blood, and honour ^? 

Ther. No, no : — I am a rascal; a scurvy railing 
knave ; a very filthy rogue. 

Hect, I do believe thee : — ^live. [Exit. 

Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me; 
But a plague break thy neck, for frighting me! 
What's become of the wenching rogues? I think, 
they have swallowed one another : I would laugh 
at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself. 
I'll seek them. [Exit. 

^ This is an idea taken from the ancient books of romantic 
ohivalrj, and even from the usage of the poet's age ', as is the 
following one in the speech of Diomedes :-~ 

' And am her knight bj proof.' 
It appears from Segar's Honour, Military and Civil, folio, 1602, 
That a person of superior birth might not be challenged bj an 
inferior, or if challenged might refuse combat. Alluding to this 
circumstance, Cleopatra says : — 

' These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 

A meaner than myself.' Ant, and Cleop. 

We learn from Melvil's Memoirs, p. 165, ed. 1735, ' the laird 
of Grange offered to fight Bothwell, who answered that he was 
neither earl nor lord, but a baron ; and so was not his equal. 
The like answer made he to Talliba^dine. Then my Lord Lind- 
say offered to fight him, which he could not well refuse ; but his 
heart failed him, and he grew cold on the business.' These 
punctilios are well ridiculed in Albnmazar, Act iy. Sc. 7. 


SCENE V. The same. 

Enter Diomedes and a Servant. 

IHo, Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus' horse ' ; 
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid : 
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ; 
Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan, 
And am her knight by proof. 

Serv, I go, my lord. 

[Exit Servant. 

Enter Agamemnon. 

Agam. Renew, renew ! The fierce Polydan^as 
Hath beat down Menon : bastard Margarelon 
Hath Doreus prisoner : 
And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam^. 
Upon the pashed^ corses of the kings 
Epistrophus and Cedius : Polixenes is slain ; 
Amphimachus, and Thoas, deadly hurt; 
Patroclus ta'en, or slain ; and Palamedes 
Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary^ 
Appals our numbers ; haste we, Diomed, 
To reinforcement, or we perish all. 

' This circumstance is taken from Lydgate, as is the intro- 
duction of a bastard son of Priam under the name of Margarelon. 
The latter is also in the Old History of the Destruction of Troy. 

^ i. e. his lance, like a weaver's beam ; as Goliath's spear is 
described. So in Spenser'a Faerie Queene, b. iii. yii. 40 : — 
' All were the heame in bigness like a mast.' 

' Bruised, crushed. See Act ii. Sc. 3, note 24» p. 373. 

* * A meryayllous beaste^ that was called Sagittayre, that be- 
bynde the myddes was an horse, and to fore, a man : this beste 
was heery like an horse, and shotte well with a bowe : this beste 
made the Grekes sore aferde, and slewe many of them with his 
bowe.' — Destruction of Troy, by Caxton, 

A more circumstantial account of this Sagittary is to be found 
in Lydgate. 


Enter Nestor. 

Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles ; 
And bid the snail-pac*d Ajax arm for shame. — 
There is a thousand Hectors in the field : 
Now here he tights on Galathe his horse, 
And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot. 
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls^ 
Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder, 
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, 
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath : 
Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and takes ; 

^ i. e. dispersed shoals; ' A scull of fishes : examen rel agmen 
piscinm' (Baret)j was also in more ancient times written ' a 
scoohy as in Horman's Volgaria, 1519, which is nearer to its 
Saxon original f cole, and its modern derivative shoaL The word 
was not confined to a multitude, or throng of fishes alone ; for 
Drant, in the Epistle to the Reader, prefixed to his translation 
of Horace, has ' so greate a scuU of amarouse pUmphlets.' And 
in the Boke of St. Albans, among the Companjes of Bestes, we 
find a skull of monks as well as of fishes. Lyij, in his Midas, 
has made a humorous misapplication of it : — ' He hath, bj this, 
started a covey of bucks, or roused a scvill of pheasants.' Dray- 
ton uses it in his Polyolbion, Song XXVI. :— 

' My silver-scaled sctds about my streams do sweep.' 

And Milton, in Paradise Lost, b. vii. v. 399 : — 

' u—- each bay 

With fry innumerable swarms, and shoals 
Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales 
Glide under the green wave, in scuUs that oft 
Bank the mid sea.' 

Scaled is separated. As in Holinshed, vol. ii. p. 499, where, 
speaking of the retreat of the Welshmen during the absence of 
Richard II. he says, ' They would no longer abide, but scaled 
and departed away.' So Gawin Douglas, in the fourth book of 
Virgil's JSneis : — 

' The Tjrriane menye shaUs wyde quhare. 

And all the gallandis of Troy fled here and there.' 
Homer compares Achilles to a dolphin driving other fishet be- 
fore him : — 

'Qc ^vvb Si\<fivo£ luyoKriTtog licQvtg dXXot 

^evyovT6£y &c. 


Dexterity so obeying appetite, 

That what he will, he does ; and does so much. 

That proof is call'd impossibility. 

Enter Ulysses. 

t//y«s.O,courage, courage, princes ! great Achilles 
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance : 
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood, 
Together with his mangled myrmidons. 
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come 

to him. 
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend, 
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd, and at it, 
Roaring for Troilus ; who hath done to-day 
Mad and fantastic execution ; 
Engaging and redeeming of himself, 
With such a careless force, and forceless care. 
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning. 
Bade him win all. 

Enter Ajax. 

Ajax, Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! [Exit. 
Dio, Ay, there, there. 

Nest. So, so, we draw together ^, 

Enter Achilles. 

AchiL Where is this Hector? 

Come, come, thou boy-queller^, show thy face; 
Know what jt is to meet Achilles angry. 
Hector! where's Hector? I will none but Hector. 


^ This remark seems to 1)e made bj Nestor, in consequence 
of the return of Ajax to the field, he haying lately refused to 
cooperate or draw together with the Greeks, though at present 
he is roused from his sullen fit by the loss of a friend. 

^ i. e. murderer of boys. So in King Henry IV. Part ll.^ Act ii. 
Sc. 1 :— 

' A msLB-queUer and a womtiXt-^uellerJ 


SCENE VI. Amther part of the Field. 

Enter AjAx. 

Ajax, Troilus^ thou coward Troilus> show thy 
head ! 

Enter Diomedes. 

Dio, Troilus, I say ! where's Troilus ? 
Ajax. What would'st thou ? 

Dio. I would correct him. 
Ajax, Were I the general, thou should'st have 
my office 
Ere that correction : — ^Troilus, I say ! what, Troilus ! 

JBtt^cr Troilus. 

TVo. O traitor Diomed ! — turn thy false face, thou 

And pay thy Ufe thou ow'st me for my horse ! 
Dto. Ha! art thou there ? 
Ajax. Ill fight with him alone : stand, Diomed. 
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon^. 
Tro. Come both, you cogging^ Greeks; have at 

you both. [Exeunt f fighting. 

Enter Hector. 

Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, my young- 
est brother ! 

I That is, as we should now saj, I will not be a looker on* 
^ The poet had heard of Gracia mendax, Diomedes had de- 
frauded him of his mistress, and he bestows the epithet on both, 
unius oh culpam, Cicero bears witness to this character of the 
ancient Greeks : — ' Testimoniomm religionem et fidem nnnqaam 
ista natio colait.' And again : — ' Griecoram ingenia ad fdHen- 
dium parata sunt' 


• Enter Achilles. 

Achil, Now do I see thee ; Ha ! — Have at thee, 

Hect, Pause, if thou wilt. 

Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proud Trojan. 
Be happy, that my arms are out of use : 
My rest and negligence befriend thee now, 
But thou anon shalt hear of me again ; 
Till when, go seek thy fortune. \^Exit. 

Hect. Fare thee well : — 

I would have been much more a fresher man, 
Had I expected thee. — How now, my brother? 

Re-enter Troilus. 

Tro, Ajax hath ta'en JEneas; Shall it be? 
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven. 
He shall not carry him ^ ; I'll be taken, too, ^ 
Or bring him off: — Fate, hear me what I say! 
I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Exit, 

Enter One in sumptumis Armour. 

Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek; thou art a 
goodly mark : — 
No? wilt thou not? — I like thy armour well* ; 
I'll frush^ it, and unlock the rivets all, 
But I'll be master of it : — Wilt thou not, beast, abide ? 
Why then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. 


^ i.e. prevail over him. So in AlFs Well that Ends Well: — 
' The ooont he woos your daughter. 
Resolves to carry her J 
* This circumstance is also taken from Ljd gate's poem, who 
furnished Shakspeare with the hint for the following line :— 
* I am unarmed ; forego this vantage, Greek.' 
^ To frwih is to break or bruise. So in the Destruction of 
Troy: — ' Saying these words, Hercules ' caught by the head 
poor Lychas — and threw him against a rooke so fiercely that he 
to-f rushed and all to-burst his .bones, and so slew him.' 


A I 


SCENE VII. The same. 

Enter Achilles, with Myrmidons. 

AchiL Come here about me, you my Myrmidons ; 
Mark what I say. — Attend me where I wheel: 
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath ; 
And when I have the bloody Hector found. 
Empale him with your weapons round about; 
In fellest manner execute^ your arms. 
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye ! 
It is decreed — Hector the great must die. \_Exeunt, 

SCENE VIII. The same. 

Enter Menelaus and VAnis,jfighting; then 


Ther. The cuckold, and the cuckold-maker are 
at it: Now, bull! now dog! 'Loo, Paris, *loo! 
now my double-henned sparrow ! 'loo, Paris, 'loo ! 
The bull has the game : — 'ware horns, ho ! 

[Exeunt Paris and Menelaus. 

Enter Margarelon. 

Mar. Turn, slave, and fight. 

Ther. What art thou? 

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. 

Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards^: I 
am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in 
mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate. 

^ To execute their arms is to employ them, to put them to use. 
So in Xjore's Liaboar's Lost, Rosaline sajs to Biroo: — 
' Full of comparisons and wounding flouts. 
Which joa on all estates will execute.* 

* Bastord, in ancient times* was not a disreputable ^ipeU»* 
tion. See King Henrj VI. Part 1. Act i« So. 2, note 5, p. 16. 


One bear will not bite another, and wherefore 
should one bastard ? Take heed, the quarrel's most 
ominous to us: if the son of a whore fight for a 
whore, he tempts judgment : Farewell, bastard. 
Mar, The^devil take thee, coward! [^Exeant. 

SCENE IX. Another part of the Field. 

Enter Hector. 

Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without. 
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. 
Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath : 
Kest, sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and death ! 
[Puts off his helmety and hangs his shield 
behind him. 

Enter Achilles and Myrmidons. 

AchiL Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set; 
How. ugly night comes breathing at his heels: 
Even with the vail^ and dark'ning of the sun, 
To close the day up. Hector's life is done. 

Hect. I am unarm'd ; forego this vantage, Greek« 

Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I 

seek^. [Hi&CTOB. falls. 

^ 'The vail of the sun' is the sinking, setting, or vailing of 
the snn. 

^ Hejwood, in his Rape of Lncrece, 1638, gives the same 
account of Achilles overpowering Hector by numbers :— - 

' ' Had pnissant Hector by Achilles' hand 
Dy'd in a single monomachie, Achilles 
Had been worthy ; but being slain by odds, 
The poorest myrmidon had as much honour 
As faint Achilles in the Trojan's death.' 

In Lydgate and the old story book the same account is given 
of the death of Troilns. Lydgate, following Gnido of Colonna» 
who in the grossest manner has violated all the characters drawn 


So> IlioH, fall thou n^xt ! now, Troy, sink down : 
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. — 
On, Myrmidons ; and cry you all amain, 
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. 

[A Retreat sounded^ 
Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part. 

Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord. 

AchiL The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the 
And, stickler^ like, the armies separates. 
My half-supp*d sword, that frankly would have fed, 
Pleas'd with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed. — 

[Sheaths his sword. 
Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ; 
Along the field I will the Trojan trail. [Exeunt. 

SCENE X. The same. 

Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, Nes- 
tor, DiOMEDES, and Others, marching. Shoots 

, Agam. Hark! hark! what shout is that? 
Nest. Peace, drums. 

by Homer, reprehends the Grecian poet as the original offender. 

Thus in his fourth l^ook : — 

' Oh, thou Homer, for shame be now red, 
And thee amase that boldest thyself so wyse. 
On Achylles to set suche great a pryse 
In thy bokes for his chiyalrye, 
Aboye echone that dost hym magnyfye. 
That was so sleyghty and so fall of frande, 
Why geyest thon hym so bye a prayse and laude ? 

^ Stkikrs were persons who attended npon combatants in 
trials of skill, to part them when they had fonght enough, and, 
doubtless, to see fair play. They ^ere probably so called from 
the stici or wand which Uiey carried in their hands. The name 
is still giren to the arbitrators at wrestling matches in the west 


[Within.] Achilles! 

Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles ! 

Dio. The bruit is — Hector's slain, and by Achilles. 

Ajax, If it be so, yet bragless let it be ; 
Great Hector was as good a man as he. 

Agam. March patiently along: — Let one be sent 
To pray Achilles see us at our tent. — 
If in his death the gods have us befriended. 
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended. 

[Exeunt, marching, 

SCENE XI. Another part of the Field. 

Enter ^NEAS and Trojans. 

.^ne. Stand, ho ! yet are we masters of the field : 
Never go home ; here starve we out the night. 

Enter Troilus. 

Tro. Hector is slain. 

All. Hector?— The gods forbid I 

Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's tail. 
In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful field. — 
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed ! 
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile ^ at Troy! 
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy. 
And linger not our sure destructions on ! 

j^e. My lord, you do discomfort all the host* 
Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so ; 
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ; 
But dare all imminence, that gods and men. 
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone ! 
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? 

* Hanmer and WarburtoD read : — 

* smite at Troy ;' 

which, it mnst be confessed, is more in correspondence with the 
rest of Troilas's wish. 


Let him, that will a screech>owl aye be call'd, 

Go in to Troy, and say there — Hector's dead : 

There is a word will Priam turn to stone ; 

Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives. 

Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word. 

Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away : 

Hector is dead ; there is no more to say. 

Stay yet; — You vile abominable tents. 

Thus ^oudly pight^ upon our Phrygian plains. 

Let Titan rise as early as he dare, 

I'll through and through you! — ^And thou, great- 

siz'd coward ! 
No space of eaith shall sunder our two hates ; 
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still. 
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts. — 
Strike a free march to Troy !— ^with comfort go : 
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. . 

[Exeunt JBnbas and Trojans. 

As Troilus is going out, enter, from the other nde, 


Pan. But hear you, hear you ! 

TVo, Hence, broker ^ lackey ! ignomy* and shame 
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name ! 

[Exit Troilus. 

Pan. A goodly med'cine for my aching bones ! — 
O world! world! world! thus is the poor agent 
despised ! O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are 
you set a' work, and how ill requited ! Why should 
our endeavour be so loved, and the performance so 

3 Pitched, fixed. 

^ Broker anciently signified a bawd of either sex. So in King 
John : — 

' This bawd, this broker , this all changing word,' &c. 

* Ignominy. 


loathed? what verse for it? what instance for it? — 
Let me see: — 

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing. 
Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting : 
And being once subdued in armed tail^ 
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. — 

Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted 
cloths ^. 

As many as be here of pander's hall, 
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall : 
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans. 
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones. 
Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade. 
Some two months hence my will shall here be made : 
It should be now, but that my fear is this, — 
Some galled goose of Winchester ^ would hiss : 
Till then I'll sweat ''^y and seek about for eases; 
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. 


^ Canvass hangings for ?oom8, painted with emblems and mot- 
toes. See Tol. iii. p. 164, note 29. 
* See King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3, note 8, p. 23. 
^ See voL ii. p. 11, note 4. 


This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's 
compositions, bat it is not one of those in which either the ex- 
tent of his views or elevation of his fancy is folly displayed. As 
the story aboanded with materials, he has exerted little inven- 
tion ; bat he has diversified his characters with great variety, 
and preserved them with great exactness. His vicioas cha- 
racters disgust, bat cannot oorrapt, for both Cressida and Pan- 
darns are detested and contemned. The comick characters seem 
to have been the favourites of the writer: they are of the super- 
ficial kind, and exhibit more of manners than nature ; bat they 
are copiously filled and powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has 
in his story followed, for the greater part, the old book of Cax- 
ton, which was then very popaHr ; but the character of Ther- 
sites, of which it makes no meaUon, is a proof that this play was 
written after Chapman had published his version of Homer*. 


* It should, however, be remembered that Thersites had been 
long in possession of the stage in an Interlude bearing his name. 

* The first seven books of Chapman's Ifomer were published 
in 1596, and again in 1598, twelve books not long afterward, 
and the whole twenty-four books at latest in 1611. The clas- 
sical reader may be surprised that Shakspeare, having had the 
means of being acquainted with the great father of poetry 
through the medium of Chapman's translation, should not have 
availed himself of such an original instead of the Troy Booke ; 
but it should be recollected that it was his object as a writer 
for the stage to coincide with the feelings and prejudices of his 
audience, who, believing themselves to have drawn their descent 
from Troy, would by no means have been pleased to be told 
that Achilles was a braver man than Hector. They were ready 
to thiiik well of the Trojans as their ancestors, but not very 
anxious about knowing their history with much correctness; 
and Shakspeare might have applied to worse soarces of infor- 
mation than even Lydgate.' — Boswell. 


C. and C. Wblttingham, College Honse, Cbiswick.