Datasets:

Israhassan

/

Shakespeare

like 0

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Taming of the Shrew, by William ShakespeareThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States andmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww. gutenberg. org. If you are not located in the United States, youwill have to check the laws of the country where you are located beforeusing this eBook. Title: The Taming of the ShrewAuthor: William ShakespeareRelease Date: October 1998 [eBook #1508][Most recently updated: September 14, 2022]Language: EnglishProduced by: the PG Shakespeare Team, a team of about twenty Project Gutenberg volunteers*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TAMING OF THE SHREW ***THE TAMING OF THE SHREWby William ShakespeareContentsINDUCTIONScene I. Before an alehouse on a heath. Scene II. A bedchamber in the LORD’S house. ACT IScene I. Padua. A public place. Scene II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO’S house. ACT IIScene I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTA’S house. ACT IIIScene I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTA’S house. Scene II. The same. Before BAPTISTA’S house. ACT IVScene I. A hall in PETRUCHIO’S country house. Scene II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA’S house. Scene III. A room in PETRUCHIO’S house. Scene IV. Before BAPTISTA’S house. Scene V. A public road. ACT VScene I. Padua. Before LUCENTIO’S house. Scene II. A room in LUCENTIO’S house. Dramatis PersonæPersons in the InductionA LORDCHRISTOPHER SLY, a tinkerHOSTESSPAGEPLAYERSHUNTSMENSERVANTSBAPTISTA MINOLA, a rich gentleman of PaduaVINCENTIO, an old gentleman of PisaLUCENTIO, son to Vincentio; in love with BiancaPETRUCHIO, a gentleman of Verona; suitor to KatherinaSuitors to BiancaGREMIOHORTENSIOServants to LucentioTRANIOBIONDELLOServants to PetruchioGRUMIOCURTISPEDANT, set up to personate VincentioDaughters to BaptistaKATHERINA, the shrewBIANCAWIDOWTailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and PetruchioSCENE: Sometimes in Padua, and sometimes in PETRUCHIO’S house inthe country. INDUCTIONSCENE I. Before an alehouse on a heath. Enter Hostess and SlySLY. I’ll pheeze you, in faith. HOSTESS. A pair of stocks, you rogue! SLY. Y’are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues; look in thechronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucaspallabris; let the world slide. Sessa! HOSTESS. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? SLY. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bedand warm thee. HOSTESS. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough. [Exit]SLY. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I’ll answer him by law. I’ll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly. [Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. ]Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. LORD. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds;Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss’d,And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth’d brach. Saw’st thou not, boy, how Silver made it goodAt the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. FIRST HUNTSMAN. Why, Bellman is as good as he, my lord;He cried upon it at the merest loss,And twice today pick’d out the dullest scent;Trust me, I take him for the better dog. LORD. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,I would esteem him worth a dozen such. But sup them well, and look unto them all;Tomorrow I intend to hunt again. FIRST HUNTSMAN. I will, my lord. LORD. [ Sees Sly. ] What’s here? One dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? SECOND HUNTSMAN. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm’d with ale,This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. LORD. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey’d to bed,Wrapp’d in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,A most delicious banquet by his bed,And brave attendants near him when he wakes,Would not the beggar then forget himself? FIRST HUNTSMAN. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. SECOND HUNTSMAN. It would seem strange unto him when he wak’d. LORD. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jest. Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,And hang it round with all my wanton pictures;Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters,And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet. Procure me music ready when he wakes,To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,And with a low submissive reverenceSay ‘What is it your honour will command? ’Let one attend him with a silver basinFull of rose-water and bestrew’d with flowers;Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,And say ‘Will’t please your lordship cool your hands? ’Someone be ready with a costly suit,And ask him what apparel he will wear;Another tell him of his hounds and horse,And that his lady mourns at his disease. Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;And, when he says he is—say that he dreams,For he is nothing but a mighty lord. This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs;It will be pastime passing excellent,If it be husbanded with modesty. FIRST HUNTSMAN. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,As he shall think by our true diligence,He is no less than what we say he is. LORD. Take him up gently, and to bed with him,And each one to his office when he wakes. [Sly is bourne out. A trumpet sounds. ]Sirrah, go see what trumpet ’tis that sounds:[Exit Servant. ]Belike some noble gentleman that means,Travelling some journey, to repose him here. Re-enter Servant. How now! who is it? SERVANT. An it please your honour, playersThat offer service to your lordship. LORD. Bid them come near. Enter Players. Now, fellows, you are welcome. PLAYERS. We thank your honour. LORD. Do you intend to stay with me tonight? PLAYER. So please your lordship to accept our duty. LORD. With all my heart. This fellow I rememberSince once he play’d a farmer’s eldest son;’Twas where you woo’d the gentlewoman so well. I have forgot your name; but, sure, that partWas aptly fitted and naturally perform’d. PLAYER. I think ’twas Soto that your honour means. LORD. ’Tis very true; thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time,The rather for I have some sport in handWherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play tonight;But I am doubtful of your modesties,Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour,—For yet his honour never heard a play,—You break into some merry passionAnd so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,If you should smile, he grows impatient. PLAYER. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,Were he the veriest antick in the world. LORD. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,And give them friendly welcome everyone:Let them want nothing that my house affords. [Exit one with the Players. ]Sirrah, go you to Barthol’mew my page,And see him dress’d in all suits like a lady;That done, conduct him to the drunkard’s chamber,And call him ‘madam,’ do him obeisance. Tell him from me—as he will win my love,—He bear himself with honourable action,Such as he hath observ’d in noble ladiesUnto their lords, by them accomplished;Such duty to the drunkard let him do,With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,And say ‘What is’t your honour will command,Wherein your lady and your humble wifeMay show her duty and make known her love? ’And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,And with declining head into his bosom,Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy’dTo see her noble lord restor’d to health,Who for this seven years hath esteemed himNo better than a poor and loathsome beggar. And if the boy have not a woman’s giftTo rain a shower of commanded tears,An onion will do well for such a shift,Which, in a napkin being close convey’d,Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. See this dispatch’d with all the haste thou canst;Anon I’ll give thee more instructions. [Exit Servant. ]I know the boy will well usurp the grace,Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman;I long to hear him call the drunkard husband;And how my men will stay themselves from laughterWhen they do homage to this simple peasant.

I’ll in to counsel them; haply my presenceMay well abate the over-merry spleen,Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt. ]SCENE II. A bedchamber in the LORD’S house. Sly is discovered in a rich nightgown, with Attendants: some withapparel, basin, ewer, and other appurtenances; and Lord, dressedlike a servant. SLY. For God’s sake! a pot of small ale. FIRST SERVANT. Will’t please your lordship drink a cup of sack? SECOND SERVANT. Will’t please your honour taste of these conserves? THIRD SERVANT. What raiment will your honour wear today? SLY. I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour nor lordship. Ine’er drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves,give me conserves of beef. Ne’er ask me what raiment I’ll wear,for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings thanlegs, nor no more shoes than feet: nay, sometime more feet thanshoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather. LORD. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man of such descent,Of such possessions, and so high esteem,Should be infused with so foul a spirit! SLY. What! would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, oldSly’s son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedlar, by education acardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by presentprofession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife ofWincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence onthe score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave inChristendom. What! I am not bestraught. Here’s—THIRD SERVANT. O! this it is that makes your lady mourn. SECOND SERVANT. O! this is it that makes your servants droop. LORD. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. Look how thy servants do attend on thee,Each in his office ready at thy beck:Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays,[Music. ]And twenty caged nightingales do sing:Or wilt thou sleep? We’ll have thee to a couchSofter and sweeter than the lustful bedOn purpose trimm’d up for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walk: we will bestrew the ground:Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapp’d,Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer themAnd fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. FIRST SERVANT. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swiftAs breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe. SECOND SERVANT. Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straightAdonis painted by a running brook,And Cytherea all in sedges hid,Which seem to move and wanton with her breathEven as the waving sedges play with wind. LORD. We’ll show thee Io as she was a maidAnd how she was beguiled and surpris’d,As lively painted as the deed was done. THIRD SERVANT. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleedsAnd at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. LORD. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:Thou hast a lady far more beautifulThan any woman in this waning age. FIRST SERVANT. And, till the tears that she hath shed for theeLike envious floods o’er-run her lovely face,She was the fairest creature in the world;And yet she is inferior to none. SLY. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? Or do I dream? Or have I dream’d till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:Upon my life, I am a lord indeed;And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;And once again, a pot o’ the smallest ale. SECOND SERVANT. Will’t please your mightiness to wash your hands? [Servants present a ewer, basin and napkin. ]O, how we joy to see your wit restor’d! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream,Or, when you wak’d, so wak’d as if you slept. SLY. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? FIRST SERVANT. O! yes, my lord, but very idle words;For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door,And rail upon the hostess of the house,And say you would present her at the leet,Because she brought stone jugs and no seal’d quarts. Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. SLY. Ay, the woman’s maid of the house. THIRD SERVANT. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,Nor no such men as you have reckon’d up,As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell;And twenty more such names and men as these,Which never were, nor no man ever saw. SLY. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! ALL. Amen. Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants. SLY. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. PAGE. How fares my noble lord? SLY. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? PAGE. Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her? SLY. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband? My men should call me lord: I am your goodman. PAGE. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;I am your wife in all obedience. SLY. I know it well. What must I call her? LORD. Madam. SLY. Alice madam, or Joan madam? LORD. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies. SLY. Madam wife, they say that I have dream’dAnd slept above some fifteen year or more. PAGE. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,Being all this time abandon’d from your bed. SLY. ’Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone. Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. PAGE. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of youTo pardon me yet for a night or two;Or, if not so, until the sun be set:For your physicians have expressly charg’d,In peril to incur your former malady,That I should yet absent me from your bed:I hope this reason stands for my excuse. SLY. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long; but I wouldbe loath to fall into my dreams again: I will therefore tarry indespite of the flesh and the blood. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. Your honour’s players, hearing your amendment,Are come to play a pleasant comedy;For so your doctors hold it very meet,Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:Therefore they thought it good you hear a play,And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. SLY. Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a commonty aChristmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? PAGE. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. SLY. What! household stuff? PAGE. It is a kind of history. SLY. Well, we’ll see’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and letthe world slip: we shall ne’er be younger. ACT ISCENE I. Padua. A public place. Flourish. Enter Lucentio and Tranio. LUCENTIO.

Tranio, since for the great desire I hadTo see fair Padua, nursery of arts,I am arriv’d for fruitful Lombardy,The pleasant garden of great Italy,And by my father’s love and leave am arm’dWith his good will and thy good company,My trusty servant well approv’d in all,Here let us breathe, and haply instituteA course of learning and ingenious studies. Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,Gave me my being and my father first,A merchant of great traffic through the world,Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii. Vincentio’s son, brought up in Florence,It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv’d,To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,Virtue and that part of philosophyWill I apply that treats of happinessBy virtue specially to be achiev’d. Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa leftAnd am to Padua come as he that leavesA shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. TRANIO. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine;I am in all affected as yourself;Glad that you thus continue your resolveTo suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. Only, good master, while we do admireThis virtue and this moral discipline,Let’s be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray;Or so devote to Aristotle’s checksAs Ovid be an outcast quite abjur’d. Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,And practise rhetoric in your common talk;Music and poesy use to quicken you;The mathematics and the metaphysics,Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you:No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en;In brief, sir, study what you most affect. LUCENTIO. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,We could at once put us in readiness,And take a lodging fit to entertainSuch friends as time in Padua shall beget. But stay awhile; what company is this? TRANIO. Master, some show to welcome us to town. [Lucentio and Tranio stand aside. ]Enter Baptista, Katherina, Bianca, Gremio and Hortensio. BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,For how I firmly am resolv’d you know;That is, not to bestow my youngest daughterBefore I have a husband for the elder. If either of you both love Katherina,Because I know you well and love you well,Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. GREMIO. To cart her rather: she’s too rough for me. There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? KATHERINA. [To Baptista] I pray you, sir, is it your willTo make a stale of me amongst these mates? HORTENSIO. Mates, maid! How mean you that? No mates for you,Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. KATHERINA. I’ faith, sir, you shall never need to fear;I wis it is not half way to her heart;But if it were, doubt not her care should beTo comb your noddle with a three-legg’d stool,And paint your face, and use you like a fool. HORTENSIO. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us! GREMIO. And me, too, good Lord! TRANIO. Husht, master! Here’s some good pastime toward:That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. LUCENTIO. But in the other’s silence do I seeMaid’s mild behaviour and sobriety. Peace, Tranio! TRANIO. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, that I may soon make goodWhat I have said,—Bianca, get you in:And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,For I will love thee ne’er the less, my girl. KATHERINA. A pretty peat! it is best put finger in the eye, and she knew why. BIANCA. Sister, content you in my discontent. Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:My books and instruments shall be my company,On them to look, and practise by myself. LUCENTIO. Hark, Tranio! thou mayst hear Minerva speak. HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? Sorry am I that our good will effectsBianca’s grief. GREMIO. Why will you mew her up,Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,And make her bear the penance of her tongue? BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv’d. Go in, Bianca. [Exit Bianca. ]And for I know she taketh most delightIn music, instruments, and poetry,Schoolmasters will I keep within my houseFit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such,Prefer them hither; for to cunning menI will be very kind, and liberalTo mine own children in good bringing up;And so, farewell. Katherina, you may stay;For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit. ]KATHERINA. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What! shall I be appointed hours, asthough, belike, I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha! [Exit. ]GREMIO. You may go to the devil’s dam: your gifts are so goodhere’s none will hold you. Their love is not so great,Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairlyout; our cake’s dough on both sides. Farewell: yet, for the love Ibear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man toteach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to herfather. HORTENSIO. So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. Thoughthe nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parle, know now, uponadvice, it toucheth us both,—that we may yet again have access toour fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca’s love,—to labourand effect one thing specially. GREMIO. What’s that, I pray? HORTENSIO. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. GREMIO. A husband! a devil. HORTENSIO. I say, a husband. GREMIO. I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though herfather be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married tohell? HORTENSIO. Tush, Gremio! Though it pass your patience and mine toendure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in theworld, and a man could light on them, would take her with allfaults, and money enough. GREMIO. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with thiscondition: to be whipp’d at the high cross every morning. HORTENSIO. Faith, as you say, there’s small choice in rottenapples. But come; since this bar in law makes us friends, itshall be so far forth friendly maintained, till by helpingBaptista’s eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest freefor a husband, and then have to’t afresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy manbe his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. How say you,Signior Gremio? GREMIO. I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse inPadua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wedher, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on. [Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio. ]TRANIO. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possibleThat love should of a sudden take such hold? LUCENTIO. O Tranio! till I found it to be true,I never thought it possible or likely;But see, while idly I stood looking on,I found the effect of love in idleness;And now in plainness do confess to thee,That art to me as secret and as dearAs Anna to the Queen of Carthage was,Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,If I achieve not this young modest girl. Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst:Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. TRANIO. Master, it is no time to chide you now;Affection is not rated from the heart:If love have touch’d you, nought remains but so:Redime te captum quam queas minimo. LUCENTIO. Gramercies, lad; go forward; this contents;The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound. TRANIO. Master, you look’d so longly on the maid. Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all. LUCENTIO. O, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,Such as the daughter of Agenor had,That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,When with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan strand. TRANIO. Saw you no more? mark’d you not how her sisterBegan to scold and raise up such a stormThat mortal ears might hardly endure the din? LUCENTIO. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,And with her breath she did perfume the air;Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. TRANIO. Nay, then, ’tis time to stir him from his trance. I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid,Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands:Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,That till the father rid his hands of her,Master, your love must live a maid at home;And therefore has he closely mew’d her up,Because she will not be annoy’d with suitors. LUCENTIO. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father’s he! But art thou not advis’d he took some careTo get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? TRANIO. Ay, marry, am I, sir, and now ’tis plotted. LUCENTIO. I have it, Tranio. TRANIO. Master, for my hand,Both our inventions meet and jump in one. LUCENTIO. Tell me thine first. TRANIO. You will be schoolmaster,And undertake the teaching of the maid:That’s your device. LUCENTIO. It is: may it be done?

TRANIO. Not possible; for who shall bear your partAnd be in Padua here Vincentio’s son;Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends;Visit his countrymen, and banquet them? LUCENTIO. Basta, content thee, for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house,Nor can we be distinguish’d by our facesFor man or master: then it follows thus:Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,Keep house and port and servants, as I should;I will some other be; some Florentine,Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. ’Tis hatch’d, and shall be so: Tranio, at onceUncase thee; take my colour’d hat and cloak. When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;But I will charm him first to keep his tongue. [They exchange habits]TRANIO. So had you need. In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is,And I am tied to be obedient;For so your father charg’d me at our parting,‘Be serviceable to my son,’ quoth he,Although I think ’twas in another sense:I am content to be Lucentio,Because so well I love Lucentio. LUCENTIO. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves;And let me be a slave, to achieve that maidWhose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded eye. Enter Biondello. Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been? BIONDELLO. Where have I been? Nay, how now! where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes? Or you stol’n his? or both? Pray, what’s the news? LUCENTIO. Sirrah, come hither: ’tis no time to jest,And therefore frame your manners to the time. Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,Puts my apparel and my count’nance on,And I for my escape have put on his;For in a quarrel since I came ashoreI kill’d a man, and fear I was descried. Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,While I make way from hence to save my life. You understand me? BIONDELLO. I, sir! Ne’er a whit. LUCENTIO. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth:Tranio is changed to Lucentio. BIONDELLO. The better for him: would I were so too! TRANIO. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter. But, sirrah, not for my sake but your master’s, I adviseYou use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;But in all places else your master, Lucentio. LUCENTIO. Tranio, let’s go. One thing more rests, that thyself execute,To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,Sufficeth my reasons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt. ][The Presenters above speak. ]FIRST SERVANT. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play. SLY. Yes, by Saint Anne, I do. A good matter, surely: comes thereany more of it? PAGE. My lord, ’tis but begun. SLY. ’Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady: would’twere done! [They sit and mark. ]SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO’S house. Enter Petruchio and his man Grumio. PETRUCHIO. Verona, for a while I take my leave,To see my friends in Padua; but of allMy best beloved and approved friend,Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say. GRUMIO. Knock, sir? Whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebusedyour worship? PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that Ishould knock you here, sir? PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate;And rap me well, or I’ll knock your knave’s pate. GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first,And then I know after who comes by the worst. PETRUCHIO. Will it not be? Faith, sirrah, and you’ll not knock, I’ll ring it;I’ll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. [He wrings Grumio by the ears. ]GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! my master is mad. PETRUCHIO. Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! Enter Hortensio. HORTENSIO. How now! what’s the matter? My old friend Grumio! and mygood friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona? PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? Con tutto il cuore ben trovato, may I say. HORTENSIO. Alla nostra casa ben venuto; molto honorato signor mio Petruchio. Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound this quarrel. GRUMIO. Nay, ’tis no matter, sir, what he ’leges in Latin. If thisbe not a lawful cause for me to leave his service, look you, sir,he bid me knock him and rap him soundly, sir: well, was it fit fora servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, for aught I see,two-and-thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had well knock’dat first, then had not Grumio come by the worst. PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,And could not get him for my heart to do it. GRUMIO. Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these wordsplain: ‘Sirrah knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, andknock me soundly’? And come you now with ‘knocking at the gate’? PETRUCHIO. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. HORTENSIO. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio’s pledge;Why, this’s a heavy chance ’twixt him and you,Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy galeBlows you to Padua here from old Verona? PETRUCHIO. Such wind as scatters young men through the worldTo seek their fortunes farther than at home,Where small experience grows. But in a few,Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:Antonio, my father, is deceas’d,And I have thrust myself into this maze,Haply to wive and thrive as best I may;Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,And so am come abroad to see the world. HORTENSIO. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to theeAnd wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife? Thou’dst thank me but a little for my counsel;And yet I’ll promise thee she shall be rich,And very rich: but th’art too much my friend,And I’ll not wish thee to her. PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, ’twixt such friends as weFew words suffice; and therefore, if thou knowOne rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife,As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love,As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewdAs Socrates’ Xanthippe or a worse,She moves me not, or not removes, at least,Affection’s edge in me, were she as roughAs are the swelling Adriatic seas:I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;If wealthily, then happily in Padua. GRUMIO. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is: why,give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or anaglet-baby; or an old trot with ne’er a tooth in her head, thoughshe have as many diseases as two-and-fifty horses: why, nothingcomes amiss, so money comes withal. HORTENSIO. Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus far in,I will continue that I broach’d in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wifeWith wealth enough, and young and beauteous;Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman:Her only fault,—and that is faults enough,—Is, that she is intolerable curst,And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure,That, were my state far worser than it is,I would not wed her for a mine of gold. PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not gold’s effect:Tell me her father’s name, and ’tis enough;For I will board her, though she chide as loudAs thunder when the clouds in autumn crack. HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola,An affable and courteous gentleman;Her name is Katherina Minola,Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue. PETRUCHIO. I know her father, though I know not her;And he knew my deceased father well. I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;And therefore let me be thus bold with you,To give you over at this first encounter,Unless you will accompany me thither. GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O’ myword, and she knew him as well as I do, she would think scoldingwould do little good upon him. She may perhaps call him half ascore knaves or so; why, that’s nothing; and he begin once, he’llrail in his rope-tricks. I’ll tell you what, sir, and she stand himbut a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigureher with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than acat. You know him not, sir. HORTENSIO. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,For in Baptista’s keep my treasure is:He hath the jewel of my life in hold,His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca,And her withholds from me and other more,Suitors to her and rivals in my love;Supposing it a thing impossible,For those defects I have before rehears’d,That ever Katherina will be woo’d:Therefore this order hath Baptista ta’en,That none shall have access unto BiancaTill Katherine the curst have got a husband. GRUMIO. Katherine the curst! A title for a maid of all titles the worst. HORTENSIO. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,And offer me disguis’d in sober robes,To old Baptista as a schoolmasterWell seen in music, to instruct Bianca;That so I may, by this device at leastHave leave and leisure to make love to her,And unsuspected court her by herself.

GRUMIO. Here’s no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how theyoung folks lay their heads together! Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised, with books under his arm. Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha? HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love. Petruchio,stand by awhile. GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous! GREMIO. O! very well; I have perus’d the note. Hark you, sir; I’ll have them very fairly bound:All books of love, see that at any hand,And see you read no other lectures to her. You understand me. Over and besideSignior Baptista’s liberality,I’ll mend it with a largess. Take your papers too,And let me have them very well perfum’d;For she is sweeter than perfume itselfTo whom they go to. What will you read to her? LUCENTIO. Whate’er I read to her, I’ll plead for you,As for my patron, stand you so assur’d,As firmly as yourself were still in place;Yea, and perhaps with more successful wordsThan you, unless you were a scholar, sir. GREMIO. O! this learning, what a thing it is. GRUMIO. O! this woodcock, what an ass it is. PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah! HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio! GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. I promis’d to enquire carefullyAbout a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca;And by good fortune I have lighted wellOn this young man; for learning and behaviourFit for her turn, well read in poetryAnd other books, good ones, I warrant ye. HORTENSIO. ’Tis well; and I have met a gentlemanHath promis’d me to help me to another,A fine musician to instruct our mistress:So shall I no whit be behind in dutyTo fair Bianca, so belov’d of me. GREMIO. Belov’d of me, and that my deeds shall prove. GRUMIO. [Aside. ] And that his bags shall prove. HORTENSIO. Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our love:Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,I’ll tell you news indifferent good for either. Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,Upon agreement from us to his liking,Will undertake to woo curst Katherine;Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please. GREMIO. So said, so done, is well. Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold;If that be all, masters, I hear no harm. GREMIO. No, say’st me so, friend? What countryman? PETRUCHIO. Born in Verona, old Antonio’s son. My father dead, my fortune lives for me;And I do hope good days and long to see. GREMIO. O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange! But if you have a stomach, to’t a God’s name;You shall have me assisting you in all. But will you woo this wild-cat? PETRUCHIO. Will I live? GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I’ll hang her. PETRUCHIO. Why came I hither but to that intent? Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puff’d up with winds,Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,And heaven’s artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heardLoud ’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets’ clang? And do you tell me of a woman’s tongue,That gives not half so great a blow to hearAs will a chestnut in a farmer’s fire? Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. GRUMIO. [Aside] For he fears none. GREMIO. Hortensio, hark:This gentleman is happily arriv’d,My mind presumes, for his own good and yours. HORTENSIO. I promis’d we would be contributors,And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe’er. GREMIO. And so we will, provided that he win her. GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner. Enter Tranio brave, and Biondello. TRANIO. Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold,Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest wayTo the house of Signior Baptista Minola? BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is’t he you mean? TRANIO. Even he, Biondello! GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to—TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do? PETRUCHIO. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let’s away. LUCENTIO. [Aside] Well begun, Tranio. HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go. Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence? GREMIO. No; if without more words you will get you hence. TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as freeFor me as for you? GREMIO. But so is not she. TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you? GREMIO. For this reason, if you’ll know,That she’s the choice love of Signior Gremio. HORTENSIO. That she’s the chosen of Signior Hortensio. TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen,Do me this right; hear me with patience. Baptista is a noble gentleman,To whom my father is not all unknown;And were his daughter fairer than she is,She may more suitors have, and me for one. Fair Leda’s daughter had a thousand wooers;Then well one more may fair Bianca have;And so she shall: Lucentio shall make one,Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all. LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he’ll prove a jade. PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words? HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,Did you yet ever see Baptista’s daughter? TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two,The one as famous for a scolding tongueAs is the other for beauteous modesty. PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first’s for me; let her go by. GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,And let it be more than Alcides’ twelve. PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth:The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,Her father keeps from all access of suitors,And will not promise her to any manUntil the elder sister first be wed;The younger then is free, and not before. TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the manMust stead us all, and me amongst the rest;And if you break the ice, and do this feat,Achieve the elder, set the younger freeFor our access, whose hap shall be to have herWill not so graceless be to be ingrate. HORTENSIO. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive;And since you do profess to be a suitor,You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,To whom we all rest generally beholding.

TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof,Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,And quaff carouses to our mistress’ health;And do as adversaries do in law,Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let’s be gone. HORTENSIO. The motion’s good indeed, and be it so:—Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. [Exeunt. ]ACT IISCENE I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTA’S house. Enter Katherina and Bianca. BIANCA. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;That I disdain; but for these other gawds,Unbind my hands, I’ll pull them off myself,Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;Or what you will command me will I do,So well I know my duty to my elders. KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tellWhom thou lov’st best: see thou dissemble not. BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men aliveI never yet beheld that special faceWhich I could fancy more than any other. KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio? BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swearI’ll plead for you myself but you shall have him. KATHERINA. O! then, belike, you fancy riches more:You will have Gremio to keep you fair. BIANCA. Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceiveYou have but jested with me all this while:I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. KATHERINA. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her. ]Enter Baptista. BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence? Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word? KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be reveng’d. [Flies after Bianca. ]BAPTISTA. What! in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca. ]KATHERINA. What! will you not suffer me? Nay, now I seeShe is your treasure, she must have a husband;I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell. Talk not to me: I will go sit and weepTill I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit. ]BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev’d as I? But who comes here? Enter Gremio, with Lucentio in the habit of a mean man;Petruchio, with Hortensio as a musician; and Tranio, withBiondello bearing a lute and books. GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. God save you, gentlemen! PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughterCall’d Katherina, fair and virtuous? BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call’d Katherina. GREMIO. You are too blunt: go to it orderly. PETRUCHIO. You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave. I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,Her affability and bashful modesty,Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,Am bold to show myself a forward guestWithin your house, to make mine eye the witnessOf that report which I so oft have heard. And, for an entrance to my entertainment,I do present you with a man of mine,[Presenting Hortensio. ]Cunning in music and the mathematics,To instruct her fully in those sciences,Whereof I know she is not ignorant. Accept of him, or else you do me wrong:His name is Licio, born in Mantua. BAPTISTA. Y’are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake;But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,She is not for your turn, the more my grief. PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her;Or else you like not of my company. BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name? PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonio’s son;A man well known throughout all Italy. BAPTISTA. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too. Backare! you are marvellous forward. PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. GREMIO. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. Toexpress the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindlybeholding to you than any, freely give unto you this youngscholar,[Presenting Lucentio. ]that has been long studying at Rheims; as cunning in Greek,Latin, and other languages, as the other in music andmathematics. His name is Cambio; pray accept his service. BAPTISTA. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio; welcome, good Cambio. [To Tranio. ]But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger. May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? TRANIO. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,That, being a stranger in this city here,Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous. Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,In the preferment of the eldest sister. This liberty is all that I request,That, upon knowledge of my parentage,I may have welcome ’mongst the rest that woo,And free access and favour as the rest:And, toward the education of your daughters,I here bestow a simple instrument,And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:If you accept them, then their worth is great. BAPTISTA. Lucentio is your name, of whence, I pray? TRANIO. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. BAPTISTA. A mighty man of Pisa: by reportI know him well: you are very welcome, sir. [To Hortensio. ] Take you the lute,[To Lucentio. ] and you the set of books;You shall go see your pupils presently. Holla, within! Enter a Servant. Sirrah, lead these gentlemenTo my daughters, and tell them bothThese are their tutors: bid them use them well. [Exeunt Servant with Hortensio, Lucentio and Biondello. ]We will go walk a little in the orchard,And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,And so I pray you all to think yourselves. PETRUCHIO. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,And every day I cannot come to woo. You knew my father well, and in him me,Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,Which I have bettered rather than decreas’d:Then tell me, if I get your daughter’s love,What dowry shall I have with her to wife? BAPTISTA. After my death, the one half of my lands,And in possession twenty thousand crowns. PETRUCHIO. And, for that dowry, I’ll assure her ofHer widowhood, be it that she survive me,In all my lands and leases whatsoever. Let specialities be therefore drawn between us,That covenants may be kept on either hand. BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain’d,That is, her love; for that is all in all. PETRUCHIO. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father,I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;And where two raging fires meet together,They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:Though little fire grows great with little wind,Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all;So I to her, and so she yields to me;For I am rough and woo not like a babe. BAPTISTA. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou arm’d for some unhappy words. PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,That shake not though they blow perpetually. Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broke. BAPTISTA. How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale?

HORTENSIO. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. BAPTISTA. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? HORTENSIO. I think she’ll sooner prove a soldier:Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. BAPTISTA. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? HORTENSIO. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her she mistook her frets,And bow’d her hand to teach her fingering;When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,’Frets, call you these? ’ quoth she ‘I’llfume with them’;And with that word she struck me on the head,And through the instrument my pate made way;And there I stood amazed for a while,As on a pillory, looking through the lute;While she did call me rascal fiddler,And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms,As had she studied to misuse me so. PETRUCHIO. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench! I love her ten times more than e’er I did:O! how I long to have some chat with her! BAPTISTA. [To Hortensio. ] Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited;Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;She’s apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. [Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio and Hortensio. ]I will attend her here,And woo her with some spirit when she comes. Say that she rail; why, then I’ll tell her plainShe sings as sweetly as a nightingale:Say that she frown; I’ll say she looks as clearAs morning roses newly wash’d with dew:Say she be mute, and will not speak a word;Then I’ll commend her volubility,And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:If she do bid me pack, I’ll give her thanks,As though she bid me stay by her a week:If she deny to wed, I’ll crave the dayWhen I shall ask the banns, and when be married. But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. Enter Katherina. Good morrow, Kate; for that’s your name, I hear. KATHERINA. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:They call me Katherine that do talk of me. PETRUCHIO. You lie, in faith, for you are call’d plain Kate,And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;But, Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;Hearing thy mildness prais’d in every town,Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,—Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,—Myself am mov’d to woo thee for my wife. KATHERINA. Mov’d! in good time: let him that mov’d you hitherRemove you hence. I knew you at the first,You were a moveable. PETRUCHIO. Why, what’s a moveable? KATHERINA. A joint-stool. PETRUCHIO. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. KATHERINA. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. PETRUCHIO. Women are made to bear, and so are you. KATHERINA. No such jade as bear you, if me you mean. PETRUCHIO. Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;For, knowing thee to be but young and light,—KATHERINA. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;And yet as heavy as my weight should be. PETRUCHIO. Should be! should buz! KATHERINA. Well ta’en, and like a buzzard. PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. PETRUCHIO. Come, come, you wasp; i’ faith, you are too angry. KATHERINA. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. PETRUCHIO. My remedy is then to pluck it out. KATHERINA. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. PETRUCHIO. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. KATHERINA. In his tongue. PETRUCHIO. Whose tongue? KATHERINA. Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell. PETRUCHIO. What! with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again,Good Kate; I am a gentleman. KATHERINA. That I’ll try. [Striking him. ]PETRUCHIO. I swear I’ll cuff you if you strike again. KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms:If you strike me, you are no gentleman;And if no gentleman, why then no arms. PETRUCHIO. A herald, Kate? O! put me in thy books. KATHERINA. What is your crest? a coxcomb? PETRUCHIO. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. KATHERINA. No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. PETRUCHIO. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. KATHERINA. It is my fashion when I see a crab. PETRUCHIO. Why, here’s no crab, and therefore look not sour. KATHERINA. There is, there is. PETRUCHIO. Then show it me. KATHERINA. Had I a glass I would. PETRUCHIO. What, you mean my face? KATHERINA. Well aim’d of such a young one. PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. KATHERINA. Yet you are wither’d. PETRUCHIO. ’Tis with cares. KATHERINA. I care not. PETRUCHIO. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you ’scape not so. KATHERINA. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go. PETRUCHIO. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle. ’Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,And now I find report a very liar;For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers. Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk;But thou with mildness entertain’st thy wooers;With gentle conference, soft and affable. Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? O sland’rous world! Kate like the hazel-twigIs straight and slender, and as brown in hueAs hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. O! let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. KATHERINA. Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st command. PETRUCHIO. Did ever Dian so become a groveAs Kate this chamber with her princely gait? O! be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful! KATHERINA. Where did you study all this goodly speech? PETRUCHIO.

It is extempore, from my mother-wit. KATHERINA. A witty mother! witless else her son. PETRUCHIO. Am I not wise? KATHERINA. Yes; keep you warm. PETRUCHIO. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed;And therefore, setting all this chat aside,Thus in plain terms: your father hath consentedThat you shall be my wife your dowry ’greed on;And will you, nill you, I will marry you. Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,—Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,—Thou must be married to no man but me;For I am he am born to tame you, Kate,And bring you from a wild Kate to a KateConformable as other household Kates. Re-enter Baptista, Gremio and Tranio. Here comes your father. Never make denial;I must and will have Katherine to my wife. BAPTISTA. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? PETRUCHIO. How but well, sir? how but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss. BAPTISTA. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps? KATHERINA. Call you me daughter? Now I promise youYou have show’d a tender fatherly regardTo wish me wed to one half lunatic,A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack,That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. PETRUCHIO. Father, ’tis thus: yourself and all the worldThat talk’d of her have talk’d amiss of her:If she be curst, it is for policy,For she’s not froward, but modest as the dove;She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;For patience she will prove a second Grissel,And Roman Lucrece for her chastity;And to conclude, we have ’greed so well togetherThat upon Sunday is the wedding-day. KATHERINA. I’ll see thee hang’d on Sunday first. GREMIO. Hark, Petruchio; she says she’ll see thee hang’d first. TRANIO. Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part! PETRUCHIO. Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself;If she and I be pleas’d, what’s that to you? ’Tis bargain’d ’twixt us twain, being alone,That she shall still be curst in company. I tell you, ’tis incredible to believeHow much she loves me: O! the kindest KateShe hung about my neck, and kiss on kissShe vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,That in a twink she won me to her love. O! you are novices: ’tis a world to see,How tame, when men and women are alone,A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. Give me thy hand, Kate; I will unto Venice,To buy apparel ’gainst the wedding-day. Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine. BAPTISTA. I know not what to say; but give me your hands. God send you joy, Petruchio! ’Tis a match. GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses. PETRUCHIO. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu. I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace;We will have rings and things, and fine array;And kiss me, Kate; we will be married o’ Sunday. [Exeunt Petruchio and Katherina, severally. ]GREMIO. Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly? BAPTISTA. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part,And venture madly on a desperate mart. TRANIO. ’Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;’Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. BAPTISTA. The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. GREMIO. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter:Now is the day we long have looked for;I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. TRANIO. And I am one that love Bianca moreThan words can witness or your thoughts can guess. GREMIO. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. TRANIO. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze. GREMIO. But thine doth fry. Skipper, stand back; ’tis age that nourisheth. TRANIO. But youth in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth. BAPTISTA. Content you, gentlemen; I’ll compound this strife:’Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of bothThat can assure my daughter greatest dowerShall have my Bianca’s love. Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her? GREMIO. First, as you know, my house within the cityIs richly furnished with plate and gold:Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;In ivory coffers I have stuff’d my crowns;In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl,Valance of Venice gold in needlework;Pewter and brass, and all things that belongTo house or housekeeping: then, at my farmI have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,And all things answerable to this portion. Myself am struck in years, I must confess;And if I die tomorrow this is hers,If whilst I live she will be only mine. TRANIO. That ‘only’ came well in. Sir, list to me:I am my father’s heir and only son;If I may have your daughter to my wife,I’ll leave her houses three or four as goodWithin rich Pisa’s walls as anyoneOld Signior Gremio has in Padua;Besides two thousand ducats by the yearOf fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. What, have I pinch’d you, Signior Gremio? GREMIO. Two thousand ducats by the year of land! My land amounts not to so much in all:That she shall have, besides an argosyThat now is lying in Marseilles’ road. What, have I chok’d you with an argosy? TRANIO. Gremio, ’tis known my father hath no lessThan three great argosies, besides two galliasses,And twelve tight galleys; these I will assure her,And twice as much, whate’er thou offer’st next. GREMIO. Nay, I have offer’d all; I have no more;And she can have no more than all I have;If you like me, she shall have me and mine. TRANIO. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied. BAPTISTA. I must confess your offer is the best;And let your father make her the assurance,She is your own; else, you must pardon me;If you should die before him, where’s her dower? TRANIO. That’s but a cavil; he is old, I young. GREMIO. And may not young men die as well as old? BAPTISTA. Well, gentlemen,I am thus resolv’d. On Sunday next, you know,My daughter Katherine is to be married;Now, on the Sunday following, shall BiancaBe bride to you, if you make this assurance;If not, to Signior Gremio. And so I take my leave, and thank you both. GREMIO. Adieu, good neighbour. [Exit Baptista. ]Now, I fear thee not:Sirrah young gamester, your father were a foolTo give thee all, and in his waning ageSet foot under thy table. Tut! a toy! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. ]TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty wither’d hide! Yet I have fac’d it with a card of ten. ’Tis in my head to do my master good:I see no reason but suppos’d LucentioMust get a father, call’d suppos’d Vincentio;And that’s a wonder: fathers commonlyDo get their children; but in this case of wooingA child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. [Exit. ]ACT IIISCENE I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTA’S house. Enter Lucentio, Hortensio and Bianca. LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir. Have you so soon forgot the entertainmentHer sister Katherine welcome’d you withal? HORTENSIO. But, wrangling pedant, this isThe patroness of heavenly harmony:Then give me leave to have prerogative;And when in music we have spent an hour,Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. LUCENTIO. Preposterous ass, that never read so farTo know the cause why music was ordain’d! Was it not to refresh the mind of manAfter his studies or his usual pain? Then give me leave to read philosophy,And while I pause serve in your harmony. HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. BIANCA. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,To strive for that which resteth in my choice. I am no breeching scholar in the schools,I’ll not be tied to hours nor ’pointed times,But learn my lessons as I please myself. And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down;Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d. HORTENSIO. You’ll leave his lecture when I am in tune? [Retires. ]LUCENTIO. That will be never: tune your instrument. BIANCA. Where left we last? LUCENTIO. Here, madam:—Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.

BIANCA. Construe them. LUCENTIO. Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hicest, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thusto get your love, Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comesa-wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port,celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon. HORTENSIO. [Returning. ]Madam, my instrument’s in tune. BIANCA. Let’s hear. —[Hortensio plays. ]O fie! the treble jars. LUCENTIO. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. BIANCA. Now let me see if I can construe it: Hic ibat Simois, Iknow you not; hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; Hicsteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, presume not;celsa senis, despair not. HORTENSIO. Madam, ’tis now in tune. LUCENTIO. All but the base. HORTENSIO. The base is right; ’tis the base knave that jars. [Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:Pedascule, I’ll watch you better yet. BIANCA. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. LUCENTIO. Mistrust it not; for sure, ÆacidesWas Ajax, call’d so from his grandfather. BIANCA. I must believe my master; else, I promise you,I should be arguing still upon that doubt;But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you. Good master, take it not unkindly, pray,That I have been thus pleasant with you both. HORTENSIO. [To Lucentio] You may go walk and give me leave a while;My lessons make no music in three parts. LUCENTIO. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait,[Aside] And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv’d,Our fine musician groweth amorous. HORTENSIO. Madam, before you touch the instrument,To learn the order of my fingering,I must begin with rudiments of art;To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,Than hath been taught by any of my trade:And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. BIANCA. Why, I am past my gamut long ago. HORTENSIO. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. BIANCA. Gamut I am, the ground of all accord, A re, to plead Hortensio’s passion; B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord, C fa ut, that loves with all affection: D sol re, one clef, two notes have I E la mi, show pity or I die. Call you this gamut? Tut, I like it not:Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,To change true rules for odd inventions. Enter a Servant. SERVANT. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,And help to dress your sister’s chamber up:You know tomorrow is the wedding-day. BIANCA. Farewell, sweet masters, both: I must be gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. ]LUCENTIO. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit. ]HORTENSIO. But I have cause to pry into this pedant:Methinks he looks as though he were in love. Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humbleTo cast thy wand’ring eyes on every stale,Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit. ]SCENE II. The same. Before BAPTISTA’S house. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherina, Bianca, Lucentio and Attendants. BAPTISTA. [To Tranio. ]Signior Lucentio, this is the ’pointed dayThat Katherine and Petruchio should be married,And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. What will be said? What mockery will it beTo want the bridegroom when the priest attendsTo speak the ceremonial rites of marriage! What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? KATHERINA. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc’dTo give my hand, oppos’d against my heart,Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen;Who woo’d in haste and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour;And to be noted for a merry man,He’ll woo a thousand, ’point the day of marriage,Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns;Yet never means to wed where he hath woo’d. Now must the world point at poor Katherine,And say ‘Lo! there is mad Petruchio’s wife,If it would please him come and marry her. ’TRANIO. Patience, good Katherine, and Baptista too. Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,Whatever fortune stays him from his word:Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;Though he be merry, yet withal he’s honest. KATHERINA. Would Katherine had never seen him though! [Exit weeping, followed by Bianca and others. ]BAPTISTA. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,For such an injury would vex a very saint;Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. Enter Biondello. Master, master! News! old news, and such news as you never heardof! BAPTISTA. Is it new and old too? How may that be? BIONDELLO. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio’s coming? BAPTISTA. Is he come? BIONDELLO. Why, no, sir. BAPTISTA. What then? BIONDELLO. He is coming. BAPTISTA. When will he be here? BIONDELLO. When he stands where I am and sees you there. TRANIO. But say, what to thine old news? BIONDELLO. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an oldjerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turned; a pair of bootsthat have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced; an oldrusty sword ta’en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt,and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse hipped with anold mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possessedwith the glanders and like to mose in the chine; troubled withthe lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, spedwith spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives,stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed inthe back and shoulder-shotten; near-legged before, and with ahalf-checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep’s leather, which,being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been oftenburst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times pieced,and a woman’s crupper of velure, which hath two letters for hername fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced withpack-thread. BAPTISTA. Who comes with him? BIONDELLO. O, sir! his lackey, for all the world caparisoned likethe horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hoseon the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, andthe humour of forty fancies prick’d in’t for a feather: amonster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christianfootboy or a gentleman’s lackey. TRANIO. ’Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell’d. BAPTISTA. I am glad he’s come, howsoe’er he comes. BIONDELLO. Why, sir, he comes not. BAPTISTA. Didst thou not say he comes? BIONDELLO. Who? that Petruchio came? BAPTISTA. Ay, that Petruchio came. BIONDELLO. No, sir; I say his horse comes, with him on his back. BAPTISTA. Why, that’s all one. BIONDELLO. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumio. PETRUCHIO. Come, where be these gallants? Who is at home? BAPTISTA. You are welcome, sir. PETRUCHIO. And yet I come not well. BAPTISTA. And yet you halt not. TRANIO. Not so well apparell’d as I wish you were. PETRUCHIO. Were it better, I should rush in thus. But where is Kate?

Where is my lovely bride? How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown;And wherefore gaze this goodly company,As if they saw some wondrous monument,Some comet or unusual prodigy? BAPTISTA. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day:First were we sad, fearing you would not come;Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,An eye-sore to our solemn festival. TRANIO. And tell us what occasion of importHath all so long detain’d you from your wife,And sent you hither so unlike yourself? PETRUCHIO. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear;Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,Though in some part enforced to digress;Which at more leisure I will so excuseAs you shall well be satisfied withal. But where is Kate? I stay too long from her;The morning wears, ’tis time we were at church. TRANIO. See not your bride in these unreverent robes;Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. PETRUCHIO. Not I, believe me: thus I’ll visit her. BAPTISTA. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. PETRUCHIO. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha’ done with words;To me she’s married, not unto my clothes. Could I repair what she will wear in meAs I can change these poor accoutrements,’Twere well for Kate and better for myself. But what a fool am I to chat with youWhen I should bid good morrow to my bride,And seal the title with a lovely kiss! [Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio and Biondello. ]TRANIO. He hath some meaning in his mad attire. We will persuade him, be it possible,To put on better ere he go to church. BAPTISTA. I’ll after him and see the event of this. [Exeunt Baptista, Gremio and Attendants. ]TRANIO. But, sir, to love concerneth us to addHer father’s liking; which to bring to pass,As I before imparted to your worship,I am to get a man,—whate’er he beIt skills not much; we’ll fit him to our turn,—And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,And make assurance here in Padua,Of greater sums than I have promised. So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,And marry sweet Bianca with consent. LUCENTIO. Were it not that my fellow schoolmasterDoth watch Bianca’s steps so narrowly,’Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;Which once perform’d, let all the world say no,I’ll keep mine own despite of all the world. TRANIO. That by degrees we mean to look into,And watch our vantage in this business. We’ll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,The narrow-prying father, Minola,The quaint musician, amorous Licio;All for my master’s sake, Lucentio. Re-enter Gremio. Signior Gremio, came you from the church? GREMIO. As willingly as e’er I came from school. TRANIO. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? GREMIO. A bridegroom, say you? ’Tis a groom indeed,A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. TRANIO. Curster than she? Why, ’tis impossible. GREMIO. Why, he’s a devil, a devil, a very fiend. TRANIO. Why, she’s a devil, a devil, the devil’s dam. GREMIO. Tut! she’s a lamb, a dove, a fool, to him. I’ll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priestShould ask if Katherine should be his wife,’Ay, by gogs-wouns’ quoth he, and swore so loudThat, all amaz’d, the priest let fall the book;And as he stoop’d again to take it up,The mad-brain’d bridegroom took him such a cuffThat down fell priest and book, and book and priest:‘Now take them up,’ quoth he ‘if any list. ’TRANIO. What said the wench, when he rose again? GREMIO. Trembled and shook, for why, he stamp’d and sworeAs if the vicar meant to cozen him. But after many ceremonies done,He calls for wine: ‘A health! ’ quoth he, as ifHe had been abroad, carousing to his matesAfter a storm; quaff’d off the muscadel,And threw the sops all in the sexton’s face,Having no other reasonBut that his beard grew thin and hungerlyAnd seem’d to ask him sops as he was drinking. This done, he took the bride about the neck,And kiss’d her lips with such a clamorous smackThat at the parting all the church did echo. And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame;And after me, I know, the rout is coming. Such a mad marriage never was before. Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. [Music plays. ]Enter Petrucio, Katherina, Bianca, Baptista, Hortensio, Grumio and Train. PETRUCHIO. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains:I know you think to dine with me today,And have prepar’d great store of wedding cheerBut so it is, my haste doth call me hence,And therefore here I mean to take my leave. BAPTISTA. Is’t possible you will away tonight? PETRUCHIO. I must away today before night come. Make it no wonder: if you knew my business,You would entreat me rather go than stay. And, honest company, I thank you all,That have beheld me give away myselfTo this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife. Dine with my father, drink a health to me. For I must hence; and farewell to you all. TRANIO. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. PETRUCHIO. It may not be. GREMIO. Let me entreat you. PETRUCHIO. It cannot be. KATHERINA. Let me entreat you. PETRUCHIO. I am content. KATHERINA. Are you content to stay? PETRUCHIO. I am content you shall entreat me stay;But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. KATHERINA. Now, if you love me, stay. PETRUCHIO. Grumio, my horse! GRUMIO. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses. KATHERINA. Nay, then,Do what thou canst, I will not go today;No, nor tomorrow, not till I please myself. The door is open, sir; there lies your way;You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;For me, I’ll not be gone till I please myself. ’Tis like you’ll prove a jolly surly groomThat take it on you at the first so roundly. PETRUCHIO. O Kate! content thee: prithee be not angry. KATHERINA. I will be angry: what hast thou to do? Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. GREMIO. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work. KATHERINA. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:I see a woman may be made a fool,If she had not a spirit to resist. PETRUCHIO. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command. Obey the bride, you that attend on her;Go to the feast, revel and domineer,Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves:But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;I will be master of what is mine own. She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,My household stuff, my field, my barn,My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything;And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;I’ll bring mine action on the proudest heThat stops my way in Padua. Grumio,Draw forth thy weapon; we are beset with thieves;Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man. Fear not, sweet wench; they shall not touch thee, Kate;I’ll buckler thee against a million. [Exeunt Petrucio, Katherina and Grumio. ]BAPTISTA. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones. GREMIO. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing. TRANIO. Of all mad matches, never was the like. LUCENTIO. Mistress, what’s your opinion of your sister? BIANCA. That, being mad herself, she’s madly mated. GREMIO. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. BAPTISTA. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wantsFor to supply the places at the table,You know there wants no junkets at the feast. Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom’s place;And let Bianca take her sister’s room. TRANIO. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it? BAPTISTA. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let’s go. [Exeunt. ]ACT IVSCENE I.

A hall in PETRUCHIO’S country house. Enter Grumio. GRUMIO. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and allfoul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray’d? Wasever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they arecoming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soonhot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofof my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire tothaw me. But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself; for,considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis! Enter Curtis. CURTIS. Who is that calls so coldly? GRUMIO. A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from myshoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and myneck. A fire, good Curtis. CURTIS. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio? GRUMIO. O, ay! Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire; cast on nowater. CURTIS. Is she so hot a shrew as she’s reported? GRUMIO. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou knowestwinter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tamed my oldmaster, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis. CURTIS. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast. GRUMIO. Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot; and so longam I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complainon thee to our mistress, whose hand,—she being now at hand,—thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thyhot office? CURTIS. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world? GRUMIO. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; andtherefore fire. Do thy duty, and have thy duty, for my master andmistress are almost frozen to death. CURTIS. There’s fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news. GRUMIO. Why, ‘Jack boy! ho, boy! ’ and as much news as wilt thou. CURTIS. Come, you are so full of cony-catching. GRUMIO. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where’s the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushesstrewed, cobwebs swept, the servingmen in their new fustian,their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without, and carpetslaid, and everything in order? CURTIS. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news. GRUMIO. First, know my horse is tired; my master and mistress fallen out. CURTIS. How? GRUMIO. Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale. CURTIS. Let’s ha’t, good Grumio. GRUMIO. Lend thine ear. CURTIS. Here. GRUMIO. [Striking him. ] There. CURTIS. This ’tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale. GRUMIO. And therefore ’tis called a sensible tale; and this cuffwas but to knock at your ear and beseech listening. Now I begin:Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind mymistress,—CURTIS. Both of one horse? GRUMIO. What’s that to thee? CURTIS. Why, a horse. GRUMIO. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, thoushouldst have heard how her horse fell, and she under her horse;thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she wasbemoiled; how he left her with the horse upon her; how he beat mebecause her horse stumbled; how she waded through the dirt topluck him off me: how he swore; how she prayed, that never prayedbefore; how I cried; how the horses ran away; how her bridle wasburst; how I lost my crupper; with many things of worthy memory,which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced tothy grave. CURTIS. By this reckoning he is more shrew than she. GRUMIO. Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall findwhen he comes home. But what talk I of this? Call forthNathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and therest; let their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats brush’dand their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curtsy withtheir left legs, and not presume to touch a hair of my master’shorse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready? CURTIS. They are. GRUMIO. Call them forth. CURTIS. Do you hear? ho! You must meet my master to countenance mymistress. GRUMIO. Why, she hath a face of her own. CURTIS. Who knows not that? GRUMIO. Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance her. CURTIS. I call them forth to credit her. GRUMIO. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them. Enter four or five Servants. NATHANIEL. Welcome home, Grumio! PHILIP. How now, Grumio! JOSEPH. What, Grumio! NICHOLAS. Fellow Grumio! NATHANIEL. How now, old lad! GRUMIO. Welcome, you; how now, you; what, you; fellow, you;and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is allready, and all things neat? NATHANIEL. All things is ready. How near is our master? GRUMIO. E’en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not,—Cock’s passion, silence! I hear my master. Enter Petrucio and Katherina. PETRUCHIO. Where be these knaves? What! no man at doorTo hold my stirrup nor to take my horse? Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? —ALL SERVANTS. Here, here, sir; here, sir. PETRUCHIO. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! You logger-headed and unpolish’d grooms! What, no attendance? no regard? no duty? Where is the foolish knave I sent before? GRUMIO. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before. PETRUCHIO.

You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge! Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,And bring along these rascal knaves with thee? GRUMIO. Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully made,And Gabriel’s pumps were all unpink’d i’ the heel;There was no link to colour Peter’s hat,And Walter’s dagger was not come from sheathing;There was none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you. PETRUCHIO. Go, rascals, go and fetch my supper in. [Exeunt some of the Servants. ]Where is the life that late I led? Where are those—? Sit down, Kate, and welcome. Food, food, food, food! Re-enter Servants with supper. Why, when, I say? —Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. —Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains! when? It was the friar of orders grey, As he forth walked on his way:Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry:[Strikes him. ]Take that, and mend the plucking off the other. Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho! Where’s my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you henceAnd bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:[Exit Servant. ]One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with. Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water? Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily. —[Servant lets the ewer fall. Petruchio strikes him. ]You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? KATHERINA. Patience, I pray you; ’twas a fault unwilling. PETRUCHIO. A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear’d knave! Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. Will you give thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall I? —What’s this? Mutton? FIRST SERVANT. Ay. PETRUCHIO. Who brought it? PETER. I. PETRUCHIO. ’Tis burnt; and so is all the meat. What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook? How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,And serve it thus to me that love it not? [Throws the meat, etc. , at them. ]There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all. You heedless joltheads and unmanner’d slaves! What! do you grumble? I’ll be with you straight. KATHERINA. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;The meat was well, if you were so contented. PETRUCHIO. I tell thee, Kate, ’twas burnt and dried away,And I expressly am forbid to touch it;For it engenders choler, planteth anger;And better ’twere that both of us did fast,Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh. Be patient; tomorrow ’t shall be mended. And for this night we’ll fast for company:Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [Exeunt Petruchio, Katherina and Curtis. ]NATHANIEL. Peter, didst ever see the like? PETER. He kills her in her own humour. Re-enter Curtis. GRUMIO. Where is he? CURTIS. In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her;And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,And sits as one new risen from a dream. Away, away! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt. ]Re-enter Petruchio. PETRUCHIO. Thus have I politicly begun my reign,And ’tis my hope to end successfully. My falcon now is sharp and passing empty. And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg’d,For then she never looks upon her lure. Another way I have to man my haggard,To make her come, and know her keeper’s call,That is, to watch her, as we watch these kitesThat bate and beat, and will not be obedient. She eat no meat today, nor none shall eat;Last night she slept not, nor tonight she shall not;As with the meat, some undeserved faultI’ll find about the making of the bed;And here I’ll fling the pillow, there the bolster,This way the coverlet, another way the sheets;Ay, and amid this hurly I intendThat all is done in reverend care of her;And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night:And if she chance to nod I’ll rail and brawl,And with the clamour keep her still awake. This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;And thus I’ll curb her mad and headstrong humour. He that knows better how to tame a shrew,Now let him speak; ’tis charity to show. [Exit. ]SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA’S house. Enter Tranio and Hortensio. TRANIO. Is ’t possible, friend Licio, that Mistress BiancaDoth fancy any other but Lucentio? I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand. HORTENSIO. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand aside. ]Enter Bianca and Lucentio. LUCENTIO. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read? BIANCA. What, master, read you? First resolve me that. LUCENTIO. I read that I profess, The Art to Love. BIANCA. And may you prove, sir, master of your art! LUCENTIO. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. [They retire. ]HORTENSIO. Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray,You that durst swear that your Mistress BiancaLov’d none in the world so well as Lucentio. TRANIO. O despiteful love! unconstant womankind! I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. HORTENSIO. Mistake no more; I am not Licio. Nor a musician as I seem to be;But one that scorn to live in this disguiseFor such a one as leaves a gentlemanAnd makes a god of such a cullion:Know, sir, that I am call’d Hortensio. TRANIO. Signior Hortensio, I have often heardOf your entire affection to Bianca;And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,I will with you, if you be so contented,Forswear Bianca and her love for ever. HORTENSIO. See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,Here is my hand, and here I firmly vowNever to woo her more, but do forswear her,As one unworthy all the former favoursThat I have fondly flatter’d her withal. TRANIO. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,Never to marry with her though she would entreat;Fie on her! See how beastly she doth court him! HORTENSIO. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,I will be married to a wealthy widowEre three days pass, which hath as long lov’d meAs I have lov’d this proud disdainful haggard. And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,Shall win my love; and so I take my leave,In resolution as I swore before. [Exit Hortensio. Lucentio and Bianca advance. ]TRANIO. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such graceAs ’longeth to a lover’s blessed case! Nay, I have ta’en you napping, gentle love,And have forsworn you with Hortensio. BIANCA. Tranio, you jest; but have you both forsworn me? TRANIO. Mistress, we have. LUCENTIO. Then we are rid of Licio. TRANIO. I’ faith, he’ll have a lusty widow now,That shall be woo’d and wedded in a day.

BIANCA. God give him joy! TRANIO. Ay, and he’ll tame her. BIANCA. He says so, Tranio. TRANIO. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. BIANCA. The taming-school! What, is there such a place? TRANIO. Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master,That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue. Enter Biondello, running. BIONDELLO. O master, master! I have watch’d so longThat I am dog-weary; but at last I spiedAn ancient angel coming down the hillWill serve the turn. TRANIO. What is he, Biondello? BIONDELLO. Master, a mercatante or a pedant,I know not what; but formal in apparel,In gait and countenance surely like a father. LUCENTIO. And what of him, Tranio? TRANIO. If he be credulous and trust my tale,I’ll make him glad to seem Vincentio,And give assurance to Baptista Minola,As if he were the right Vincentio. Take in your love, and then let me alone. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. ]Enter a Pedant. PEDANT. God save you, sir! TRANIO. And you, sir! you are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest? PEDANT. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two;But then up farther, and as far as Rome;And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life. TRANIO. What countryman, I pray? PEDANT. Of Mantua. TRANIO. Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid,And come to Padua, careless of your life! PEDANT. My life, sir! How, I pray? for that goes hard. TRANIO. ’Tis death for anyone in MantuaTo come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stay’d at Venice; and the Duke,—For private quarrel ’twixt your Duke and him,—Hath publish’d and proclaim’d it openly. ’Tis marvel, but that you are but newly comeYou might have heard it else proclaim’d about. PEDANT. Alas, sir! it is worse for me than so;For I have bills for money by exchangeFrom Florence, and must here deliver them. TRANIO. Well, sir, to do you courtesy,This will I do, and this I will advise you:First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa? PEDANT. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been,Pisa renowned for grave citizens. TRANIO. Among them know you one Vincentio? PEDANT. I know him not, but I have heard of him,A merchant of incomparable wealth. TRANIO. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. BIONDELLO. [Aside. ] As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one. TRANIO. To save your life in this extremity,This favour will I do you for his sake;And think it not the worst of all your fortunesThat you are like to Sir Vincentio. His name and credit shall you undertake,And in my house you shall be friendly lodg’d;Look that you take upon you as you should! You understand me, sir; so shall you stayTill you have done your business in the city. If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it. PEDANT. O, sir, I do; and will repute you everThe patron of my life and liberty. TRANIO. Then go with me to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand:My father is here look’d for every dayTo pass assurance of a dower in marriage’Twixt me and one Baptista’s daughter here:In all these circumstances I’ll instruct you. Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. [Exeunt. ]SCENE III. A room in PETRUCHIO’S house. Enter Katherina and Grumio. GRUMIO. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life. KATHERINA. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars that come unto my father’s doorUpon entreaty have a present alms;If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;But I, who never knew how to entreat,Nor never needed that I should entreat,Am starv’d for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed. And that which spites me more than all these wants,He does it under name of perfect love;As who should say, if I should sleep or eat’Twere deadly sickness, or else present death. I prithee go and get me some repast;I care not what, so it be wholesome food. GRUMIO. What say you to a neat’s foot? KATHERINA. ’Tis passing good; I prithee let me have it. GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broil’d? KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear ’tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon. GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest. GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not: you shall have the mustard,Or else you get no beef of Grumio. KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt. GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef. KATHERINA. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,[Beats him. ]That feed’st me with the very name of meat. Sorrow on thee and all the pack of youThat triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say. Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat; and Hortensio. PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer? KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be. PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here, love; thou seest how diligent I am,To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:[Sets the dish on a table. ]I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What! not a word? Nay, then thou lov’st it not,And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish. KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand. PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks;And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. KATHERINA. I thank you, sir. HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, Mistress Kate, I’ll bear you company. PETRUCHIO.

[Aside. ] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love,Will we return unto thy father’s houseAnd revel it as bravely as the best,With silken coats and caps, and golden rings,With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things;With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What! hast thou din’d? The tailor stays thy leisure,To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. Enter Tailor. Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;Lay forth the gown. —Enter Haberdasher. What news with you, sir? HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. PETRUCHIO. Why, this was moulded on a porringer;A velvet dish: fie, fie! ’tis lewd and filthy:Why, ’tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby’s cap:Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. KATHERINA. I’ll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,And not till then. HORTENSIO. [Aside] That will not be in haste. KATHERINA. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;And speak I will. I am no child, no babe. Your betters have endur’d me say my mind,And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,Or else my heart, concealing it, will break;And rather than it shall, I will be freeEven to the uttermost, as I please, in words. PETRUCHIO. Why, thou say’st true; it is a paltry cap,A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie;I love thee well in that thou lik’st it not. KATHERINA. Love me or love me not, I like the cap;And it I will have, or I will have none. [Exit Haberdasher. ]PETRUCHIO. Thy gown? Why, ay: come, tailor, let us see’t. O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? What’s this? A sleeve? ’Tis like a demi-cannon. What, up and down, carv’d like an apple tart? Here’s snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,Like to a censer in a barber’s shop. Why, what i’ devil’s name, tailor, call’st thou this? HORTENSIO. [Aside] I see she’s like to have neither cap nor gown. TAILOR. You bid me make it orderly and well,According to the fashion and the time. PETRUCHIO. Marry, and did; but if you be remember’d,I did not bid you mar it to the time. Go, hop me over every kennel home,For you shall hop without my custom, sir. I’ll none of it: hence! make your best of it. KATHERINA. I never saw a better fashion’d gown,More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable;Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. PETRUCHIO. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. TAILOR. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her. PETRUCHIO. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,Thou thimble,Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! Brav’d in mine own house with a skein of thread! Away! thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant,Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yardAs thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv’st! I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr’d her gown. TAILOR. Your worship is deceiv’d: the gown is madeJust as my master had direction. Grumio gave order how it should be done. GRUMIO. I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff. TAILOR. But how did you desire it should be made? GRUMIO. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. TAILOR. But did you not request to have it cut? GRUMIO. Thou hast faced many things. TAILOR. I have. GRUMIO. Face not me. Thou hast braved many men; brave not me: Iwill neither be fac’d nor brav’d. I say unto thee, I bid thymaster cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces:ergo, thou liest. TAILOR. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. PETRUCHIO. Read it. GRUMIO. The note lies in ’s throat, if he say I said so. TAILOR. ’Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown. ’GRUMIO. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it andbeat me to death with a bottom of brown thread; I said, a gown. PETRUCHIO. Proceed. TAILOR. ’With a small compassed cape. ’GRUMIO. I confess the cape. TAILOR. ’With a trunk sleeve. ’GRUMIO. I confess two sleeves. TAILOR. ’The sleeves curiously cut. ’PETRUCHIO. Ay, there’s the villainy. GRUMIO. Error i’ the bill, sir; error i’ the bill. I commanded thesleeves should be cut out, and sew’d up again; and that I’llprove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. TAILOR. This is true that I say; and I had thee in place where thoushouldst know it. GRUMIO. I am for thee straight; take thou the bill, give me thymete-yard, and spare not me. HORTENSIO. God-a-mercy, Grumio! Then he shall have no odds. PETRUCHIO. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. GRUMIO. You are i’ the right, sir; ’tis for my mistress. PETRUCHIO. Go, take it up unto thy master’s use. GRUMIO. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress’ gown forthy master’s use! PETRUCHIO. Why, sir, what’s your conceit in that? GRUMIO. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for. Take up my mistress’ gown to his master’s use! O fie, fie, fie! PETRUCHIO. [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. [To Tailor. ] Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more. HORTENSIO. [Aside to Tailor. ] Tailor, I’ll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow;Take no unkindness of his hasty words. Away, I say! commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailor. ]PETRUCHIO. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father’sEven in these honest mean habiliments.

Our purses shall be proud, our garments poorFor ’tis the mind that makes the body rich;And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,So honour peereth in the meanest habit. What, is the jay more precious than the larkBecause his feathers are more beautiful? Or is the adder better than the eelBecause his painted skin contents the eye? O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worseFor this poor furniture and mean array. If thou account’st it shame, lay it on me;And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith,To feast and sport us at thy father’s house. Go call my men, and let us straight to him;And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;There will we mount, and thither walk on foot. Let’s see; I think ’tis now some seven o’clock,And well we may come there by dinner-time. KATHERINA. I dare assure you, sir, ’tis almost two,And ’twill be supper-time ere you come there. PETRUCHIO. It shall be seven ere I go to horse. Look what I speak, or do, or think to do,You are still crossing it. Sirs, let ’t alone:I will not go today; and ere I do,It shall be what o’clock I say it is. HORTENSIO. Why, so this gallant will command the sun. [Exeunt. ]SCENE IV. Padua. Before BAPTISTA’S house. Enter Tranio and the Pedant dressed like VincentioTRANIO. Sir, this is the house; please it you that I call? PEDANT. Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived,Signior Baptista may remember me,Near twenty years ago in Genoa,Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus. TRANIO. ’Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,With such austerity as ’longeth to a father. PEDANT. I warrant you. But, sir, here comes your boy;’Twere good he were school’d. Enter Biondello. TRANIO. Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello,Now do your duty throughly, I advise you. Imagine ’twere the right Vincentio. BIONDELLO. Tut! fear not me. TRANIO. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista? BIONDELLO. I told him that your father was at Venice,And that you look’d for him this day in Padua. TRANIO. Th’art a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink. Here comes Baptista. Set your countenance, sir. Enter Baptista and Lucentio. Signior Baptista, you are happily met. [To the Pedant] Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;I pray you stand good father to me now;Give me Bianca for my patrimony. PEDANT. Soft, son! Sir, by your leave: having come to PaduaTo gather in some debts, my son LucentioMade me acquainted with a weighty causeOf love between your daughter and himself:And,—for the good report I hear of you,And for the love he beareth to your daughter,And she to him,—to stay him not too long,I am content, in a good father’s care,To have him match’d; and, if you please to likeNo worse than I, upon some agreementMe shall you find ready and willingWith one consent to have her so bestow’d;For curious I cannot be with you,Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. BAPTISTA. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say. Your plainness and your shortness please me well. Right true it is your son Lucentio hereDoth love my daughter, and she loveth him,Or both dissemble deeply their affections;And therefore, if you say no more than this,That like a father you will deal with him,And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,The match is made, and all is done:Your son shall have my daughter with consent. TRANIO. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know bestWe be affied, and such assurance ta’enAs shall with either part’s agreement stand? BAPTISTA. Not in my house, Lucentio, for you knowPitchers have ears, and I have many servants;Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still,And happily we might be interrupted. TRANIO. Then at my lodging, and it like you:There doth my father lie; and there this nightWe’ll pass the business privately and well. Send for your daughter by your servant here;My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. The worst is this, that at so slender warningYou are like to have a thin and slender pittance. BAPTISTA. It likes me well. Cambio, hie you home,And bid Bianca make her ready straight;And, if you will, tell what hath happened:Lucentio’s father is arriv’d in Padua,And how she’s like to be Lucentio’s wife. LUCENTIO. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart! TRANIO. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? Welcome! One mess is like to be your cheer;Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa. BAPTISTA. I follow you. [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant and Baptista. ]BIONDELLO. Cambio! LUCENTIO. What say’st thou, Biondello? BIONDELLO. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you? LUCENTIO. Biondello, what of that? BIONDELLO. Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to expoundthe meaning or moral of his signs and tokens. LUCENTIO. I pray thee moralize them. BIONDELLO. Then thus: Baptista is safe, talking with thedeceiving father of a deceitful son. LUCENTIO. And what of him? BIONDELLO. His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper. LUCENTIO. And then? BIONDELLO. The old priest at Saint Luke’s church is at yourcommand at all hours. LUCENTIO. And what of all this? BIONDELLO. I cannot tell, except they are busied about a counterfeit assurance. Takeyour assurance of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum; to the church! takethe priest, clerk, and some sufficient honest witnesses. If this be not that you look for, I have more to say,But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. [Going. ]LUCENTIO. Hear’st thou, Biondello? BIONDELLO. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an afternoonas she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and somay you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me togo to Saint Luke’s to bid the priest be ready to come against youcome with your appendix. [Exit. ]LUCENTIO. I may, and will, if she be so contented. She will be pleas’d; then wherefore should I doubt? Hap what hap may, I’ll roundly go about her;It shall go hard if Cambio go without her:[Exit. ]SCENE V. A public road. Enter Petruchio, Katherina, Hortensio and Servants. PETRUCHIO. Come on, i’ God’s name; once more toward our father’s. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! KATHERINA. The moon! The sun; it is not moonlight now. PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon that shines so bright. KATHERINA. I know it is the sun that shines so bright. PETRUCHIO. Now by my mother’s son, and that’s myself,It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,Or ere I journey to your father’s house. Go on and fetch our horses back again. Evermore cross’d and cross’d; nothing but cross’d! HORTENSIO. Say as he says, or we shall never go. KATHERINA. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,And be it moon, or sun, or what you please;And if you please to call it a rush-candle,Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon. KATHERINA. I know it is the moon. PETRUCHIO. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun. KATHERINA. Then, God be bless’d, it is the blessed sun;But sun it is not when you say it is not,And the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it nam’d, even that it is,And so it shall be so for Katherine.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. PETRUCHIO. Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,And not unluckily against the bias. But, soft! Company is coming here. Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress. [To Vincentio] Good morrow, gentle mistress; where away? Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What stars do spangle heaven with such beautyAs those two eyes become that heavenly face? Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty’s sake. HORTENSIO. A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. KATHERINA. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,Whither away, or where is thy abode? Happy the parents of so fair a child;Happier the man whom favourable starsAllot thee for his lovely bedfellow. PETRUCHIO. Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither’d,And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is. KATHERINA. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,That have been so bedazzled with the sunThat everything I look on seemeth green:Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. PETRUCHIO. Do, good old grandsire, and withal make knownWhich way thou travellest: if along with us,We shall be joyful of thy company. VINCENTIO. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,That with your strange encounter much amaz’d me,My name is called Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;And bound I am to Padua, there to visitA son of mine, which long I have not seen. PETRUCHIO. What is his name? VINCENTIO. Lucentio, gentle sir. PETRUCHIO. Happily met; the happier for thy son. And now by law, as well as reverend age,I may entitle thee my loving father:The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,Nor be not griev’d: she is of good esteem,Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;Beside, so qualified as may beseemThe spouse of any noble gentleman. Let me embrace with old Vincentio;And wander we to see thy honest son,Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. VINCENTIO. But is this true? or is it else your pleasure,Like pleasant travellers, to break a jestUpon the company you overtake? HORTENSIO. I do assure thee, father, so it is. PETRUCHIO. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. [Exeunt all but Hortensio. ]HORTENSIO. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. Have to my widow! and if she be froward,Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. [Exit. ]ACT VSCENE I. Padua. Before LUCENTIO’S house. Enter on one side Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca; Gremio walking on other side. BIONDELLO. Softly and swiftly, sir, for the priest is ready. LUCENTIO. I fly, Biondello; but they may chance to need thee athome, therefore leave us. BIONDELLO. Nay, faith, I’ll see the church o’ your back; and thencome back to my master’s as soon as I can. [Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca and Biondello. ]GREMIO. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. Enter Petruchio, Katherina, Vincentio and Attendants. PETRUCHIO. Sir, here’s the door; this is Lucentio’s house:My father’s bears more toward the market-place;Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir. VINCENTIO. You shall not choose but drink before you go. I think I shall command your welcome here,And by all likelihood some cheer is toward. [Knocks. ]GREMIO. They’re busy within; you were best knock louder. Enter Pedant above, at a window. PEDANT. What’s he that knocks as he would beat down the gate? VINCENTIO. Is Signior Lucentio within, sir? PEDANT. He’s within, sir, but not to be spoken withal. VINCENTIO. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to makemerry withal? PEDANT. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall need none solong as I live. PETRUCHIO. Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. Doyou hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tellSignior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is hereat the door to speak with him. PEDANT. Thou liest: his father is come from Padua, and here lookingout at the window. VINCENTIO. Art thou his father? PEDANT. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her. PETRUCHIO. [To Vincentio] Why, how now, gentleman! why, this is flatknavery to take upon you another man’s name. PEDANT. Lay hands on the villain: I believe a means to cozensomebody in this city under my countenance. Re-enter Biondello. BIONDELLO. I have seen them in the church together: God send ’emgood shipping! But who is here? Mine old master, Vincentio! Nowwe are undone and brought to nothing. VINCENTIO. [Seeing Biondello. ] Come hither, crack-hemp. BIONDELLO. I hope I may choose, sir. VINCENTIO. Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me? BIONDELLO. Forgot you! No, sir: I could not forget you, for I neversaw you before in all my life. VINCENTIO. What, you notorious villain! didst thou never see thymaster’s father, Vincentio? BIONDELLO. What, my old worshipful old master? Yes, marry, sir; seewhere he looks out of the window. VINCENTIO. Is’t so, indeed? [He beats Biondello. ]BIONDELLO. Help, help, help! here’s a madman will murder me. [Exit. ]PEDANT. Help, son! help, Signior Baptista! [Exit from the window. ]PETRUCHIO. Prithee, Kate, let’s stand aside and see the end of thiscontroversy. [They retire. ]Re-enter Pedant, below; Baptista, Tranio and Servants. TRANIO. Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant? VINCENTIO. What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet, a velvet hose, a scarlet cloak,and a copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone! While I play thegood husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at theuniversity.

TRANIO. How now! what’s the matter? BAPTISTA. What, is the man lunatic? TRANIO. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit, butyour words show you a madman. Why, sir, what ’cerns it you if Iwear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am able tomaintain it. VINCENTIO. Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo. BAPTISTA. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir. Pray, what do youthink is his name? VINCENTIO. His name! As if I knew not his name! I have brought himup ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio. PEDANT. Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio; and he is mineonly son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio. VINCENTIO. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold onhim, I charge you, in the Duke’s name. O, my son, my son! Tellme, thou villain, where is my son, Lucentio? TRANIO. Call forth an officer. Enter one with an Officer. Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, I charge yousee that he be forthcoming. VINCENTIO. Carry me to the gaol! GREMIO. Stay, officer; he shall not go to prison. BAPTISTA. Talk not, Signior Gremio; I say he shall go to prison. GREMIO. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catched inthis business; I dare swear this is the right Vincentio. PEDANT. Swear if thou darest. GREMIO. Nay, I dare not swear it. TRANIO. Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio. GREMIO. Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio. BAPTISTA. Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him! VINCENTIO. Thus strangers may be haled and abus’d: O monstrousvillain! Re-enter Biondello, with Lucentio and Bianca. BIONDELLO. O! we are spoiled; and yonder he is: deny him, forswearhim, or else we are all undone. LUCENTIO. [Kneeling. ] Pardon, sweet father. VINCENTIO. Lives my sweetest son? [Biondello, Tranio and Pedant run out. ]BIANCA. [Kneeling. ] Pardon, dear father. BAPTISTA. How hast thou offended? Where is Lucentio? LUCENTIO. Here’s Lucentio,Right son to the right Vincentio;That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,While counterfeit supposes blear’d thine eyne. GREMIO. Here ’s packing, with a witness, to deceive us all! VINCENTIO. Where is that damned villain, Tranio,That fac’d and brav’d me in this matter so? BAPTISTA. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? BIANCA. Cambio is chang’d into Lucentio. LUCENTIO. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca’s loveMade me exchange my state with Tranio,While he did bear my countenance in the town;And happily I have arriv’d at the lastUnto the wished haven of my bliss. What Tranio did, myself enforc’d him to;Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. VINCENTIO. I’ll slit the villain’s nose that would have sent me tothe gaol. BAPTISTA. [To Lucentio. ] But do you hear, sir? Have you married mydaughter without asking my good will? VINCENTIO. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but Iwill in, to be revenged for this villainy. [Exit. ]BAPTISTA. And I to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit. ]LUCENTIO. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. ]GREMIO. My cake is dough, but I’ll in among the rest;Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. [Exit. ]Petruchio and Katherina advance. KATHERINA. Husband, let’s follow to see the end of this ado. PETRUCHIO. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. KATHERINA. What! in the midst of the street? PETRUCHIO. What! art thou ashamed of me? KATHERINA. No, sir; God forbid; but ashamed to kiss. PETRUCHIO. Why, then, let’s home again. Come, sirrah, let’s away. KATHERINA. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay. PETRUCHIO. Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate:Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt. ]SCENE II. A room in LUCENTIO’S house. Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, thePedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Petruchio, Katherina, Hortensio andWidow. Tranio, Biondello and Grumioand Others, attending. LUCENTIO. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:And time it is when raging war is done,To smile at ’scapes and perils overblown. My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. Brother Petruchio, sister Katherina,And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:My banquet is to close our stomachs up,After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down;For now we sit to chat as well as eat. [They sit at table. ]PETRUCHIO. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! BAPTISTA. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. PETRUCHIO. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. HORTENSIO. For both our sakes I would that word were true. PETRUCHIO. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. WIDOW. Then never trust me if I be afeard.

PETRUCHIO. You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:I mean Hortensio is afeard of you. WIDOW. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. PETRUCHIO. Roundly replied. KATHERINA. Mistress, how mean you that? WIDOW. Thus I conceive by him. PETRUCHIO. Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? HORTENSIO. My widow says thus she conceives her tale. PETRUCHIO. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. KATHERINA. ’He that is giddy thinks the world turns round’:I pray you tell me what you meant by that. WIDOW. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,Measures my husband’s sorrow by his woe;And now you know my meaning. KATHERINA. A very mean meaning. WIDOW. Right, I mean you. KATHERINA. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. PETRUCHIO. To her, Kate! HORTENSIO. To her, widow! PETRUCHIO. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. HORTENSIO. That’s my office. PETRUCHIO. Spoke like an officer: ha’ to thee, lad. [Drinks to Hortensio. ]BAPTISTA. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? GREMIO. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. BIANCA. Head and butt! An hasty-witted bodyWould say your head and butt were head and horn. VINCENTIO. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken’d you? BIANCA. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I’ll sleep again. PETRUCHIO. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun,Have at you for a bitter jest or two. BIANCA. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush,And then pursue me as you draw your bow. You are welcome all. [Exeunt Bianca, Katherina and Widow. ]PETRUCHIO. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio;This bird you aim’d at, though you hit her not:Therefore a health to all that shot and miss’d. TRANIO. O, sir! Lucentio slipp’d me like his greyhound,Which runs himself, and catches for his master. PETRUCHIO. A good swift simile, but something currish. TRANIO. ’Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:’Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. BAPTISTA. O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. LUCENTIO. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. HORTENSIO. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here? PETRUCHIO. A has a little gall’d me, I confess;And as the jest did glance away from me,’Tis ten to one it maim’d you two outright. BAPTISTA. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. PETRUCHIO. Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance,Let’s each one send unto his wife,And he whose wife is most obedient,To come at first when he doth send for her,Shall win the wager which we will propose. HORTENSIO. Content. What’s the wager? LUCENTIO. Twenty crowns. PETRUCHIO. Twenty crowns! I’ll venture so much of my hawk or hound,But twenty times so much upon my wife. LUCENTIO. A hundred then. HORTENSIO. Content. PETRUCHIO. A match! ’tis done. HORTENSIO. Who shall begin? LUCENTIO. That will I. Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. BIONDELLO. I go. [Exit. ]BAPTISTA. Son, I’ll be your half, Bianca comes. LUCENTIO. I’ll have no halves; I’ll bear it all myself. Re-enter Biondello. How now! what news? BIONDELLO. Sir, my mistress sends you wordThat she is busy and she cannot come. PETRUCHIO. How! She’s busy, and she cannot come! Is that an answer? GREMIO. Ay, and a kind one too:Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. PETRUCHIO. I hope better. HORTENSIO. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wifeTo come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. ]PETRUCHIO. O, ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come. HORTENSIO. I am afraid, sir,Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. Re-enter Biondello. Now, where’s my wife? BIONDELLO. She says you have some goodly jest in hand:She will not come; she bids you come to her. PETRUCHIO. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile,Intolerable, not to be endur’d! Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress,Say I command her come to me. [Exit Grumio. ]HORTENSIO. I know her answer. PETRUCHIO. What? HORTENSIO. She will not. PETRUCHIO. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Re-enter Katherina.

BAPTISTA. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina! KATHERINA. What is your will sir, that you send for me? PETRUCHIO. Where is your sister, and Hortensio’s wife? KATHERINA. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. PETRUCHIO. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come,Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit Katherina. ]LUCENTIO. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. HORTENSIO. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes. PETRUCHIO. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,An awful rule, and right supremacy;And, to be short, what not that’s sweet and happy. BAPTISTA. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio! The wager thou hast won; and I will addUnto their losses twenty thousand crowns;Another dowry to another daughter,For she is chang’d, as she had never been. PETRUCHIO. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,And show more sign of her obedience,Her new-built virtue and obedience. See where she comes, and brings your froward wivesAs prisoners to her womanly persuasion. Re-enter Katherina with Bianca and Widow. Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not:Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot. [Katherina pulls off her cap and throws it down. ]WIDOW. Lord, let me never have a cause to sighTill I be brought to such a silly pass! BIANCA. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? LUCENTIO. I would your duty were as foolish too;The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time! BIANCA. The more fool you for laying on my duty. PETRUCHIO. Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong womenWhat duty they do owe their lords and husbands. WIDOW. Come, come, you’re mocking; we will have no telling. PETRUCHIO. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. WIDOW. She shall not. PETRUCHIO. I say she shall: and first begin with her. KATHERINA. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,And dart not scornful glances from those eyesTo wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,And in no sense is meet or amiable. A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled,Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;And while it is so, none so dry or thirstyWill deign to sip or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,And for thy maintenance commits his bodyTo painful labour both by sea and land,To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;And craves no other tribute at thy handsBut love, fair looks, and true obedience;Too little payment for so great a debt. Such duty as the subject owes the prince,Even such a woman oweth to her husband;And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,And not obedient to his honest will,What is she but a foul contending rebelAnd graceless traitor to her loving lord? —I am asham’d that women are so simpleTo offer war where they should kneel for peace,Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,But that our soft conditions and our heartsShould well agree with our external parts? Come, come, you froward and unable worms! My mind hath been as big as one of yours,My heart as great, my reason haply more,To bandy word for word and frown for frown;But now I see our lances are but straws,Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,And place your hands below your husband’s foot:In token of which duty, if he please,My hand is ready; may it do him ease. PETRUCHIO. Why, there’s a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. LUCENTIO. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha’t. VINCENTIO. ’Tis a good hearing when children are toward. LUCENTIO. But a harsh hearing when women are froward. PETRUCHIO. Come, Kate, we’ll to bed. We three are married, but you two are sped. ’Twas I won the wager,[To Lucentio. ] though you hit the white;And being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt Petrucio and Katherina. ]HORTENSIO. Now go thy ways; thou hast tam’d a curst shrew. LUCENTIO. ’Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam’d so. [Exeunt. ]*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TAMING OF THE SHREW ***Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions willbe renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U. S. copyrightlaw means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,so the Foundation (and you! ) can copy and distribute it in theUnited States without permission and without paying copyrightroyalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use partof this license, apply to copying and distributing ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tmconcept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark,and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by followingthe terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for useof the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything forcopies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is veryeasy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creationof derivative works, reports, performances and research. ProjectGutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you maydo practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protectedby U. S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademarklicense, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSETHE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSEPLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORKTo protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the FullProject Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online atwww. gutenberg. org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works1. A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree toand accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by allthe terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return ordestroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in yourpossession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to aProject Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be boundby the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from theperson or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph1. E. 8. 1. B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic workseven without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1. C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of thisagreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic works. See paragraph 1. E below. 1. C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("theFoundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collectionof Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individualworks in the collection are in the public domain in the UnitedStates. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in theUnited States and you are located in the United States, we do notclaim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long asall references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hopethat you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promotingfree access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tmworks in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping theProject Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easilycomply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in thesame format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License whenyou share it without charge with others. 1. D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also governwhat you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries arein a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States,check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of thisagreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing,distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or anyother Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes norepresentations concerning the copyright status of any work in anycountry other than the United States. 1. E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:1. E. 1. The following sentence, with active links to, or otherimmediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appearprominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any workon which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which thephrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed,performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1. E. 2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work isderived from texts not protected by U. S. copyright law (does notcontain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of thecopyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone inthe United States without paying any fees or charges. If you areredistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must complyeither with the requirements of paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 orobtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tmtrademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. E.

8 or 1. E. 9. 1. E. 3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is postedwith the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distributionmust comply with both paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 and anyadditional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional termswill be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all worksposted with the permission of the copyright holder found at thebeginning of this work. 1. E. 4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense terms from this work, or any files containing a part of thiswork or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1. E. 5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. E. 1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg-tm License. 1. E. 6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, includingany word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide accessto or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a formatother than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the officialversion posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website(www. gutenberg. org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expenseto the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a meansof obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "PlainVanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include thefull Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1. E. 1. 1. E. 7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm worksunless you comply with paragraph 1. E. 8 or 1. E. 9. 1. E. 8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providingaccess to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic worksprovided that:* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. * You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. F. 3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. * You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1. E. 9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms thanare set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writingfrom the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager ofthe Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as setforth in Section 3 below. 1. F. 1. F. 1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadworks not protected by U. S. copyright law in creating the ProjectGutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, maycontain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurateor corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or otherintellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk orother medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage orcannot be read by your equipment. 1. F. 2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Rightof Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1. F. 3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1. F. 3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE. 1. F. 3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending awritten explanation to the person you received the work from. If youreceived the work on a physical medium, you must return the mediumwith your written explanation. The person or entity that provided youwith the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy inlieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the personor entity providing it to you may choose to give you a secondopportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. Ifthe second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writingwithout further opportunities to fix the problem. 1. F. 4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1. F. 3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NOOTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOTLIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1. F. 5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain impliedwarranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types ofdamages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreementviolates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, theagreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer orlimitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity orunenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void theremaining provisions. 1. F. 6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, thetrademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyoneproviding copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works inaccordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with theproduction, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses,including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any ofthe following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of thisor any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, oradditions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) anyDefect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tmProject Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution ofelectronic works in formats readable by the widest variety ofcomputers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. Itexists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donationsfrom people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm'sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and futuregenerations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, seeSections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page atwww. gutenberg. orgSection 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive FoundationThe Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted byU. S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West,Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and upto date contact information can be found at the Foundation's websiteand official page at www. gutenberg. org/contactSection 4. Information about Donations to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive FoundationProject Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive withoutwidespread public support and donations to carry out its mission ofincreasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can befreely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widestarray of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exemptstatus with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulatingcharities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the UnitedStates. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes aconsiderable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep upwith these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locationswhere we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SENDDONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particularstate visit www. gutenberg. org/donateWhile we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where wehave not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibitionagainst accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states whoapproach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot makeany statements concerning tax treatment of donations received fromoutside the United States. U. S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. Todonate, please visit: www. gutenberg. org/donateSection 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic worksProfessor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the ProjectGutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could befreely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced anddistributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network ofvolunteer support. Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright inthe U. S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do notnecessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paperedition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG searchfacility: www. gutenberg. orgThis website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how tosubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tempest, by William ShakespeareThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. orgTitle: The Tempest The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [9 vols. ]Author: William ShakespeareEditor: William George Clark John GloverRelease Date: October 26, 2007 [EBook #23042]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: UTF-8*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEMPEST ***Produced by Louise Hope, Jonathan Ingram and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)[Transcriber’s Note:This text uses utf-8 (unicode) file encoding. If the apostrophes andquotation marks in this paragraph appear as garbage, make sure yourtext reader’s “character set” or “file encoding” is set to Unicode(UTF-8). You may also need to change the default font. As a lastresort, use the ascii-7 version of the file instead. The text of _The Tempest_ is from Volume I of the nine-volume 1863Cambridge edition of Shakespeare. The Preface (e-text 23041) and theother plays from this volume are each available as separate e-texts. General Notes are in their original location at the end of the play. Text-critical notes are grouped at the end of each Scene. All linenumbers are from the original text; line breaks in dialogue--includingprose passages--are unchanged. Brackets are also unchanged; to avoidambiguity, footnotes and linenotes are given without added brackets. In the notes, numerals printed as subscripts are shown inline asF1, F2, Q1. . . . Texts cited in the Notes are listed at the end of the e-text. ] THE WORKS of WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Edited by WILLIAM GEORGE CLARK, M. A. Fellow and Tutor of Trinity College, and Public Orator in the University of Cambridge; and JOHN GLOVER, M. A. Librarian Of Trinity College, Cambridge. _VOLUME I. _ Cambridge and London: MACMILLAN AND CO. 1863. THE TEMPEST. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ[1]. ALONSO, King of Naples. SEBASTIAN, his brother. PROSPERO, the right Duke of Milan. ANTONIO, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. FERDINAND, son to the King of Naples. GONZALO, an honest old Counsellor. ADRIAN, Lord FRANCISCO, „ CALIBAN, a savage and deformed Slave. TRINCULO, a Jester. STEPHANO, a drunken Butler. Master of a Ship. Boatswain. Mariners. MIRANDA, daughter to Prospero. ARIEL, an airy Spirit. IRIS, presented by[2] Spirits. CERES, „ „ JUNO, „ „ Nymphs, „ „ Reapers, „ „ Other Spirits attending on Prospero[3]. SCENE--_A ship at sea[4]: an uninhabited island. _ Footnotes: 1: DRAMATIS PERSONÆ] NAMES OF THE ACTORS F1 at the end of the Play. 2: _presented by_] Edd. 3: _Other . . . Prospero_] Theobald. 4: A ship at sea:] At sea: Capell. ]THE TEMPEST. ACT I. SCENE I. _On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise of thunderand lightning heard. _ _Enter _a Ship-Master_ and _a Boatswain_. __Mast. _ Boatswain! _Boats. _ Here, master: what cheer? _Mast. _ Good, speak to the mariners: fall to’t, yarely, orwe run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir. [_Exit. _ _Enter _Mariners_. __Boats. _ Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts! 5yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the master’swhistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if room enough! _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others. __Alon. _ Good boatswain, have care. Where’s the master? Play the men. _Boats. _ I pray now, keep below. 10_Ant. _ Where is the master, boatswain? _Boats. _ Do you not hear him? You mar our labour:keep your cabins: you do assist the storm. _Gon. _ Nay, good, be patient. _Boats. _ When the sea is. Hence! What cares these 15roarers for the name of king? To cabin: silence! troubleus not. _Gon. _ Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard. _Boats. _ None that I more love than myself. You are aCounsellor; if you can command these elements to silence, 20and work the peace of the present, we will not hand a ropemore; use your authority: if you cannot, give thanks youhave lived so long, and make yourself ready in your cabinfor the mischance of the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, goodhearts! Out of our way, I say. [_Exit. _ 25_Gon. _ I have great comfort from this fellow: methinkshe hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion isperfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging:make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own dothlittle advantage. If he be not born to be hanged, our case 30is miserable. [_Exeunt. _ _Re-enter Boatswain. __Boats. _ Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring her to try with main-course. [_A cry within. _] Aplague upon this howling! they are louder than the weatheror our office. 35 _Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO. _Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o’er, anddrown? Have you a mind to sink? _Seb. _ A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,incharitable dog! _Boats. _ Work you, then. 40_Ant. _ Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noise-maker. We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art. _Gon. _ I’ll warrant him for drowning; though the shipwere no stronger than a nutshell, and as leaky as an unstanchedwench. 45_Boats. _ Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses offto sea again; lay her off. _Enter _Mariners_ wet. __Mariners. _ All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost! _Boats. _ What, must our mouths be cold? _Gon. _ The king and prince at prayers! let’s assist them, 50For our case is as theirs. _Seb. _ I’m out of patience. _Ant. _ We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:This wide-chapp’d rascal,--would thou mightst lie drowningThe washing of ten tides! _Gon. _ He’ll be hang’d yet,Though every drop of water swear against it, 55And gape at widest to glut him. [_A confused noise within:_ “Mercy on us! ”-- “We split, we split! ”-- “Farewell my wife and children! ”-- “Farewell, brother! ”-- “We split, we split, we split! ”]_Ant. _ Let’s all sink with the king. 60_Seb. _ Let’s take leave of him. [_Exeunt Ant. and Seb. __Gon. _ Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea foran acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, anything. The wills above be done! but I would fain die adry death. [_Exeunt. _ 65 Notes: I, 1. SC. I. On a ship at sea] Pope. Enter . . . Boatswain] Collier MS. adds ‘shaking off wet. ’ 3: _Good,_] Rowe. _Good:_ Ff. _Good. _ Collier. 7: _till thou burst thy wind_] _till thou burst, wind_ Johnson conj. _till thou burst thee, wind_ Steevens conj. 8: Capell adds stage direction [Exeunt Mariners aloft. 11: _boatswain_] Pope. _boson_ Ff. 11-18: Verse.

S. Walker conj. 15: _cares_] _care_ Rowe. See note (I). 31: [Exeunt] Theobald. [Exit. Ff. 33: _Bring her to try_] F4. _Bring her to Try_ F1 F2 F3. _Bring her to. Try_ Story conj. 33-35: Text as in Capell. _A plague_--A cry within. Enter Sebastian, Anthonio, and Gonzalo. _upon this howling. _ Ff. 34-37: Verse. S. Walker conj. 43: _for_] _from_ Theobald. 46: _two courses off to sea_] _two courses; off to sea_ Steevens (Holt conj. ). 46: [Enter. . . ] [Re-enter. . . Dyce. 47: [Exeunt. Theobald. 50: _at_] _are at_ Rowe. 50-54: Printed as prose in Ff. 56: _to glut_] _t’ englut_ Johnson conj. 57: See note (II). 59: _Farewell, brother! _] _Brother, farewell! _ Theobald. 60: _with the_] Rowe. _with’_ F1 F2. _with_ F3 F4. 61: [Exeunt A. and S. ] [Exit. Ff. 63: _furze_ Rowe. _firrs_ F1 F2 F3. _firs_ F4. _long heath, brown furze_] _ling, heath, broom, furze_ Hanmer. ] 65: [Exeunt] [Exit F1, om. F2 F3 F4. ]SCENE II. _The island. Before PROSPERO’S cell. _ _Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA. __Mir. _ If by your art, my dearest father, you havePut the wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,But that the sea, mounting to the welkin’s cheek,Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer’d 5With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel,Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,Dash’d all to pieces. O, the cry did knockAgainst my very heart! Poor souls, they perish’d! Had I been any god of power, I would 10Have sunk the sea within the earth, or ereIt should the good ship so have swallow’d andThe fraughting souls within her. _Pros. _ Be collected:No more amazement: tell your piteous heartThere’s no harm done. _Mir. _ O, woe the day! _Pros. _ No harm. 15I have done nothing but in care of thee,Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, whoArt ignorant of what thou art, nought knowingOf whence I am, nor that I am more betterThan Prospero, master of a full poor cell, 20And thy no greater father. _Mir. _ More to knowDid never meddle with my thoughts. _Pros. _ ’Tis timeI should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,And pluck my magic garment from me. --So: [_Lays down his mantle. _Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort. 25The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch’dThe very virtue of compassion in thee,I have with such provision in mine artSo safely order’d, that there is no soul,No, not so much perdition as an hair 30Betid to any creature in the vesselWhich thou heard’st cry, which thou saw’st sink. Sit down;For thou must now know farther. _Mir. _ You have oftenBegun to tell me what I am; but stopp’d,And left me to a bootless inquisition, 35Concluding “Stay: not yet. ”_Pros. _ The hour’s now come;The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;Obey, and be attentive. Canst thou rememberA time before we came unto this cell? I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not 40Out three years old. _Mir. _ Certainly, sir, I can. _Pros. _ By what? by any other house or person? Of any thing the image tell me thatHath kept with thy remembrance. _Mir. _ ’Tis far off,And rather like a dream than an assurance 45That my remembrance warrants. Had I notFour or five women once that tended me? _Pros. _ Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is itThat this lives in thy mind? What seest thou elseIn the dark backward and abysm of time? 50If thou remember’st ought ere thou camest here,How thou camest here thou mayst. _Mir. _ But that I do not. _Pros. _ Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,Thy father was the Duke of Milan, andA prince of power. _Mir. _ Sir, are not you my father? 55_Pros. _ Thy mother was a piece of virtue, andShe said thou wast my daughter; and thy fatherWas Duke of Milan; and his only heirAnd princess, no worse issued. _Mir. _ O the heavens! What foul play had we, that we came from thence? 60Or blessed was’t we did? _Pros. _ Both, both, my girl:By foul play, as thou say’st, were we heaved thence;But blessedly holp hither. _Mir. _ O, my heart bleedsTo think o’ the teen that I have turn’d you to. Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther. 65_Pros. _ My brother, and thy uncle, call’d Antonio,--I pray thee, mark me,--that a brother shouldBe so perfidious! --he whom, next thyself,Of all the world I loved, and to him putThe manage of my state; as, at that time, 70Through all the signories it was the first,And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputedIn dignity, and for the liberal artsWithout a parallel; those being all my study,The government I cast upon my brother, 75And to my state grew stranger, being transportedAnd rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--Dost thou attend me? _Mir. _ Sir, most heedfully. _Pros. _ Being once perfected how to grant suits,How to deny them, whom to advance, and whom 80To trash for over-topping, new createdThe creatures that were mine, I say, or changed ’em,Or else new form’d ’em; having both the keyOf officer and office, set all hearts i’ the stateTo what tune pleased his ear; that now he was 85The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,And suck’d my verdure out on’t. Thou attend’st not. _Mir. _ O, good sir, I do. _Pros. _ I pray thee, mark me. I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicatedTo closeness and the bettering of my mind 90With that which, but by being so retired,O’er-prized all popular rate, in my false brotherAwaked an evil nature; and my trust,Like a good parent, did beget of himA falsehood in its contrary, as great 95As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,Not only with what my revenue yielded,But what my power might else exact, like oneWho having into truth, by telling of it, 100Made such a sinner of his memory,To credit his own lie, he did believeHe was indeed the duke; out o’ the substitution,And executing the outward face of royalty,With all prerogative:--hence his ambition growing,-- 105Dost thou hear? _Mir. _ Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. _Pros. _ To have no screen between this part he play’dAnd him he play’d it for, he needs will beAbsolute Milan. Me, poor man, my libraryWas dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties 110He thinks me now incapable; confederates,So dry he was for sway, wi’ the King of NaplesTo give him annual tribute, do him homage,Subject his coronet to his crown, and bendThe dukedom, yet unbow’d,--alas, poor Milan! -- 115To most ignoble stooping. _Mir. _ O the heavens! _Pros. _ Mark his condition, and th’ event; then tell meIf this might be a brother. _Mir. _ I should sinTo think but nobly of my grandmother:Good wombs have borne bad sons. _Pros. _ Now the condition. 120This King of Naples, being an enemyTo me inveterate, hearkens my brother’s suit;Which was, that he, in lieu o’ the premises,Of homage and I know not how much tribute,Should presently extirpate me and mine 125Out of the dukedom, and confer fair Milan,With all the honours, on my brother: whereon,A treacherous army levied, one midnightFated to the purpose, did Antonio openThe gates of Milan; and, i’ the dead of darkness, 130The ministers for the purpose hurried thenceMe and thy crying self. _Mir. _ Alack, for pity! I, not remembering how I cried out then,Will cry it o’er again: it is a hintThat wrings mine eyes to’t. _Pros. _ Hear a little further, 135And then I’ll bring thee to the present businessWhich now’s upon ’s; without the which, this storyWere most impertinent. _Mir. _ Wherefore did they notThat hour destroy us? _Pros. _ Well demanded, wench:My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not, 140So dear the love my people bore me; nor setA mark so bloody on the business; butWith colours fairer painted their foul ends. In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared 145A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg’d,Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very ratsInstinctively have quit it: there they hoist us,To cry to the sea that roar’d to us; to sighTo the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, 150Did us but loving wrong. _Mir. _ Alack, what troubleWas I then to you! _Pros. _ O, a cherubinThou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile,Infused with a fortitude from heaven,When I have deck’d the sea with drops full salt, 155Under my burthen groan’d; which raised in meAn undergoing stomach, to bear upAgainst what should ensue. _Mir. _ How came we ashore? _Pros. _ By Providence divine. Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 160A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,Out of his charity, who being then appointedMaster of this design, did give us, withRich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness, 165Knowing I loved my books, he furnish’d meFrom mine own library with volumes thatI prize above my dukedom. _Mir. _ Would I mightBut ever see that man! _Pros. _ Now I arise: [_Resumes his mantle. _Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 170Here in this island we arrived; and hereHave I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profitThan other princesses can, that have more timeFor vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. _Mir. _ Heavens thank you for’t! And now, I pray you, sir, 175For still ’tis beating in my mind, your reasonFor raising this sea-storm? _Pros. _ Know thus far forth. By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,Now my dear lady, hath mine enemiesBrought to this shore; and by my prescience 180I find my zenith doth depend uponA most auspicious star, whose influenceIf now I court not, but omit, my fortunesWill ever after droop. Here cease more questions:Thou art inclined to sleep; ’tis a good dulness, 185And give it way: I know thou canst not choose. [_Miranda sleeps. _Come away, servant, come. I am ready now. Approach, my Ariel, come.

_Enter _ARIEL_. __Ari. _ All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I comeTo answer thy best pleasure; be’t to fly, 190To swim, to dive into the fire, to rideOn the curl’d clouds, to thy strong bidding taskAriel and all his quality. _Pros. _ Hast thou, spirit,Perform’d to point the tempest that I bade thee? _Ari. _ To every article. 195I boarded the king’s ship; now on the beak,Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,I flamed amazement: sometime I’ld divide,And burn in many places; on the topmast,The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly, 200Then meet and join. Jove’s lightnings, the precursorsO’ the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentaryAnd sight-outrunning were not: the fire and cracksOf sulphurous roaring the most mighty NeptuneSeem to besiege, and make his bold waves tremble, 205Yea, his dread trident shake. _Pros. _ My brave spirit! Who was so firm, so constant, that this coilWould not infect his reason? _Ari. _ Not a soulBut felt a fever of the mad, and play’dSome tricks of desperation. All but mariners 210Plunged in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel,Then all afire with me: the king’s son, Ferdinand,With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--Was the first man that leap’d; cried, “Hell is empty,And all the devils are here. ”_Pros. _ Why, that’s my spirit! 215But was not this nigh shore? _Ari. _ Close by, my master. _Pros. _ But are they, Ariel, safe? _Ari. _ Not a hair perish’d;On their sustaining garments not a blemish,But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,In troops I have dispersed them ’bout the isle. 220The king’s son have I landed by himself;Whom I left cooling of the air with sighsIn an odd angle of the isle, and sitting,His arms in this sad knot. _Pros. _ Of the king’s shipThe mariners, say how thou hast disposed, 225And all the rest o’ the fleet. _Ari. _ Safely in harbourIs the king’s ship; in the deep nook, where onceThou call’dst me up at midnight to fetch dewFrom the still-vex’d Bermoothes, there she’s hid:The mariners all under hatches stow’d; 230Who, with a charm join’d to their suffer’d labour,I have left asleep: and for the rest o’ the fleet,Which I dispersed, they all have met again,And are upon the Mediterranean flote,Bound sadly home for Naples; 235Supposing that they saw the king’s ship wreck’d,And his great person perish. _Pros. _ Ariel, thy chargeExactly is perform’d: but there’s more work. What is the time o’ the day? _Ari. _ Past the mid season. _Pros. _ At least two glasses. The time ’twixt six and now 240Must by us both be spent most preciously. _Ari. _ Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,Which is not yet perform’d me. _Pros. _ How now? moody? What is’t thou canst demand? _Ari. _ My liberty. 245_Pros. _ Before the time be out? no more! _Ari. _ I prithee,Remember I have done thee worthy service;Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, servedWithout or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promiseTo bate me a full year. _Pros. _ Dost thou forget 250From what a torment I did free thee? _Ari. _ No. _Pros. _ Thou dost; and think’st it much to tread the oozeOf the salt deep,To run upon the sharp wind of the north,To do me business in the veins o’ the earth 255When it is baked with frost. _Ari. _ I do not, sir. _Pros. _ Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgotThe foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envyWas grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her? _Ari. _ No, sir. _Pros. _ Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me. 260_Ari. _ Sir, in Argier. _Pros. _ O, was she so? I mustOnce in a month recount what thou hast been,Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax,For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terribleTo enter human hearing, from Argier, 265Thou know’st, was banish’d: for one thing she didThey would not take her life. Is not this true? _Ari. _ Ay, sir. _Pros. _ This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child,And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave, 270As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant;And, for thou wast a spirit too delicateTo act her earthy and abhorr’d commands,Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,By help of her more potent ministers, 275And in her most unmitigable rage,Into a cloven pine; within which riftImprison’d thou didst painfully remainA dozen years; within which space she died,And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans 280As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--Save for the son that she did litter here,A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour’d withA human shape. _Ari. _ Yes, Caliban her son. _Pros. _ Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, 285Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’stWhat torment I did find thee in; thy groansDid make wolves howl, and penetrate the breastsOf ever-angry bears: it was a tormentTo lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax 290Could not again undo: it was mine art,When I arrived and heard thee, that made gapeThe pine, and let thee out. _Ari. _ I thank thee, master. _Pros. _ If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak,And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till 295Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters. _Ari. _ Pardon, master:I will be correspondent to command,And do my spiriting gently. _Pros. _ Do so; and after two daysI will discharge thee. _Ari. _ That’s my noble master! What shall I do? say what; what shall I do? 300_Pros. _ Go make thyself like a nymph o’ the sea:Be subject to no sight but thine and mine; invisibleTo every eyeball else. Go take this shape,And hither come in’t: go, hence with diligence! [_Exit Ariel. _Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; 305Awake! _Mir. _ The strangeness of your story putHeaviness in me. _Pros. _ Shake it off. Come on;We’ll visit Caliban my slave, who neverYields us kind answer. _Mir. _ ’Tis a villain, sir,I do not love to look on. _Pros. _ But, as ’tis, 310We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,Fetch in our wood, and serves in officesThat profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban! Thou earth, thou! speak. _Cal. _ [_within_] There’s wood enough within. _Pros. _ Come forth, I say! there’s other business for thee: 315Come, thou tortoise! when? _Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph. _Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,Hark in thine ear. _Ari. _ My lord, it shall be done. [_Exit. __Pros. _ Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam, come forth! 320 _Enter CALIBAN. __Cal. _ As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’dWith raven’s feather from unwholesome fenDrop on you both! a south-west blow on yeAnd blister you all o’er! _Pros. _ For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, 325Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchinsShall, for that vast of night that they may work,All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’dAs thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stingingThan bees that made ’em. _Cal. _ I must eat my dinner. 330This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother,Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,Thou strokedst me, and madest much of me; wouldst give meWater with berries in’t; and teach me howTo name the bigger light, and how the less, 335That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee,And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle,The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:Curs’d be I that did so! All the charmsOf Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 340For I am all the subjects that you have,Which first was mine own king: and here you sty meIn this hard rock, whiles you do keep from meThe rest o’ th’ island. _Pros. _ Thou most lying slave,Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee, 345Filth as thou art, with human care; and lodged theeIn mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violateThe honour of my child. _Cal. _ O ho, O ho! would ’t had been done! Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 350This isle with Calibans. _Pros. _ Abhorred slave,Which any print of goodness wilt not take,Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hourOne thing or other: when thou didst not, savage, 355Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble likeA thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposesWith words that made them known. But thy vile race,Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good naturesCould not abide to be with; therefore wast thou 360Deservedly confined into this rock,Who hadst deserved more than a prison. _Cal. _ You taught me language; and my profit on’tIs, I know how to curse. The red plague rid youFor learning me your language! _Pros. _ Hag-seed, hence! 365Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou’rt best,To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? If thou neglect’st, or dost unwillinglyWhat I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, 370That beasts shall tremble at thy din. _Cal. _ No, pray thee. [_Aside_] I must obey: his art is of such power,It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,And make a vassal of him. _Pros. _ So, slave; hence! [_Exit Caliban. _ _Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following. __ARIEL’S song. _ Come unto these yellow sands, 375 And then take hands: Courtsied when you have and kiss’d The wild waves whist: Foot it featly here and there; And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. 380 _Burthen_ [_dispersedly_]. Hark, hark! Bow-wow. The watch-dogs bark: Bow-wow. _Ari. _ Hark, hark! I hear The strain of strutting chanticleer 385 Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. _Fer. _ Where should this music be? i’ th’ air or th’ earth? It sounds no more: and, sure, it waits uponSome god o’ th’ island.

Sitting on a bank,Weeping again the king my father’s wreck, 390This music crept by me upon the waters,Allaying both their fury and my passionWith its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it. Or it hath drawn me rather. But ’tis gone. No, it begins again. 395_ARIEL sings. _ Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change 400 Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: _Burthen:_ Ding-dong. _Ari. _ Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell. _Fer. _ The ditty does remember my drown’d father. 405This is no mortal business, nor no soundThat the earth owes:--I hear it now above me. _Pros. _ The fringed curtains of thine eye advance,And say what thou seest yond. _Mir. _ What is’t? a spirit? Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, 410It carries a brave form. But ’tis a spirit. _Pros. _ No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such sensesAs we have, such. This gallant which thou seestWas in the wreck; and, but he’s something stain’dWith grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call him 415A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows,And strays about to find ’em. _Mir. _ I might call himA thing divine; for nothing naturalI ever saw so noble. _Pros. _ [_Aside_] It goes on, I see,As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee 420Within two days for this. _Fer. _ Most sure, the goddessOn whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayerMay know if you remain upon this island;And that you will some good instruction giveHow I may bear me here: my prime request, 425Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder! If you be maid or no? _Mir. _ No wonder, sir;But certainly a maid. _Fer. _ My language! heavens! I am the best of them that speak this speech,Were I but where ’tis spoken. _Pros. _ How? the best? 430What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee? _Fer. _ A single thing, as I am now, that wondersTo hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld 435The king my father wreck’d. _Mir. _ Alack, for mercy! _Fer. _ Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of MilanAnd his brave son being twain. _Pros. _ [_Aside_] The Duke of MilanAnd his more braver daughter could control thee,If now ’twere fit to do’t. At the first sight 440They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,I’ll set thee free for this. [_To Fer. _] A word, good sir;I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word. _Mir. _ Why speaks my father so ungently? ThisIs the third man that e’er I saw; the first 445That e’er I sigh’d for: pity move my fatherTo be inclined my way! _Fer. _ O, if a virgin,And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make youThe queen of Naples. _Pros. _ Soft, sir! one word more. [_Aside_] They are both in either’s powers: but this swift business 450I must uneasy make, lest too light winningMake the prize light. [_To Fer. _] One word more; I charge theeThat thou attend me: thou dost here usurpThe name thou owest not; and hast put thyselfUpon this island as a spy, to win it 455From me, the lord on’t. _Fer. _ No, as I am a man. _Mir. _ There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:If the ill spirit have so fair a house,Good things will strive to dwell with’t. _Pros. _ Follow me. Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come; 460I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together:Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall beThe fresh-brook muscles, wither’d roots, and husksWherein the acorn cradled. Follow. _Fer. _ No;I will resist such entertainment till 465Mine enemy has more power. [_Draws, and is charmed from moving. __Mir. _ O dear father,Make not too rash a trial of him, forHe’s gentle, and not fearful. _Pros. _ What! I say,My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;Who makest a show, but darest not strike, thy conscience 470Is so possess’d with guilt: come from thy ward;For I can here disarm thee with this stickAnd make thy weapon drop. _Mir. _ Beseech you, father. _Pros. _ Hence! hang not on my garments. _Mir. _ Sir, have pity;I’ll be his surety. _Pros. _ Silence! one word more 475Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor! hush! Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban, 480And they to him are angels. _Mir. _ My affectionsAre, then, most humble; I have no ambitionTo see a goodlier man. _Pros. _ Come on; obey:Thy nerves are in their infancy again,And have no vigour in them. _Fer. _ So they are: 485My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father’s loss, the weakness which I feel,The wreck of all my friends, nor this man’s threats,To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,Might I but through my prison once a day 490Behold this maid: all corners else o’ th’ earthLet liberty make use of; space enoughHave I in such a prison. _Pros. _ [_Aside_] It works. [_To Fer. _] Come on. Thou hast done well, fine Ariel! [_To Fer. _] Follow me. [_To Ari. _] Hark what thou else shalt do me. _Mir. _ Be of comfort; 495My father’s of a better nature, sir,Than he appears by speech: this is unwontedWhich now came from him. _Pros. _ Thou shalt be as freeAs mountain winds: but then exactly doAll points of my command. _Ari. _ To the syllable. 500_Pros. _ Come, follow. Speak not for him. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: I, 2. 3: _stinking_] _flaming_ Singer conj. _kindling_ S. Verges conj. 4: _cheek_] _heat_ Collier MS. _crack_ Staunton conj. 7: _creature_] _creatures_ Theobald. 13: _fraughting_] Ff. _fraighted_ Pope. _fraighting_ Theobald. _freighting_ Steevens. 15: Mir. _O, woe the day! _ Pros. _No harm. _] Mir. _O woe the day! no harm? _ Johnson conj. 19: _I am more better_] _I’m more or better_ Pope. 24: [Lays . . . mantle] Pope. 28: _provision_] F1. _compassion_ F2 F3 F4. _prevision_ Hunter conj. 29: _soul_] _soul lost_ Rowe. _foyle_ Theobald. _soil_ Johnson conj. _loss_ Capell. _foul_ Wright conj. 31: _betid_] F1. _betide_ F2 F3 F4. 35: _a_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4. 38: _thou_] om. Pope. 41: _Out_] _Full_ Pope (after Dryden). _Quite_ Collier MS. 44: _with_] _in_ Pope (after Dryden). 53: _Twelve year . . . year_] _Tis twelve years . . . years_ Pope. 58, 59: _and his only heir And princess_] _and his only heir A princess_ Pope. _thou his only heir And princess_ Steevens. _and though his only heir A princess_] Johnson conj. 63: _holp_] _help’d_ Pope. _O, my heart_] _My heart_ Pope. 78: _me_] om. F3 F4. 80: _whom . . . whom_] F2 F3 F4.

_who . . . who_ F1. 81: _trash_] _plash_ Hanmer. 82, 83: _’em . . . ’em_] _them . . . them_ Capell. 84: _i’ the state_] _i’th state_ F1. _e’th state_ F2. _o’th state_ F3 F4. om. Pope. 88: _O, good sir . . . mark me. _] _Good sir . . . mark me then. _ Pope. _O yes, good sir . . . mark me. _ Capell. Mir. _O, . . . do. _ Pros. _I . . . me_] _I . . . me. _ Mir. _O . . . do. _ Steevens. 89: _dedicated_] _dedicate_ Steevens (Ritson conj. ). 91: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. 97: _lorded_] _loaded_ Collier MS. 99: _exact, like_] _exact. Like_ Ff. 100: _having into truth . . . of it_] _loving an untruth, and telling ’t oft_ Hanmer. _having unto truth . . . oft_ Warburton. _having to untruth . . . of it_ Collier MS. _having sinn’d to truth . . . oft_ Musgrave conj. _telling_] _quelling_ S. Verges conj. 101: _Made . . . memory_] _Makes . . . memory_ Hanmer. _Makes . . . memory too_ Musgrave conj. 103: _indeed the duke_] _the duke_ Steevens. _indeed duke_ S. Walker conj. _out o’ the_] _from_ Pope. 105: _his_] _is_ F2. 105, 106: _ambition growing_] _ambition Growing_ Steevens. 106: _hear? _] _hear, child? _ Hanmer. 109: _Milan_] _Millanie_ F1 (Capell’s copy). 112: _wi’ the_] Capell. _with_ Ff. _wi’ th’_ Rowe. _with the_ Steevens. 116: _most_] F1. _much_ F2 F3 F4. 119: _but_] _not_ Pope. 120: _Good . . . sons_] Theobald suggested that these words should be given to Prospero. Hanmer prints them so. 122: _hearkens_] _hears_ Pope. _hearks_ Theobald. 129: _Fated_] _Mated_ Dryden’s version. _purpose_] _practise_ Collier MS. 131: _ministers_] _minister_ Rowe. 133: _out_] _on’t_ Steevens conj. 135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj. ). 138: _Wherefore_] _Why_ Pope. 141: _me_] om. Pope. 146: _boat_] Rowe (after Dryden). _butt_ F1 F2 F3. _but_ F4. _busse_ Black conj. 147: _sail_] F1. _nor sail_ F2 F3 F4. 148: _have_] _had_ Rowe (after Dryden). 150: _the winds_] _winds_ Pope. 155: _deck’d_] _brack’d_ Hanmer. _mock’d_ Warburton. _fleck’d_ Johnson conj. _degg’d_ anon. ap. Reed conj. 162: _who_] om. Pope. _he_ Steevens conj. 169: _Now I arise_] Continued to Miranda. Blackstone conj. [Resumes his mantle] om. Ff. [Put on robe again. Collier MS. 173: _princesses_] _princesse_ F1 F2 F3. _princess_ F4. _princes_ Rowe. _princess’_ Dyce (S. Walker conj. ). See note (III). 186: [M. sleeps] Theobald. 189: SCENE III. Pope. 190: _be’t_] F1. _be it_ F2 F3 F4. 193: _quality_] _qualities_ Pope (after Dryden). 198: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4. 200: _bowsprit_] _bore-sprit_ Ff. _bolt-sprit_ Rowe. 201: _lightnings_] Theobald. _lightning_ Ff. 202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope. _thunder-claps_] _thunder-clap_ Johnson. 205: _Seem_] _Seem’d_ Theobald. 206: _dread_] F1. _dead_ F2 F3 F4. _My brave_] _My brave, brave_ Theobald. _That’s my brave_ Hanmer. 209: _mad_] _mind_ Pope (after Dryden). 211, 212: _vessel, . . . son_] _vessell; Then all a fire with me the King’s sonne_ Ff. 218: _sustaining_] _sea-stained_ Edwards conj. _unstaining_ or _sea-staining_ Spedding conj. 229: _Bermoothes_] _Bermudas_ Theobald. 231: _Who_] _Whom_ Hanmer. 234: _are_] _all_ Collier MS. _upon_] _on_ Pope. 239-240: Ari. _Past the mid season. _ Pros. _At least two glasses_] Ari.

_Past the mid season at least two glasses. _ Warburton. Pros. _. . . Past the mid season? _ Ari. _At least two glasses_ Johnson conj. 244: _How now? moody? _] _How now, moody! _ Dyce (so Dryden, ed. 1808). 245: _What_] F1. _Which_ F2 F3 F4. 248: _made thee_] Ff. _made_ Pope. 249: _didst_] F3 F4. _did_ F1 F2. 264: _and sorceries_] _sorceries too_ Hanmer. 267: _Is not this true? _] _Is this not true? _ Pope. 271: _wast then_] Rowe (after Dryden). _was then_ Ff. 273: _earthy_] _earthly_ Pope. 282: _son_] F1. _sunne_ F2. _sun_ F3 F4. _she_] Rowe (after Dryden). _he_ Ff. 298: See note (IV). 301: _like_] F1. _like to_ F2 F3 F4. 302: _Be subject to_] _be subject To_ Malone. _but thine and mine_] _but mine_ Pope. 304: _in’t_] _in it_ Pope. _go, hence_] _goe: hence_ Ff. _go hence_ Pope. _hence_ Hanmer. 307: _Heaviness_] _Strange heaviness_ Edd. conj. 312: _serves in offices_] F1. _serves offices_ F2 F3 F4. _serveth offices_ Collier MS. 316: _Come, thou tortoise! when? _] om. Pope. _Come_] _Come forth_ Steevens. ] 320: _come forth! _] _come forth, thou tortoise! _ Pope. 321: SCENE IV. Pope. 332: _camest_] Rowe. _cam’st_ Ff. _cam’st here_ Ritson conj. 333: _madest_] Rowe (after Dryden). _made_ Ff. 339: _Curs’d be I that_] F1. _Curs’d be I that I_ F2 F3 F4. _cursed be I that_ Steevens. 342: _Which_] _Who_ Pope, and at line 351. 346: _thee_] om. F4. 349: _would ’t_] Ff. _I wou’d it_ Pope. 351: Pros. ] Theobald (after Dryden). Mira. Ff. 352: _wilt_] F1. _will_ F2 F3 F4. 355, 356: _didst not . . . Know_] _couldst not . . . Shew_ Hanmer. 356: _wouldst_] _didst_ Hanmer. 361, 362: _Deservedly . . . deserved_] _Justly . . . who hadst Deserv’d_ S. Walker conj. _Confin’d . . . deserv’d_ id. conj. 362: _Who . . . prison_] om. Pope (after Dryden). 366: _thou’rt_] F1 F2 F3. _thou art_ F4. _thou wer’t_ Rowe. 375: SCENE V. Pope. following. ] Malone. 378: _The wild waves whist_] Printed as a parenthesis by Steevens. See note (V). 380: _the burthen bear_] Pope. _bear the burthen_ Ff. 381-383: Steevens gives _Hark, hark! The watch-dogs bark_ to Ariel. 387: _i’ th’ air or th’ earth? _] _in air or earth? _ Pope. 390: _again_] _against_ Rowe (after Dryden). 407: _owes_] _owns_ Pope (after Dryden), but leaves _ow’st_ 454. 408: SCENE VI. Pope. 419: _It goes on, I see,_] _It goes, I see_ Capell. _It goes on_ Steevens. 420: _fine spirit! _] om. Hanmer. 427: _maid_] F3. _mayd_ F1 F2. _made_ F4. 443: See note (VI). 444: _ungently_] F1. _urgently_ F2 F3 F4. 451: _lest_] F4. _least_ F1 F2 F3. 452: _One_] _Sir, one_ Pope. _I charge thee_] _I charge thee_ [to Ariel. Pope. 460: Pros. prefixed again to this line in Ff. 468: _and_] _tho’_ Hanmer. 469: _foot_] _fool_ S. Walker conj. _child_ Dryden’s version. 470: _makest_] _mak’st_ F1. _makes_ F2 F3 F4. 471: _so_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. _all_ Pope. 478: _is_] _are_ Rowe. 488: _nor_] _and_ Rowe (after Dryden). _or_ Capell. 489: _are_] _were_ Malone conj. ACT II. SCENE I. _Another part of the island. _ _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. __Gon. _ Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,So have we all, of joy; for our escapeIs much beyond our loss. Our hint of woeIs common; every day, some sailor’s wife,The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, 5Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,I mean our preservation, few in millionsCan speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weighOur sorrow with our comfort. _Alon. _ Prithee, peace. _Seb. _ He receives comfort like cold porridge. 10_Ant. _ The visitor will not give him o’er so. _Seb. _ Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; byand by it will strike. _Gon. _ Sir,--_Seb. _ One: tell. 15_Gon. _ When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d,Comes to the entertainer--_Seb. _ A dollar. _Gon. _ Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spokentruer than you purposed. 20_Seb. _ You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. _Gon. _ Therefore, my lord,--_Ant. _ Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! _Alon. _ I prithee, spare. _Gon. _ Well, I have done: but yet,-- 25_Seb. _ He will be talking.

_Ant. _ Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, firstbegins to crow? _Seb. _ The old cock. _Ant. _ The cockerel. 30_Seb. _ Done. The wager? _Ant. _ A laughter. _Seb. _ A match! _Adr. _ Though this island seem to be desert,--_Seb. _ Ha, ha, ha! --So, you’re paid. 35_Adr. _ Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--_Seb. _ Yet,--_Adr. _ Yet,--_Ant. _ He could not miss’t. _Adr. _ It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate 40temperance. _Ant. _ Temperance was a delicate wench. _Seb. _ Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. _Adr. _ The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. _Seb. _ As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 45_Ant. _ Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen. _Gon. _ Here is every thing advantageous to life. _Ant. _ True; save means to live. _Seb. _ Of that there’s none, or little. _Gon. _ How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! 50_Ant. _ The ground, indeed, is tawny. _Seb. _ With an eye of green in’t. _Ant. _ He misses not much. _Seb. _ No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. _Gon. _ But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost 55beyond credit,--_Seb. _ As many vouched rarities are. _Gon. _ That our garments, being, as they were, drenchedin the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses,being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. 60_Ant. _ If but one of his pockets could speak, would itnot say he lies? _Seb. _ Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. _Gon. _ Methinks our garments are now as fresh as whenwe put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king’s 65fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. _Seb. _ ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well inour return. _Adr. _ Tunis was never graced before with such a paragonto their queen. 70_Gon. _ Not since widow Dido’s time. _Ant. _ Widow! a pox o’ that! How came that widowin? widow Dido! _Seb. _ What if he had said ‘widower Æneas’ too? GoodLord, how you take it! 75_Adr. _ ‘Widow Dido’ said you? you make me study ofthat: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. _Gon. _ This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. _Adr. _ Carthage? _Gon. _ I assure you, Carthage. 80_Seb. _ His word is more than the miraculous harp; hehath raised the wall, and houses too. _Ant. _ What impossible matter will he make easy next? _Seb. _ I think he will carry this island home in hispocket, and give it his son for an apple. 85_Ant. _ And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bringforth more islands. _Gon. _ Ay. _Ant. _ Why, in good time. _Gon. _ Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now 90as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of yourdaughter, who is now queen. _Ant. _ And the rarest that e’er came there. _Seb. _ Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. _Ant. _ O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. 95_Gon. _ Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day Iwore it? I mean, in a sort. _Ant. _ That sort was well fished for. _Gon. _ When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage? _Alon. _ You cram these words into mine ears against 100The stomach of my sense. Would I had neverMarried my daughter there! for, coming thence,My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too. Who is so far from Italy removedI ne’er again shall see her. O thou mine heir 105Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fishHath made his meal on thee? _Fran. _ Sir, he may live:I saw him beat the surges under him,And ride upon their backs; he trod the water. Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 110The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar’dHimself with his good arms in lusty strokeTo the shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bow’d,As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt 115He came alive to land. _Alon. _ No, no, he’s gone. _Seb. _ Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,But rather lose her to an African;Where she, at least, is banish’d from your eye, 120Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t. _Alon. _ Prithee, peace. _Seb. _ You were kneel’d to, and importuned otherwise,By all of us; and the fair soul herselfWeigh’d between loathness and obedience, atWhich end o’ the beam should bow. We have lost your son, 125I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples haveMore widows in them of this business’ makingThan we bring men to comfort them:The fault’s your own. _Alon. _ So is the dear’st o’ the loss. _Gon. _ My lord Sebastian, 130The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,When you should bring the plaster. _Seb. _ Very well. _Ant. _ And most chirurgeonly. _Gon. _ It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 135When you are cloudy. _Seb. _ Foul weather? _Ant. _ Very foul. _Gon. _ Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--_Ant. _ He’ld sow’t with nettle-seed. _Seb. _ Or docks, or mallows. _Gon. _ And were the king on’t, what would I do? _Seb. _ ’Scape being drunk for want of wine. 140_Gon. _ I’ the commonwealth I would by contrariesExecute all things; for no kind of trafficWould I admit; no name of magistrate;Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,And use of service, none; contract, succession, 145Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;No occupation; all men idle, all;And women too, but innocent and pure;No sovereignty;-- 150_Seb. _ Yet he would be king on’t. _Ant. _ The latter end of his commonwealth forgets thebeginning. _Gon. _ All things in common nature should produceWithout sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, 155Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,To feed my innocent people. _Seb. _ No marrying ’mong his subjects? _Ant. _ None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. 160_Gon. _ I would with such perfection govern, sir,To excel the golden age. _Seb. _ ’Save his majesty! _Ant. _ Long live Gonzalo! _Gon. _ And,--do you mark me, sir? _Alon. _ Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. _Gon. _ I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister 165occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensibleand nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. _Ant. _ ’Twas you we laughed at. _Gon. _ Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing toyou: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. 170_Ant. _ What a blow was there given! _Seb. _ An it had not fallen flat-long. _Gon.

_ You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you wouldlift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in itfive weeks without changing. 175 _Enter ARIEL (invisible) playing solemn music. __Seb. _ We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. _Ant. _ Nay, good my lord, be not angry. _Gon. _ No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretionso weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am veryheavy? 180_Ant. _ Go sleep, and hear us. [_All sleep except Alon. , Seb. , and Ant. __Alon. _ What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyesWould, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I findThey are inclined to do so. _Seb. _ Please you, sir,Do not omit the heavy offer of it: 185It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,It is a comforter. _Ant. _ We two, my lord,Will guard your person while you take your rest,And watch your safety. _Alon. _ Thank you. --Wondrous heavy. [_Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. __Seb. _ What a strange drowsiness possesses them! 190_Ant. _ It is the quality o’ the climate. _Seb. _ WhyDoth it not then our eyelids sink? I find notMyself disposed to sleep. _Ant. _ Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent;They dropp’d, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, 195Worthy Sebastian? --O, what might? --No more:--And yet methinks I see it in thy face,What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; andMy strong imagination sees a crownDropping upon thy head. _Seb. _ What, art thou waking? 200_Ant. _ Do you not hear me speak? _Seb. _ I do; and surelyIt is a sleepy language, and thou speak’stOut of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleepWith eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, 205And yet so fast asleep. _Ant. _ Noble Sebastian,Thou let’st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink’stWhiles thou art waking. _Seb. _ Thou dost snore distinctly;There’s meaning in thy snores. _Ant. _ I am more serious than my custom: you 210Must be so too, if heed me; which to doTrebles thee o’er. _Seb. _ Well, I am standing water. _Ant. _ I’ll teach you how to flow. _Seb. _ Do so: to ebbHereditary sloth instructs me. _Ant. _ O,If you but knew how you the purpose cherish 215Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,Most often do so near the bottom runBy their own fear or sloth. _Seb. _ Prithee, say on:The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim 220A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,Which throes thee much to yield. _Ant. _ Thus, sir:Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,Who shall be of as little memoryWhen he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded,-- 225For he’s a spirit of persuasion, onlyProfesses to persuade,--the king his son’s alive,’Tis as impossible that he’s undrown’dAs he that sleeps here swims. _Seb. _ I have no hopeThat he’s undrown’d. _Ant. _ O, out of that ‘no hope’ 230What great hope have you! no hope that way isAnother way so high a hope that evenAmbition cannot pierce a wink beyond,But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with meThat Ferdinand is drown’d? _Seb. _ He’s gone. _Ant. _ Then, tell me, 235Who’s the next heir of Naples? _Seb. _ Claribel. _Ant. _ She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwellsTen leagues beyond man’s life; she that from NaplesCan have no note, unless the sun were post,--The man i’ the moon’s too slow,--till new-born chins 240Be rough and razorable; she that from whomWe all were sea-swallow’d, though some cast again,And by that destiny, to perform an actWhereof what’s past is prologue; what to come,In yours and my discharge. _Seb. _ What stuff is this! How say you? 245’Tis true, my brother’s daughter’s queen of Tunis;So is she heir of Naples; ’twixt which regionsThere is some space. _Ant. _ A space whose every cubitSeems to cry out, “How shall that ClaribelMeasure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, 250And let Sebastian wake. ” Say, this were deathThat now hath seized them; why, they were no worseThan now they are. There be that can rule NaplesAs well as he that sleeps; lords that can prateAs amply and unnecessarily 255As this Gonzalo; I myself could makeA chough of as deep chat. O, that you boreThe mind that I do! what a sleep were thisFor your advancement! Do you understand me? _Seb. _ Methinks I do. _Ant. _ And how does your content 260Tender your own good fortune? _Seb. _ I rememberYou did supplant your brother Prospero. _Ant. _ True:And look how well my garments sit upon me;Much feater than before: my brother’s servantsWere then my fellows; now they are my men. 265_Seb. _ But for your conscience. _Ant. _ Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe,’Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel notThis deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,That stand ’twixt me and Milan, candied be they, 270And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,No better than the earth he lies upon,If he were that which now he’s like, that’s dead;Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, 275To the perpetual wink for aye might putThis ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, whoShould not upbraid our course. For all the rest,They’ll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;They’ll tell the clock to any business that 280We say befits the hour. _Seb. _ Thy case, dear friend,Shall be my precedent; as thou got’st Milan,I’ll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one strokeShall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;And I the king shall love thee. _Ant. _ Draw together; 285And when I rear my hand, do you the like,To fall it on Gonzalo. _Seb. _ O, but one word. [_They talk apart. _ _Re-enter ARIEL invisible. __Ari. _ My master through his art foresees the dangerThat you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth,--For else his project dies,--to keep them living. 290 [_Sings in Gonzalo’s ear. _While you here do snoring lie,Open-eyed conspiracy His time doth take. If of life you keep a care,Shake off slumber, and beware: 295 Awake, awake! _Ant. _ Then let us both be sudden. _Gon. _ Now, good angelsPreserve the king! [_They wake. __Alon. _ Why, how now? ho, awake! --Why are you drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? _Gon. _ What’s the matter? 300_Seb. _ Whiles we stood here securing your repose,Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowingLike bulls, or rather lions: did’t not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. _Alon. _ I heard nothing. _Ant. _ O, ’twas a din to fright a monster’s ear, 305To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roarOf a whole herd of lions. _Alon. _ Heard you this, Gonzalo? _Gon. _ Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,And that a strange one too, which did awake me:I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open’d, 310I saw their weapons drawn:--there was a noise,That’s verily. ’Tis best we stand upon our guard,Or that we quit this place: let’s draw our weapons. _Alon. _ Lead off this ground; and let’s make further searchFor my poor son. _Gon. _ Heavens keep him from these beasts! 315For he is, sure, i’ th’ island. _Alon. _ Lead away. _Ari. _ Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: II, 1. 3: _hint_] _stint_ Warburton. 5: _masters_] _master_ Johnson. _mistress_ Steevens conj. _master’s_ Edd. conj. 6: _of woe_] om. Steevens conj. 11-99: Marked as interpolated by Pope. 11: _visitor_] _’viser_ Warburton. _him_] om. Rowe. 15: _one_] F1. _on_ F2 F3 F4. 16: _entertain’d . . . Comes_] Capell. _entertain’d, That’s offer’d comes_] Ff. Printed as prose by Pope. 27: _of he_] Ff. _of them, he_ Pope. _or he_ Collier MS. See note (VII). 35: Seb. _Ha, ha, ha! --So you’re paid_] Theobald. Seb. _Ha, ha, ha!

_ Ant. _So you’r paid_ Ff. Ant. _So you’ve paid_ Capell. 81, 82: Seb. _His . . . too_] Edd. Ant. _His . . . harp. _ Seb. _He . . . too_ Ff. 88: _Ay. _] I. Ff. _Ay? _ Pope. 96: _sir, my doublet_] F1. _my doublet, sir_ F2 F3 F4. 113: _stroke_] F1 F2 F3. _strokes_ F4. 124: _Weigh’d_] _Sway’d_ S. Verges conj. _at_] _as_ Collier MS. ] 125: _o’ the_] _the_ Pope. _should_] _she’d_ Malone. 129: _The fault’s your own_] _the fault’s your own_ (at the end of 128) Capell. _the fault’s Your own_ Malone. 137: _plantation_] _the plantation_ Rowe. _the planting_ Hanmer. 139: _on’t_] _of it_ Hanmer. 144: _riches, poverty_] _wealth, poverty_ Pope. _poverty, riches_ Capell. 145: _contract, succession_] _succession, Contract_ Malone conj. _succession, None_ id. conj. 146: _none_] _olives, none_ Hanmer. 157: _its_] F3 F4. _it_ F1 F2. See note (VIII). 162: _’Save_] F1 F2 F3. _Save_ F4. _God save_ Edd. conj. 175: Enter . . . invisible . . . music. ] Malone. Enter Ariel, playing solemn music. Ff. om. Pope. [Solemn music. Capell. 181: [All sleep . . . Ant. ] Stage direction to the same effect, first inserted by Capell. 182-189: Text as in Pope. In Ff. the lines begin _Would . . . I find . . . Do not . . . It seldom . . . We two . . . While . . . Thank. _ 189: [Exit Ariel] Malone. 192: _find not_ Pope. _find Not_ Ff. 211: _so too, if heed_] _so too, if you heed_ Rowe. _so, if you heed_ Pope. 212: _Trebles thee o’er_] _Troubles thee o’er_ Pope. _Troubles thee not_ Hanmer. 222: _throes_] Pope. _throwes_ F1 F2 F3. _throws_ F4. _Thus, sir_] _Why then thus Sir_ Hanmer. 226: _he’s_] _he’as_ Hanmer. _he_ Johnson conj. 227: _Professes to persuade_] om. Steevens. 234: _doubt_] _drops_ Hanmer. _doubts_ Capell. 241: _she that from whom_] Ff. _she from whom_ Rowe. _she for whom_ Pope. _she from whom coming_ Singer. _she that--from whom? _ Spedding conj. See note (IX). 242: _all_] om. Pope. 243: _And . . . to perform_] _May . . . perform_ Pope. _And by that destin’d to perform_ Musgrave conj. _(And that by destiny) to perform_ Staunton conj. 244: _is_] F1. _in_ F2 F3 F4. 245: _In_] _Is_ Pope. 250: _to_] F1. _by_ F2 F3 F4. _Keep_] _Sleep_ Johnson conj. 251: See note (X). 267: _’twere_] _it were_ Singer. 267-271: Pope ends the lines with _that? . . . slipper . . . bosom . . . Milan . . . molest . . . brother. _ 267: See note (XI). 269: _twenty_] _Ten_ Pope. 270: _stand_] _stood_ Hanmer. _candied_] _Discandy’d_ Upton conj. 271: _And melt_] _Would melt_ Johnson conj. _Or melt_ id. conj. 273, 274: _like, that’s dead; Whom I, with_] _like, whom I With_ Steevens (Farmer conj. ). 275: _whiles_] om. Pope. 277: _morsel_] _Moral_ Warburton. 280, 281: _business . . . hour. _] _hour . . . business. _ Farmer conj. 282: _precedent_] Pope. _president_ Ff. _O_] om. Pope. [They talk apart] Capell. Re-enter Ariel invisible. ] Capell. Enter Ariel with music and song. Ff. 289: _you, his friend,_] _these, his friends_ Steevens (Johnson conj. ). 289, 290: _friend . . .

project dies . . . them_] _friend . . . projects dies . . . you_ Hanmer. _friend . . . projects die . . . them_ Malone conj. _friend . . . project dies . . . thee_ Dyce. 298: [They wake. ] Rowe. 300: _this_] _thus_ Collier MS. 307: _Gonzalo_] om. Pope. 312: _verily_] _verity_ Pope. _upon our guard_] _on guard_ Pope. SCENE II. _Another part of the island. _ _Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard. __Cal. _ All the infections that the sun sucks upFrom bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make himBy inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,And yet I needs must curse. But they’ll nor pinch,Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i’ the mire, 5Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the darkOut of my way, unless he bid ’em: butFor every trifle are they set upon me;Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me,And after bite me; then like hedgehogs, which 10Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mountTheir pricks at my footfall; sometime am IAll wound with adders, who with cloven tonguesDo hiss me into madness. _Enter TRINCULO. _ Lo, now, lo! Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me 15For bringing wood in slowly. I’ll fall flat;Perchance he will not mind me. _Trin. _ Here’s neither bush nor shrub, to bear off anyweather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i’the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks 20like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it shouldthunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head:yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. Whathave we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: hesmells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind 25of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! Were Iin England now, as once I was, and had but this fishpainted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece ofsilver: there would this monster make a man; any strangebeast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to 30relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a deadIndian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warmo’ my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it nolonger: this is no fish, but an islander, that hath latelysuffered by a thunderbolt. [_Thunder. _] Alas, the storm is come 35again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; thereis no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man withstrange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of thestorm be past. _Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand. __Ste. _ I shall no more to sea, to sea, 40 Here shall I die a-shore,--This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man’s funeral: well,here’s my comfort. [_Drinks. _[_Sings. _ The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I, The gunner, and his mate, 45 Loved Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, But none of us cared for Kate; For she had a tongue with a tang, Would cry to a sailor, Go hang! She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch; 50 Yet a tailor might scratch her where’er she did itch. Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang! This is a scurvy tune too: but here’s my comfort. [_Drinks. __Cal. _ Do not torment me:--O! _Ste. _ What’s the matter? Have we devils here? Do 55you put tricks upon ’s with savages and men of Ind, ha? Ihave not scaped drowning, to be afeard now of your fourlegs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as ever wenton four legs cannot make him give ground; and it shall besaid so again, while Stephano breathes at’s nostrils. 60_Cal. _ The spirit torments me:--O! _Ste. _ This is some monster of the isle with four legs, whohath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil should helearn our language? I will give him some relief, if it bebut for that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, and 65get to Naples with him, he’s a present for any emperor thatever trod on neat’s-leather. _Cal. _ Do not torment me, prithee; I’ll bring my woodhome faster. _Ste. _ He’s in his fit now, and does not talk after the 70wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have never drunkwine afore, it will go near to remove his fit. If I can recoverhim, and keep him tame, I will not take too much forhim; he shall pay for him that hath him, and that soundly. _Cal. _ Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I 75know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee. _Ste. _ Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is thatwhich will give language to you, cat: open your mouth; thiswill shake your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly:you cannot tell who’s your friend: open your chaps again. 80_Trin. _ I should know that voice: it should be--but heis drowned; and these are devils:--O defend me! _Ste. _ Four legs and two voices,--a most delicate monster! His forward voice, now, is to speak well of his friend;his backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract. 85If all the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will helphis ague. Come:--Amen! I will pour some in thy othermouth. _Trin. _ Stephano! _Ste. _ Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! 90This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I haveno long spoon. _Trin. _ Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me,and speak to me; for I am Trinculo,--be not afeard,--thygood friend Trinculo. 95_Ste. _ If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I’ll pull theeby the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo’s legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How earnest thou to bethe siege of this moon-calf? can he vent Trinculos? _Trin. _ I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. 100But art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope, now, thouart not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid meunder the dead moon-calf’s gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O Stephano, two Neapolitansscaped! 105_Ste. _ Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is notconstant. _Cal. _ [_aside_] These be fine things, an if they be not sprites. That’s a brave god, and bears celestial liquor:I will kneel to him. 110_Ste. _ How didst thou ’scape? How camest thou hither? swear, by this bottle, how thou camest hither. I escapedupon a butt of sack, which the sailors heaved o’erboard, bythis bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with mineown hands, since I was cast ashore. 115_Cal. _ I’ll swear, upon that bottle, to be thy true subject;for the liquor is not earthly. _Ste. _ Here; swear, then, how thou escapedst. _Trin. _ Swum ashore, man, like a duck: I can swimlike a duck, I’ll be sworn. 120_Ste. _ Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swimlike a duck, thou art made like a goose. _Trin. _ O Stephano, hast any more of this? _Ste. _ The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock bythe sea-side, where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf! 125how does thine ague? _Cal. _ Hast thou not dropp’d from heaven? _Ste. _ Out o’ the moon, I do assure thee: I was the mani’ the moon when time was. _Cal. _ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee: 130My mistress show’d me thee, and thy dog, and thy bush. _Ste. _ Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnishit anon with new contents: swear. _Trin. _ By this good light, this is a very shallow monster! I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The 135man i’ the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Welldrawn, monster, in good sooth! _Cal. _ I’ll show thee every fertile inch o’ th’ island;And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god. _Trin. _ By this light, a most perfidious and drunken 140monster! when’s god’s asleep, he’ll rob his bottle. _Cal. _ I’ll kiss thy foot; I’ll swear myself thy subject. _Ste. _ Come on, then; down, and swear. _Trin. _ I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headedmonster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in 145my heart to beat him,--_Ste. _ Come, kiss. _Trin. _ But that the poor monster’s in drink: an abominablemonster! _Cal. _ I’ll show thee the best springs; I’ll pluck thee berries; 150I’ll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I’ll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,Thou wondrous man. _Trin.

_ A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder 155of a poor drunkard! _Cal. _ I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee howTo snare the nimble marmoset; I’ll bring thee 160To clustering filberts, and sometimes I’ll get theeYoung scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? _Ste. _ I prithee now, lead the way, without any moretalking. Trinculo, the king and all our company else beingdrowned, we will inherit here: here; bear my bottle: fellow 165Trinculo, we’ll fill him by and by again. _Cal. sings drunkenly. _] Farewell, master; farewell, farewell! _Trin. _ A howling monster; a drunken monster! _Cal. _ No more dams I’ll make for fish; Nor fetch in firing 170 At requiring; Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish: ’Ban, ’Ban, Cacaliban Has a new master:--get a new man. Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, hey-day, 175freedom! _Ste. _ O brave monster! Lead the way. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: II, 2. 4: _nor_] F1 F2. _not_ F3 F4. 15: _and_] _now_ Pope. _sent_ Edd. conj. (so Dryden). 21: _foul_] _full_ Upton conj. 35: [Thunder] Capell. 38: _dregs_] _drench_ Collier MS. 40: SCENE III. Pope. [a bottle in his hand] Capell. ] 46: _and Marian_] _Mirian_ Pope. 56: _savages_] _salvages_ Ff. 60: _at’s nostrils_] Edd. _at ’nostrils_ F1. _at nostrils_ F2 F3 F4. _at his nostrils_ Pope. 78: _you, cat_] _you Cat_ Ff. _a cat_ Hanmer. _your cat_ Edd. conj. 84: _well_] F1 om. F2 F3 F4. 115, 116: Steevens prints as verse, _I’ll . . . thy True . . . earthly. _ 118: _swear, then, how thou escapedst_] _swear then: how escapedst thou? _ Pope. 119: _Swum_] _Swom_ Ff. 131: _and thy dog, and thy bush_] _thy dog and bush_ Steevens. 133: _new_] F1. _the new_ F2 F3 F4. 135: _weak_] F1. _shallow_ F2 F3 F4. 138: _island_] F1. _isle_ F2 F3 F4. 150-154, 157-162, printed as verse by Pope (after Dryden). 162: _scamels_] _shamois_ Theobald. _seamalls, stannels_ id. conj. 163: Ste. ] F1. Cal. F2 F3 F4. 165: Before _here; bear my bottle_ Capell inserts [To Cal. ]. See note (XII). 172: _trencher_] Pope (after Dryden). _trenchering_ Ff. 175: _hey-day_] Rowe. _high-day_ Ff. ACT III. SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell. _ _Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log. __Fer. _ There be some sports are painful, and their labourDelight in them sets off: some kinds of basenessAre nobly undergone, and most poor mattersPoint to rich ends. This my mean taskWould be as heavy to me as odious, but 5The mistress which I serve quickens what’s dead,And makes my labours pleasures: O, she isTen times more gentle than her father’s crabbed. And he’s composed of harshness. I must removeSome thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 10Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistressWeeps when she sees me work, and says, such basenessHad never like executor. I forget:But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,Most busy lest, when I do it. _Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen. __Mir. _ Alas, now, pray you, 15Work not so hard: I would the lightning hadBurnt up those logs that you are enjoin’d to pile! Pray, set it down, and rest you: when this burns,’Twill weep for having wearied you. My fatherIs hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself; 20He’s safe for these three hours. _Fer. _ O most dear mistress,The sun will set before I shall dischargeWhat I must strive to do. _Mir. _ If you’ll sit down,I’ll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;I’ll carry it to the pile. _Fer. _ No, precious creature; 25I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,Than you should such dishonour undergo,While I sit lazy by. _Mir. _ It would become meAs well as it does you: and I should do itWith much more ease; for my good will is to it, 30And yours it is against. _Pros. _ Poor worm, thou art infected! This visitation shows it. _Mir. _ You look wearily. _Fer. _ No, noble mistress; ’tis fresh morning with meWhen you are by at night. I do beseech you,--Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers,-- 35What is your name? _Mir. _ Miranda. --O my father,I have broke your hest to say so! _Fer. _ Admired Miranda! Indeed the top of admiration! worthWhat’s dearest to the world! Full many a ladyI have eyed with best regard, and many a time 40The harmony of their tongues hath into bondageBrought my too diligent ear: for several virtuesHave I liked several women; never anyWith so full soul, but some defect in herDid quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, 45And put it to the foil: but you, O you,So perfect and so peerless, are createdOf every creature’s best! _Mir. _ I do not knowOne of my sex; no woman’s face remember,Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen 50More that I may call men than you, good friend,And my dear father: how features are abroad,I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,The jewel in my dower, I would not wishAny companion in the world but you; 55Nor can imagination form a shape,Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattleSomething too wildly, and my father’s preceptsI therein do forget. _Fer. _ I am, in my condition,A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king; 60I would, not so! --and would no more endureThis wooden slavery than to sufferThe flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:The very instant that I saw you, didMy heart fly to your service; there resides, 65To make me slave to it; and for your sakeAm I this patient log-man. _Mir. _ Do you love me? _Fer. _ O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound,And crown what I profess with kind event,If I speak true! if hollowly, invert 70What best is boded me to mischief! I,Beyond all limit of what else i’ the world,Do love, prize, honour you. _Mir. _ I am a foolTo weep at what I am glad of. _Pros. _ Fair encounterOf two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace 75On that which breeds between ’em! _Fer. _ Wherefore weep you? _Mir. _ At mine unworthiness, that dare not offerWhat I desire to give; and much less takeWhat I shall die to want. But this is trifling;And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 80The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me;If not, I’ll die your maid: to be your fellowYou may deny me; but I’ll be your servant, 85Whether you will or no. _Fer. _ My mistress, dearest;And I thus humble ever. _Mir. _ My husband, then? _Fer. _ Ay, with a heart as willingAs bondage e’er of freedom: here’s my hand. _Mir. _ And mine, with my heart in’t: and now farewell 90Till half an hour hence. _Fer. _ A thousand thousand! [_Exeunt Fer. and Mir. severally. __Pros. _ So glad of this as they I cannot be,Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicingAt nothing can be more. I’ll to my book;For yet, ere supper-time, must I perform 95Much business appertaining. [_Exit. _ Notes: III, 1. 1: _and_] _but_ Pope. 2: _sets_] Rowe. _set_ Ff. 4, 5: _my . . . odious_] _my mean task would be As heavy to me as ’tis odious_ Pope. 9: _remove_] _move_ Pope. 14: _labours_] _labour_ Hanmer. 15: _Most busy lest_] F1. _Most busy least_ F2 F3 F4. _Least busy_ Pope. _Most busie-less_ Theobald. _ Most busiest_ Holt White conj. _Most busy felt_ Staunton. _Most busy still_ Staunton conj. _Most busy-blest_ Collier MS. _Most busiliest_ Bullock conj. _Most busy lest, when I do_ (_doe_ F1 F2 F3) _it_] _Most busy when least I do it_ Brae conj. _Most busiest when idlest_ Spedding conj. _Most busy left when idlest_ Edd. conj. See note (XIII). at a distance, unseen] Rowe. 17: _you are_] F1.

_thou art_ F2 F3 F4. 31: _it is_] _is it_ Steevens conj. (ed. 1, 2, and 3). om. Steevens (ed. 4) (Farmer conj. ). 34, 35: _I do beseech you,--Chiefly_] _I do beseech you Chiefly_ Ff. 59: _I therein do_] _I do_ Pope. _Therein_ Steevens. 62: _wooden_] _wodden_ F1. _than to_] _than I would_ Pope. 72: _what else_] _aught else_ Malone conj. (withdrawn). 80: _seeks_] _seekd_ F3 F4. 88: _as_] F1. _so_ F2 F3 F4. 91: _severally_] Capell. 93: _withal_] Theobald. _with all_ Ff. SCENE II. _Another part of the island. _ _Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO. __Ste. _ Tell not me;--when the butt is out, we will drinkwater; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and board ’em. Servant-monster, drink to me. _Trin. _ Servant-monster! the folly of this island! Theysay there’s but five upon this isle: we are three of them; if 5th’ other two be brained like us, the state totters. _Ste. _ Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyesare almost set in thy head. _Trin. _ Where should they be set else? he were a bravemonster indeed, if they were set in his tail. 10_Ste. _ My man-monster hath drowned his tongue in sack:for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I couldrecover the shore, five-and-thirty leagues off and on. Bythis light, thou shalt be my lieutenant, monster, or mystandard. 15_Trin. _ Your lieutenant, if you list; he’s no standard. _Ste. _ We’ll not run, Monsieur Monster. _Trin. _ Nor go neither; but you’ll lie, like dogs, andyet say nothing neither. _Ste. _ Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a 20good moon-calf. _Cal. _ How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe. I’ll not serve him, he is not valiant. _Trin. _ Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in caseto justle a constable. Why, thou debauched fish, thou, was 25there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much sack asI to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, being but half afish and half a monster? _Cal. _ Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord? _Trin. _ ‘Lord,’ quoth he! That a monster should be 30such a natural! _Cal. _ Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee. _Ste. _ Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if youprove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster’s mysubject, and he shall not suffer indignity. 35_Cal. _ I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased tohearken once again to the suit I made to thee? _Ste. _ Marry, will I: kneel and repeat it; I will stand,and so shall Trinculo. _Enter ARIEL, invisible. __Cal. _ As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a 40sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island. _Ari. _ Thou liest. _Cal. _ Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou:I would my valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie. _Ste. _ Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in’s tale, by 45this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth. _Trin. _ Why, I said nothing. _Ste. _ Mum, then, and no more. Proceed. _Cal. _ I say, by sorcery he got this isle;From me he got it. If thy greatness will 50Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,But this thing dare not,--_Ste. _ That’s most certain. _Cal. _ Thou shalt be lord of it, and I’ll serve thee. _Ste. _ How now shall this be compassed? Canst thou 55bring me to the party? _Cal. _ Yea, yea, my lord: I’ll yield him thee asleep,Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. _Ari. _ Thou liest; thou canst not. _Cal. _ What a pied ninny’s this! Thou scurvy patch! 60I do beseech thy Greatness, give him blows,And take his bottle from him: when that’s gone,He shall drink nought but brine; for I’ll not show himWhere the quick freshes are. _Ste. _ Trinculo, run into no further danger: interrupt the 65monster one word further, and, by this hand, I’ll turn mymercy out o’ doors, and make a stock-fish of thee. _Trin. _ Why, what did I? I did nothing. I’ll go fartheroff. _Ste. _ Didst thou not say he lied? 70_Ari. _ Thou liest. _Ste. _ Do I so? take thou that. [_Beats him. _] As youlike this, give me the lie another time. _Trin. _ I did not give the lie. Out o’ your wits, andhearing too? A pox o’ your bottle! this can sack and 75drinking do. A murrain on your monster, and the deviltake your fingers! _Cal. _ Ha, ha, ha! _Ste. _ Now, forward with your tale. --Prithee, stand fartheroff. 80_Cal. _ Beat him enough: after a little time,I’ll beat him too. _Ste. _ Stand farther. Come, proceed. _Cal. _ Why, as I told thee, ’tis a custom with himI’ th’ afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,Having first seized his books; or with a log 85Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,Or cut his wezand with thy knife. RememberFirst to possess his books; for without themHe’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath notOne spirit to command: they all do hate him 90As rootedly as I. Burn but his books. He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them,--Which, when he has a house, he’ll deck withal. And that most deeply to consider isThe beauty of his daughter; he himself 95Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,But only Sycorax my dam and she;But she as far surpasseth SycoraxAs great’st does least. _Ste. _ Is it so brave a lass? _Cal. _ Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant, 100And bring thee forth brave brood. _Ste. _ Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and Iwill be king and queen,--save our Graces! --and Trinculoand thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou like the plot,Trinculo? 105_Trin. _ Excellent. _Ste. _ Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head. _Cal. _ Within this half hour will he be asleep:Wilt thou destroy him then? _Ste. _ Ay, on mine honour. 110_Ari. _ This will I tell my master. _Cal. _ Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:Let us be jocund: will you troll the catchYou taught me but while-ere? _Ste. _ At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any 115reason. --Come on. Trinculo, let us sing. [_Sings. _ Flout ’em and scout ’em, and scout ’em and flout ’em; Thought is free. _Cal. _ That’s not the tune. [_Ariel plays the tune on a tabor and pipe. __Ste. _ What is this same? 120_Trin. _ This is the tune of our catch, played by the pictureof Nobody. _Ste. _ If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:if thou beest a devil, take’t as thou list. _Trin. _ O, forgive me my sins! 125_Ste. _ He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercyupon us! _Cal. _ Art thou afeard? _Ste. _ No, monster, not I. _Cal.

_ Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, 130Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instrumentsWill hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,That, if I then had waked after long sleep,Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, 135The clouds methought would open, and show richesReady to drop upon me; that, when I waked,I cried to dream again. _Ste. _ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where Ishall have my music for nothing. 140_Cal. _ When Prospero is destroyed. _Ste. _ That shall be by and by: I remember the story. _Trin. _ The sound is going away; let’s follow it, andafter do our work. _Ste. _ Lead, monster; we’ll follow. I would I could see 145this taborer; he lays it on. _Trin. _ Wilt come? I’ll follow, Stephano. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: III, 2. SCENE II. Another. . . ] Theobald. The other. . . Pope. Enter . . . ] Enter S. and T. reeling, Caliban following with a bottle. Capell. Enter C. S. and T. with a bottle. Johnson. ] 8: _head_] F1. _heart_ F2 F3 F4. 13, 14: _on. By this light, thou_] _on, by this light thou_ Ff. _on, by this light. --Thou_ Capell. 25: _debauched_] _debosh’d_ Ff. 37: _to the suit I made to thee_] _the suit I made thee_ Steevens, who prints all Caliban’s speeches as verse. 60: Johnson conjectured that this line was spoken by Stephano. 68: _farther_] F1 _no further_ F2 F3 F4. 72: [Beats him. ] Rowe. 84: _there_] _then_ Collier MS. 89: _nor_] _and_ Pope. 93: _deck_] _deck’t_ Hanmer. 96: _I never saw a woman_] _I ne’er saw woman_ Pope. 99: _great’st does least_] _greatest does the least_ Rowe. 115, 116:] Printed as verse in Ff. 115: _any_] F1. _and_ F2 F3 F4. 117: _scout ’em, and scout ’em_] Pope. _cout ’em and skowt ’em_ Ff. 125: _sins_] _sin_ F4. 132: _twangling_] _twanging_ Pope. 133: _sometime_] F1. _sometimes_ F2 F3 F4. 137: _that_] om. Pope. 147: Trin. _Will come? I’ll follow, Stephano_] Trin. _Wilt come? _ Ste. _I’ll follow. _ Capell. Ste. _. . . Wilt come? _ Trin. _I’ll follow, Stephano. _ Ritson conj. SCENE III. _Another part of the island. _ _Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. __Gon. _ By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir;My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod, indeed,Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,I needs must rest me. _Alon. _ Old lord, I cannot blame thee,Who am myself attach’d with weariness, 5To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest. Even here I will put off my hope, and keep itNo longer for my flatterer: he is drown’dWhom thus we stray to find; and the sea mocksOur frustrate search on land. Well, let him go. 10_Ant. _ [_Aside to Seb. _] I am right glad that he’s so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purposeThat you resolved to effect. _Seb. _ [_Aside to Ant. _] The next advantageWill we take throughly. _Ant. _ [_Aside to Seb. _] Let it be to-night;For, now they are oppress’d with travel, they 15Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilanceAs when they are fresh. _Seb. _ [_Aside to Ant. _] I say, to-night: no more. [_Solemn and strange music. __Alon. _ What harmony is this? --My good friends, hark! _Gon. _ Marvellous sweet music! _Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet: they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart. __Alon. _ Give us kind keepers, heavens! --What were these? 20_Seb. _ A living drollery. Now I will believeThat there are unicorns; that in ArabiaThere is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnixAt this hour reigning there. _Ant. _ I’ll believe both;And what does else want credit, come to me, 25And I’ll be sworn ’tis true: travellers ne’er did lie,Though fools at home condemn ’em. _Gon. _ If in NaplesI should report this now, would they believe me? If I should say, I saw such islanders,--For, certes, these are people of the island,-- 30Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,Their manners are more gentle-kind than ofOur human generation you shall findMany, nay, almost any. _Pros. _ [_Aside_] Honest lord,Thou hast said well; for some of you there present 35Are worse than devils. _Alon. _ I cannot too much museSuch shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing--Although they want the use of tongue--a kindOf excellent dumb discourse. _Pros. _ [_Aside_] Praise in departing. _Fran. _ They vanish’d strangely. _Seb. _ No matter, since 40They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs. --Will’t please you taste of what is here? _Alon. _ Not I. _Gon. _ Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,Who would believe that there were mountaineersDew-lapp’d like bulls, whose throats had hanging at ’em 45Wallets of flesh? or that there were such menWhose heads stood in their breasts? which now we findEach putter-out of five for one will bring usGood warrant of. _Alon. _ I will stand to, and feed,Although my last: no matter, since I feel 50The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,Stand to, and do as we. _Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes. __Ari. _ You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,--That hath to instrument this lower worldAnd what is in’t,--the never-surfeited sea 55Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island,Where man doth not inhabit,--you ’mongst menBeing most unfit to live. I have made you mad;And even with such-like valour men hang and drownTheir proper selves. [_Alon. , Seb. &c. draw their swords. _ You fools! I and my fellows 60Are ministers of Fate: the elements,Of whom your swords are temper’d, may as wellWound the loud winds, or with bemock’d-at stabsKill the still-closing waters, as diminishOne dowle that’s in my plume: my fellow-ministers 65Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,Your swords are now too massy for your strengths,And will not be uplifted. But remember,--For that’s my business to you,--that you threeFrom Milan did supplant good Prospero; 70Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,Him and his innocent child: for which foul deedThe powers, delaying, not forgetting, haveIncensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, 75They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:Lingering perdition--worse than any deathCan be at once--shall step by step attendYou and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from,--Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls 80Upon your heads,--is nothing but heart-sorrowAnd a clear life ensuing. _He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music, enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table. __Pros. _ Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thouPerform’d, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated 85In what thou hadst to say: so, with good lifeAnd observation strange, my meaner ministersTheir several kinds have done. My high charms work,And these mine enemies are all knit upIn their distractions: they now are in my power; 90And in these fits I leave them, while I visitYoung Ferdinand,--whom they suppose is drown’d,--And his and mine loved darling. [_Exit above. __Gon. _ I’ the name of something holy, sir, why stand youIn this strange stare? _Alon. _ O, it is monstrous, monstrous! 95Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder,That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronouncedThe name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i’ th’ ooze is bedded; and 100I’ll seek him deeper than e’er plummet sounded,And with him there lie mudded. [_Exit. __Seb. _ But one fiend at a time,I’ll fight their legions o’er. _Ant. _ I’ll be thy second. [_Exeunt Seb. and Ant. __Gon. _ All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,Like poison given to work a great time after, 105Now ’gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you,That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly,And hinder them from what this ecstasyMay now provoke them to. _Adr. _ Follow, I pray you. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: III, 3. 2: _ache_] _ake_ F2 F3 F4.

_akes_ F1. 3: _forth-rights_] F2 F3 F4. _fourth rights_ F1. 8: _flatterer_] F1. _flatterers_ F2 F3 F4. 17: Prospero above] Malone. Prosper on the top Ff. See note (XIV). 20: _were_] F1 F2 F3. _are_ F4. 26: _’tis true_] _to ’t_ Steevens conj. _did lie_] _lied_ Hanmer. 29: _islanders_] F2 F3 F4. _islands_ F1. 32: _gentle-kind_] Theobald. _gentle, kind_ Ff. _gentle kind_ Rowe. 36: _muse_] F1 F2 F3. _muse_, F4. _muse_; Capell. 48: _of five for one_] Ff. _on five for one_ Theobald. _of one for five_ Malone, (Thirlby conj. ) See note (XV). 49-51: _I will . . . past_] Mason conjectured that these lines formed a rhyming couplet. 53: SCENE IV. Pope. 54: _instrument_] _instruments_ F4. 56: _belch up you_] F1 F2 F3. _belch you up_ F4. _belch up_ Theobald. 60: [. . . draw their swords] Hanmer. 65: _dowle_] _down_ Pope. ] _plume_] Rowe. _plumbe_ F1 F2 F3. _plumb_ F4. 67: _strengths_] _strength_ F4. 79: _wraths_] _wrath_ Theobald. 81: _heart-sorrow_] Edd. _hearts-sorrow_ Ff. _heart’s-sorrow_ Rowe. _heart’s sorrow_ Pope. 82: mocks] mopps Theobald. 86: _life_] _list_ Johnson conj. 90: _now_] om. Pope. 92: _whom_] _who_ Hanmer. 93: _mine_] _my_ Rowe. [Exit above] Theobald. ] 94: _something holy, sir_,] _something, holy Sir_, F4. 99: _bass_] Johnson. _base_ Ff. 106: _do_] om. Pope. ACT IV. SCENE I. _Before PROSPERO’S cell. _ _Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA. __Pros. _ If I have too austerely punish’d you,Your compensation makes amends; for IHave given you here a third of mine own life,Or that for which I live; who once againI tender to thy hand: all thy vexations 5Were but my trials of thy love, and thouHast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,Do not smile at me that I boast her off,For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise, 10And make it halt behind her. _Fer. _ I do believe itAgainst an oracle. _Pros. _ Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisitionWorthily purchased, take my daughter: butIf thou dost break her virgin-knot before 15All sanctimonious ceremonies mayWith full and holy rite be minister’d,No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fallTo make this contract grow; but barren hate,Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew 20The union of your bed with weeds so loathlyThat you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,As Hymen’s lamps shall light you. _Fer. _ As I hopeFor quiet days, fair issue and long life,With such love as ’tis now, the murkiest den, 25The most opportune place, the strong’st suggestionOur worser Genius can, shall never meltMine honour into lust, to take awayThe edge of that day’s celebrationWhen I shall think, or Phœbus’ steeds are founder’d, 30Or Night kept chain’d below. _Pros. _ Fairly spoke. Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own. What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! _Enter ARIEL. __Ari. _ What would my potent master? here I am. _Pros. _ Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service 35Did worthily perform; and I must use youIn such another trick. Go bring the rabble,O’er whom I give thee power, here to this place:Incite them to quick motion; for I mustBestow upon the eyes of this young couple 40Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,And they expect it from me. _Ari. _ Presently? _Pros. _ Ay, with a twink. _Ari. _ Before you can say, ‘come,’ and ‘go,’ And breathe twice, and cry, ‘so, so,’ 45 Each one, tripping on his toe, Will be here with mop and mow. Do you love me, master? no? _Pros. _ Dearly, my delicate Ariel. Do not approachTill thou dost hear me call. _Ari. _ Well, I conceive. [_Exit. _ 50_Pros. _ Look thou be true; do not give dallianceToo much the rein: the strongest oaths are strawTo the fire i’ the blood: be more abstemious,Or else, good night your vow! _Fer. _ I warrant you, sir;The white cold virgin snow upon my heart 55Abates the ardour of my liver. _Pros. _ Well. Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,Rather than want a spirit: appear, and pertly! No tongue! all eyes! be silent. [_Soft music. _ _Enter IRIS. _ _Iris. _ Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas 60 Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch’d with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy best betrims, 65 To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom-groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o’ the sky, 70 Whose watery arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport:--her peacocks fly amain: Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 75 _Enter CERES. _ _Cer. _ Hail, many-colour’d messenger, that ne’er Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; Who, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers; And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown 80 My bosky acres and my unshrubb’d down, Rich scarf to my proud earth;--why hath thy queen Summon’d me hither, to this short-grass’d green? _Iris. _ A contract of true love to celebrate; And some donation freely to estate 85 On the blest lovers. _Cer. _ Tell me, heavenly bow, If Venus or her son, as thou dost know, Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot The means that dusky Dis my daughter got, Her and her blind boy’s scandal’d company 90 I have forsworn. _Iris. _ Of her society Be not afraid: I met her Deity Cutting the clouds towards Paphos, and her son Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, 95 Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid Till Hymen’s torch be lighted: but in vain; Mars’s hot minion is returned again; Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows, 100 And be a boy right out. _Cer. _ High’st queen of state, Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait. _Enter JUNO. _ _Juno. _ How does my bounteous sister? Go with me To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be, And honour’d in their issue. [_They sing:_ 105 _Juno. _ Honour, riches, marriage-blessing, Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you! Juno sings her blessings on you. _Cer. _ Earth’s increase, foison plenty, 110 Barns and garners never empty; Vines with clustering bunches growing; Plants with goodly burthen bowing; Spring come to you at the farthest In the very end of harvest! 115 Scarcity and want shall shun you; Ceres’ blessing so is on you. _Fer. _ This is a most majestic vision, andHarmonious charmingly. May I be boldTo think these spirits? _Pros. _ Spirits, which by mine art 120I have from their confines call’d to enactMy present fancies. _Fer. _ Let me live here ever;So rare a wonder’d father and a wifeMakes this place Paradise. [_Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment. __Pros. _ Sweet, now, silence! Juno and Ceres whisper seriously; 125There’s something else to do: hush, and be mute,Or else our spell is marr’d. _Iris. _ You nymphs, call’d Naiads, of the windring brooks, With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks, Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 130 Answer your summons; Juno does command: Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate A contract of true love; be not too late. _Enter certain Nymphs. _ You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary, Come hither from the furrow, and be merry: 135 Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on, And these fresh nymphs encounter every one In country footing. _Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish. __Pros. _ [_Aside_] I had forgot that foul conspiracyOf the beast Caliban and his confederates 140Against my life: the minute of their plotIs almost come. [_To the Spirits. _] Well done! avoid; no more! _Fer. _ This is strange: your father’s in some passionThat works him strongly. _Mir. _ Never till this daySaw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d. 145_Pros. _ You do look, my son, in a moved sort,As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits, andAre melted into air, into thin air: 150And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 155Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on; and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:Be not disturb’d with my infirmity: 160If you be pleased, retire into my cell,And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,To still my beating mind. _Fer. _ _Mir. _ We wish your peace. [_Exeunt. __Pros. _ Come with a thought. I thank thee, Ariel: come. _Enter ARIEL. __Ari. _ Thy thoughts I cleave to. What’s thy pleasure? 165_Pros. _ Spirit,We must prepare to meet with Caliban. _Ari. _ Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear’dLest I might anger thee. _Pros. _ Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets? 170_Ari.

_ I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;So full of valour that they smote the airFor breathing in their faces; beat the groundFor kissing of their feet; yet always bendingTowards their project. Then I beat my tabor; 175At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their nosesAs they smelt music: so I charm’d their ears,That, calf-like, they my lowing follow’d throughTooth’d briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and thorns, 180Which enter’d their frail shins: at last I left themI’ the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lakeO’erstunk their feet. _Pros. _ This was well done, my bird. Thy shape invisible retain thou still: 185The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,For stale to catch these thieves. _Ari. _ I go, I go. [_Exit. __Pros. _ A devil, a born devil, on whose natureNurture can never stick; on whom my pains,Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost; 190And as with age his body uglier grows,So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,Even to roaring. _Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, &c. _Come, hang them on this line. _PROSPERO and ARIEL remain, invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet. __Cal. _ Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may notHear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. 195_Ste. _ Monster, your fairy, which you say is a harmlessfairy, has done little better than played the Jack with us. _Trin. _ Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at which mynose is in great indignation. _Ste. _ So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should 200take a displeasure against you, look you,--_Trin. _ Thou wert but a lost monster. _Cal. _ Good my lord, give me thy favour still. Be patient, for the prize I’ll bring thee toShall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly. 205All’s hush’d as midnight yet. _Trin. _ Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--_Ste. _ There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,monster, but an infinite loss. _Trin. _ That’s more to me than my wetting: yet this is 210your harmless fairy, monster. _Ste. _ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears formy labour. _Cal. _ Prithee, my king, be quiet. See’st thou here,This is the mouth o’ the cell: no noise, and enter. 215Do that good mischief which may make this islandThine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,For aye thy foot-licker. _Ste. _ Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloodythoughts. 220_Trin. _ O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for thee! _Cal. _ Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. _Trin. _ O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O King Stephano! 225_Ste. _ Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I’llhave that gown. _Trin. _ Thy Grace shall have it. _Cal. _ The dropsy drown this fool! what do you meanTo dote thus on such luggage? Let’s alone, 230And do the murder first: if he awake,From toe to crown he’ll fill our skins with pinches,Make us strange stuff. _Ste. _ Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line, is not thismy jerkin? Now is the jerkin under the line: now, jerkin, 235you are like to lose your hair, and prove a bald jerkin. _Trin. _ Do, do: we steal by line and level, an’t like yourGrace. _Ste. _ I thank thee for that jest; here’s a garment for’t:wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. 240‘Steal by line and level’ is an excellent pass of pate;there’s another garment for’t. _Trin. _ Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers,and away with the rest. _Cal. _ I will have none on’t: we shall lose our time, 245And all be turn’d to barnacles, or to apesWith foreheads villanous low. _Ste. _ Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear thisaway where my hogshead of wine is, or I’ll turn you outof my kingdom: go to, carry this. 250_Trin. _ And this. _Ste. _ Ay, and this. _A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on. __Pros. _ Hey, Mountain, hey! _Ari. _ Silver! there it goes, Silver! _Pros. _ Fury, fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark, hark! 255 [_Cal. , Ste. , and Trin. are driven out. _Go charge my goblins that they grind their jointsWith dry convulsions; shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make themThen pard or cat o’ mountain. _Ari. _ Hark, they roar! _Pros. _ Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour 260Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:Shortly shall all my labours end, and thouShalt have the air at freedom: for a littleFollow, and do me service. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: IV, 1. 3: _a third_] _a thread_ Theobald. _the thread_ Williams conj. 4: _who_] _whom_ Pope. 7: _test_] F1. _rest_ F2 F3 F4. 9: _off_] F2 F3 F4. _of_ F1. 11: _do_] om. Pope. 13: _gift_] Rowe. _guest_ Ff. 14: _but_] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. 25: _’tis_] _is_ Capell. 30: _Phœbus’_] _Phœbus_ F1. _Phœdus_ F2 F3. _Phœduus_ F4. 34: SCENE II. Pope. 41: _vanity_] _rarity_ S. Walker conj. 48: _no_? ] _no_. Rowe. 53: _abstemious_] _abstenious_ F1. 60: SCENE III. A MASQUE. Pope. ] _thy_] F1. _the_ F2 F3 F4. 64: _pioned_] _pionied_ Warburton. _peonied_ Steevens. _twilled_] _tulip’d_ Rowe. _tilled_ Capell (Holt conj. ). _lilied_ Steevens. ] 66: _broom-groves_] _brown groves_ Hanmer. 68: _pole-clipt_] _pale-clipt_ Hanmer. 72: After this line Ff. have the stage direction, ’_Juno descends. _’ 74: _her_] Rowe. _here_ Ff. 83: _short-grass’d_] F3 F4. _short gras’d_ F1 F2. _short-grass_ Pope. 96: _bed-right_] _bed-rite_ Singer. 101: _High’st_] _High_ Pope. 102: Enter JUNO] om. Ff. 110: Cer. ] Theobald. om. Ff. _foison_] F1 _and foison_ F2 F3 F4. 114: _Spring_] _Rain_ Collier MS. 119: _charmingly_] _charming lay_ Hanmer. _charming lays_ Warburton. _Harmoniously charming_ Steevens conj. 121: _from their_] F1. _from all their_ F2 F3 F4. 123: _wife_] F1 (var. ). Rowe. _wise_ F1 (var. ) F2 F3 F4. 124: _Makes_] _make_ Pope. _sweet, now, silence_] _now, silence, sweet_ Hanmer. 124: In Ff. the stage direction [Juno, &c. follows line 127. Capell made the change. 128: _windring_] _winding_ Rowe. _wand’ring_ Steevens. 129: _sedged_] _sedge_ Collier MS. 136: _holiday_] _holly day_ F1 F2 F3. _holy-day_ F4. 139: SCENE IV. Pope. 143: _This is_] _This’_ (for This ’s) S. Walker conj.

] _strange_] _most strange_ Hanmer. 145: Ff put a comma after _anger_. Warburton omitted it. 146: _do_] om. Pope. See note (XVI). 151: _this_] F1. _their_ F2 F3 F4. _th’ air visions_ Warburton. 156: _rack_] F3 F4. _racke_ F1 F2. _track_ Hanmer. _wreck_ Dyce (Malone conj. ). 163: _your_] F1 F2 F3. _you_ F4. 164: _I thank thee, Ariel: come. _] _I thank you:--Ariel, come. _ Theobald. 169: _Lest_] F4. _Least_ F1 F2 F3. 170: _Say again_] _Well, say again_ Capell. 180: _furzes_] Rowe. _firzes_ Ff. 181: _shins_] _skins_ Warburton conj. (note, V. 1. p. 87). 182: _filthy-mantled_] _filthy mantled_ Ff. _filth-ymantled_ Steevens conj. 184: _feet_] _fear_ Spedding conj. 190: _all, all_] _are all_ Malone conj. 193: _them on_ Rowe. _on them_ Ff. Prospero . . . invisible. Theobald, Capell. om. Ff. 194: SCENE V. Pope. 230: _Let’s alone_] _Let’s along_ Theobald. _Let it alone_ Hanmer. _Let ’t alone_ Collier. See note (XVII). 246: _to apes_] om. _to_ Pope. 255: Stage direction added by Theobald. 256: _they_] F1 F3 F4. _thou_ F2. 261: _Lie_] Rowe. _lies_ Ff. ACT V. SCENE I. _Before the cell of Prospero. _ _Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL. __Pros. _ Now does my project gather to a head:My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and timeGoes upright with his carriage. How’s the day? _Ari. _ On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,You said our work should cease. _Pros. _ I did say so, 5When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,How fares the king and’s followers? _Ari. _ Confined togetherIn the same fashion as you gave in charge,Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell; 10They cannot budge till your release. The king,His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,And the remainder mourning over them,Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chieflyHim that you term’d, sir, “The good old lord, Gonzalo;” 15His tears run down his beard, like winter’s dropsFrom eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em,That if you now beheld them, your affectionsWould become tender. _Pros. _ Dost thou think so, spirit? _Ari. _ Mine would, sir, were I human. _Pros. _ And mine shall. 20Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feelingOf their afflictions, and shall not myself,One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, 25Yet with my nobler reason ’gainst my furyDo I take part: the rarer action isIn virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,The sole drift of my purpose doth extendNot a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: 30My charms I’ll break, their senses I’ll restore,And they shall be themselves. _Ari. _ I’ll fetch them, sir. [_Exit. __Pros. _ Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;And ye that on the sands with printless footDo chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 35When he comes back; you demi-puppets thatBy moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastimeIs to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoiceTo hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid-- 40Weak masters though ye be--I have bedimm’dThe noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds. And ’twixt the green sea and the azured vaultSet roaring war: to the dread rattling thunderHave I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak 45With his own bolt; the strong-based promontoryHave I made shake, and by the spurs pluck’d upThe pine and cedar: graves at my commandHave waked their sleepers, oped, and let ’em forthBy my so potent art. But this rough magic 50I here abjure; and, when I have requiredSome heavenly music,--which even now I do,--To work mine end upon their senses, thatThis airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff,Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 55And deeper than did ever plummet soundI’ll drown my book. [_Solemn music. _ _Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO: they all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks:_A solemn air, and the best comforterTo an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,Now useless, boil’d within thy skull! There stand, 60For you are spell-stopp’d. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace;And as the morning steals upon the night, 65Melting the darkness, so their rising sensesBegin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantleTheir clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,My true preserver, and a loyal sirTo him thou follow’st! I will pay thy graces 70Home both in word and deed. Most cruellyDidst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:Thy brother was a furtherer in the act. Thou art pinch’d for’t now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,You, brother mine, that entertain’d ambition, 75Expell’d remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,--Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,--Would here have kill’d your king; I do forgive thee,Unnatural though thou art. Their understandingBegins to swell; and the approaching tide 80Will shortly fill the reasonable shore,That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of themThat yet looks on me, or would know me: Ariel,Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:I will discase me, and myself present 85As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;Thou shalt ere long be free. _ARIEL sings and helps to attire him. _ Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip’s bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. 90 On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live nowUnder the blossom that hangs on the bough. _Pros. _ Why, that’s my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee; 95But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so. To the king’s ship, invisible as thou art:There shalt thou find the mariners asleepUnder the hatches; the master and the boatswainBeing awake, enforce them to this place, 100And presently, I prithee. _Ari. _ I drink the air before me, and returnOr ere your pulse twice beat. [_Exit. __Gon. _ All torment, trouble, wonder and amazementInhabits here: some heavenly power guide us 105Out of this fearful country! _Pros. _ Behold, sir king,The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:For more assurance that a living princeDoes now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;And to thee and thy company I bid 110A hearty welcome. _Alon. _ Whether thou be’st he or no,Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,As late I have been, I not know: thy pulseBeats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw thee,The affliction of my mind amends, with which, 115I fear, a madness held me: this must crave--An if this be at all--a most strange story. Thy dukedom I resign, and do entreatThou pardon me my wrongs. --But how should ProsperoBe living and be here? _Pros. _ First, noble friend, 120Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannotBe measured or confined. _Gon. _ Whether this beOr be not, I’ll not swear. _Pros. _ You do yet tasteSome subtilties o’ the isle, that will not let youBelieve things certain. Welcome, my friends all! 125[_Aside to Seb. and Ant. _] But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded,I here could pluck his Highness’ frown upon you,And justify you traitors: at this timeI will tell no tales. _Seb. _ [_Aside_] The devil speaks in him. _Pros. _ No. For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 130Would even infect my mouth, I do forgiveThy rankest fault,--all of them; and requireMy dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,Thou must restore. _Alon. _ If thou be’st Prospero,Give us particulars of thy preservation; 135How thou hast met us here, who three hours sinceWere wreck’d upon this shore; where I have lost--How sharp the point of this remembrance is! --My dear son Ferdinand. _Pros. _ I am woe for’t, sir. _Alon. _ Irreparable is the loss; and patience 140Says it is past her cure. _Pros. _ I rather thinkYou have not sought her help, of whose soft graceFor the like loss I have her sovereign aid,And rest myself content. _Alon. _ You the like loss! _Pros. _ As great to me as late; and, supportable 145To make the dear loss, have I means much weakerThan you may call to comfort you, for IHave lost my daughter. _Alon. _ A daughter? O heavens, that they were living both in Naples,The king and queen there! that they were, I wish 150Myself were mudded in that oozy bedWhere my son lies. When did you lose you daughter? _Pros. _ In this last tempest. I perceive, these lordsAt this encounter do so much admire,That they devour their reason, and scarce think 155Their eyes do offices of truth, their wordsAre natural breath: but, howsoe’er you haveBeen justled from your senses, know for certainThat I am Prospero, and that very dukeWhich was thrust forth of Milan; who most strangely 160Upon this shore, where you were wreck’d, was landed,To be the Lord on’t. No more yet of this;For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,Not a relation for a breakfast, norBefitting this first meeting. Welcome, sir; 165This cell’s my court: here have I few attendants,And subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. My dukedom since you have given me again,I will requite you with as good a thing;At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye 170As much as me my dukedom. _Here Prospero discovers FERDINAND and MIRANDA playing at chess. __Mir. _ Sweet lord, you play me false. _Fer. _ No, my dear’st love,I would not for the world. _Mir. _ Yes, for a score of kingdoms you should wrangle,And I would call it fair play. _Alon. _ If this prove 175A vision of the island, one dear sonShall I twice lose. _Seb. _ A most high miracle! _Fer. _ Though the seas threaten, they are merciful;I have cursed them without cause. [_Kneels. __Alon. _ Now all the blessingsOf a glad father compass thee about! 180Arise, and say how thou camest here. _Mir. _ O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,That has such people in’t! _Pros. _ ’Tis new to thee. _Alon. _ What is this maid with whom thou wast at play? 185Your eld’st acquaintance cannot be three hours:Is she the goddess that hath sever’d us,And brought us thus together? _Fer. _ Sir, she is mortal;But by immortal Providence she’s mine:I chose her when I could not ask my father 190For his advice, nor thought I had one.

SheIs daughter to this famous Duke of Milan,Of whom so often I have heard renown,But never saw before; of whom I haveReceived a second life; and second father 195This lady makes him to me. _Alon. _ I am hers:But, O, how oddly will it sound that IMust ask my child forgiveness! _Pros. _ There, sir, stop:Let us not burthen our remembrances withA heaviness that’s gone. _Gon. _ I have inly wept, 200Or should have spoke ere this. Look down, you gods,And on this couple drop a blessed crown! For it is you that have chalk’d forth the wayWhich brought us hither. _Alon. _ I say, Amen, Gonzalo! _Gon. _ Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue 205Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoiceBeyond a common joy! and set it downWith gold on lasting pillars: In one voyageDid Claribel her husband find at Tunis,And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife 210Where he himself was lost, Prospero his dukedomIn a poor isle, and all of us ourselvesWhen no man was his own. _Alon. _ [_to Fer. and Mir. _] Give me your hands:Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heartThat doth not wish you joy! _Gon. _ Be it so! Amen! 215 _Re-enter ARIEL, with the _Master_ and _Boatswain_ amazedly following. _O, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us:I prophesied, if a gallows were on land,This fellow could not drown. Now, blasphemy,That swear’st grace o’erboard, not an oath on shore? Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the news? 220_Boats. _ The best news is, that we have safely foundOur king and company; the next, our ship--Which, but three glasses since, we gave out split--Is tight and yare and bravely rigg’d, as whenWe first put out to sea. _Ari. _ [_Aside to Pros. _] Sir, all this service 225Have I done since I went. _Pros. _ [_Aside to Ari. _] My tricksy spirit! _Alon. _ These are not natural events; they strengthenFrom strange to stranger. Say, how came you hither? _Boats. _ If I did think, sir, I were well awake,I’ld strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, 230And--how we know not--all clapp’d under hatches;Where, but even now, with strange and several noisesOf roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chains,And more diversity of sounds, all horrible,We were awaked; straightway, at liberty; 235Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheldOur royal, good, and gallant ship; our masterCapering to eye her:--on a trice, so please you,Even in a dream, were we divided from them,And were brought moping hither. _Ari. _ [_Aside to Pros. _] Was’t well done? 240_Pros. _ [_Aside to Ari. _] Bravely, my diligence. Thou shalt be free. _Alon. _ This is as strange a maze as e’er men trod;And there is in this business more than natureWas ever conduct of: some oracleMust rectify our knowledge. _Pros. _ Sir, my liege, 245Do not infest your mind with beating onThe strangeness of this business; at pick’d leisureWhich shall be shortly, single I’ll resolve you,Which to you shall seem probable, of everyThese happen’d accidents; till when, be cheerful, 250And think of each thing well. [_Aside to Ari. _] Come hither, spirit:Set Caliban and his companions free;Untie the spell. [_Exit Ariel. _] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your companySome few odd lads that you remember not. 255 _Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel. __Ste. _ Every man shift for all the rest, and let no mantake care for himself; for all is but fortune. --Coragio,bully-monster, coragio! _Trin. _ If these be true spies which I wear in my head,here’s a goodly sight. 260_Cal. _ O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraidHe will chastise me. _Seb. _ Ha, ha! What things are these, my lord Antonio? Will money buy ’em? _Ant. _ Very like; one of them 265Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. _Pros. _ Mark but the badges of these men, my lords,Then say if they be true. This mis-shapen knave,His mother was a witch; and one so strongThat could control the moon, make flows and ebbs, 270And deal in her command, without her power. These three have robb’d me; and this demi-devil--For he’s a bastard one--had plotted with themTo take my life. Two of these fellows youMust know and own; this thing of darkness I 275Acknowledge mine. _Cal. _ I shall be pinch’d to death. _Alon. _ Is not this Stephano, my drunken butler? _Seb. _ He is drunk now: where had he wine? _Alon. _ And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should theyFind this grand liquor that hath gilded ’em? -- 280How camest thou in this pickle? _Trin. _ I have been in such a pickle, since I saw youlast, that, I fear me, will never out of my bones: I shall notfear fly-blowing. _Seb. _ Why, how now, Stephano! 285_Ste. _ O, touch me not;--I am not Stephano, but a cramp. _Pros. _ You’ld be king o’ the isle, sirrah? _Ste. _ I should have been a sore one, then. _Alon. _ This is a strange thing as e’er I look’d on. [_Pointing to Caliban. __Pros. _ He is as disproportion’d in his manners 290As in his shape. Go, sirrah, to my cell;Take with you your companions; as you lookTo have my pardon, trim it handsomely. _Cal. _ Ay, that I will; and I’ll be wise hereafter,And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass 295Was I, to take this drunkard for a god,And worship this dull fool! _Pros. _ Go to; away! _Alon. _ Hence, and bestow your luggage where you found it. _Seb. _ Or stole it, rather. [_Exeunt Cal. , Ste. , and Trin. __Pros. _ Sir, I invite your Highness and your train 300To my poor cell, where you shall take your restFor this one night; which, part of it, I’ll wasteWith such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make itGo quick away: the story of my life,And the particular accidents gone by 305Since I came to this isle: and in the mornI’ll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples,Where I have hope to see the nuptialOf these our dear-beloved solemnized;And thence retire me to my Milan, where 310Every third thought shall be my grave. _Alon. _ I longTo hear the story of your life, which mustTake the ear strangely. _Pros. _ I’ll deliver all;And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales,And sail so expeditious, that shall catchYour royal fleet far off. [_Aside to Ari. _] My Ariel, chick, 315That is thy charge: then to the elementsBe free, and fare thou well! Please you, draw near. [_Exeunt. _ Notes: V, 1. 7: _together_] om. Pope. 9: _all_] _all your_ Pope. 10: _line-grove_] _lime-grove_ Rowe. 11: _your_] F1 F2. _you_ F3 F4. 15: _sir_] om. Pope. 16: _run_] _runs_ F1. _winter’s_] _winter_ F4. ] 23: F1 F2 put a comma after _sharply_. F3 F4 omit it. 24: _Passion_] _Passion’d_ Pope. 26: _’gainst_] Pope. _gainst_ F1 F2. _against_ F3 F4. 33: SCENE II. Pope. 37: _green sour_] _green-sward_ Douce conj. 46: _strong-based_] Rowe. _strong-bass’d_ Ff. 58: SCENE III. Pope. 60: _boil’d_] Pope. _boile_ F1 F2. _boil_ F3 F4. 62: _Holy_] _Noble_ Collier MS. 63: _show_] _shew_ Ff. _flow_ Collier MS. 64: _fellowly_] _fellow_ Pope. 68: _O_] _O my_ Pope. _O thou_ S. Walker conj. 69: _sir_] _servant_ Collier MS. 72: _Didst_] F3 F4. _Did_ F1 F2. 74: _Sebastian. Flesh and blood,_] _Sebastian, flesh and blood. _ Theobald. 75: _entertain’d_] _entertaine_ F1. 76: _who_] Rowe. _whom_ Ff. 82: _lies_] F3 F4. _ly_ F1 F2. 83: _or_] _e’er_ Collier MS. 84: Theobald gives as stage direction “Exit Ariel and returns immediately. ” 88: _suck_] _lurk_ Theobald. 90: _couch_] _crowch_ F3 F4. [Capell punctuates _There I couch: when owls do cry,_] 92: _summer_] _sun-set_ Theobald. 106: _Behold,_] _lo! _ Pope. 111: _Whether thou be’st_] _Where thou beest_ Ff. _Be’st thou_ Pope. _Whe’r thou be’st_ Capell. 112: _trifle_] _devil_ Collier MS. 119: _my_] _thy_ Collier MS. 124: _not_] F3 F4. _nor_ F1 F2. 132: _fault_] _faults_ F4.

136: _who_] F2 F3 F4. _whom_ F1. 145: _and,_] _sir, and_ Capell. _supportable_] F1 F2. _insupportable_ F3 F4. _portable_ Steevens. 148: _my_] _my only_ Hanmer. _A daughter_] _Only daughter_ Hanmer. _Daughter_ Capell. 156: _eyes_] F1. _eye_ F2 F3 F4. _their_] _these_ Capell. ] 172: SCENE IV. Pope. Here Prospero discovers. . . ] Ff. SCENE opens to the entrance of the cell. Here Prospero discovers. . . Theobald. Cell opens and discovers. . . Capell. ] 172: _dear’st_] _dearest_ Ff. 179: [Kneels] Theobald. 191: _advice_] F4. _advise_ F1 F2 F3. 199, 200: _remembrances with_] _remembrance with_ Pope. _remembrances With_ Malone. 213: _When_] _Where_ Johnson conj. ] _and_] om. Capell. 216: SCENE V. Pope. _sir, look, sir_] _sir, look_ F3 F4. ] _is_] _are_ Pope. ] 221: _safely_] _safe_ F3 F4. 230: _of sleep_] _a-sleep_ Pope. 234: _more_] Rowe. _mo_ F1 F2. _moe_ F3 F4. 236: _her_] Theobald (Thirlby conj. ). _our_ Ff. 242-245: Given to Ariel in F2 F3 F4. 247: _leisure_] F1. _seisure_ F2. _seizure_ F3 F4. 248: _Which shall be shortly, single_] Pope. _(which shall be shortly single)_ Ff. 253: [Exit Ariel] Capell. 256: SCENE VI. Pope. 258: _Coragio_] _corasio_ F1. 268: _mis-shapen_] _mis-shap’d_ Pope. 271: _command, without her power. _] _command. Without her power,_ anon. conj. _without_] _with all_ Collier MS. 280: _liquor_] _’lixir_ Theobald. 282-284: Printed as verse in Ff. 289: _This is_] F1 F2. _’Tis_ F3 F4. ] _e’er I_] _I ever_ Hanmer. [Pointing to Caliban. ] Steevens. ] 299: [Exeunt. . . Trin. ] Capell. 308: _nuptial_] _nuptiall_ F1. _nuptials_ F2 F3 F4. 309: See note (XVIII). EPILOGUE. SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. Now my charms are all o’erthrown,And what strength I have’s mine own,Which is most faint: now, ’tis true,I must be here confined by you,Or sent to Naples. Let me not, 5Since I have my dukedom got,And pardon’d the deceiver, dwellIn this bare island by your spell;But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands: 10Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please. Now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant;And my ending is despair, 15Unless I be relieved by prayer,Which pierces so, that it assaultsMercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon’d be,Let your indulgence set me free. 20 Notes: Epilogue. EPILOGUE . . . PROSPERO. ] advancing, Capell. ] 1: _Now_] _Now, now_ F3 F4. 3: _now_] _and now_ Pope. 13: _Now_] _For now_ Pope. NOTES. NOTE I. I. 1. 15. _What cares these roarers. _ This grammatical inaccuracy, whichescaped correction in the later folios, probably came from Shakespeare’spen. Similar cases occur frequently, especially when the verb precedesits nominative. For example, _Tempest_, IV. 1. 262, ‘Lies at my mercyall mine enemies,’ and _Measure for Measure_, II. 1. 22, ‘What knows thelaws, &c. ’ We correct it in those passages where the occurrence of avulgarism would be likely to annoy the reader. In the mouth of aBoatswain it can offend no one. We therefore leave it. NOTE II. I. 1. 57-59. _Mercy on us! --we split, &c. _ It may be doubtful whetherthe printer of the first folio intended these broken speeches to express‘a confused noise within. ’ Without question such was the author’smeaning. Rowe, however, and subsequent editors, printed them as part ofGonzalo’s speech. Capell was the first editor who gave the truearrangement. NOTE III. I. 2. 173. _princesses. _ See Mr Sidney Walker’s _Shakespeare’sVersification_, p. 243 sqq. ’The plurals of substantives ending in _s_,in certain instances, in _se_, _ss_, _ce_, and sometimes _ge_, . . . arefound without the usual addition of _s_ or _es_, in pronunciation atleast, although in many instances the plural affix is added in printing,where the metre shows that it is not to be pronounced. ’In this and other instances, we have thought it better to trust to theear of the reader for the rhythm than to introduce an innovation inorthography which might perplex him as to the sense. The form‘princesses,’ the use of which in Shakespeare’s time was doubted by oneof our correspondents, is found in the _History of King Leir_. Rowe’s reading ‘princes’ might be defended on the ground that thesentiment is general, and applicable to royal children of both sexes; orthat Sir Philip Sidney, in the first book of the _Arcadia_, calls Pamelaand Philoclea ‘princes. ’NOTE IV. I. 2. 298. The metre of this line, as well as of lines 301, 302, isdefective, but as no mode of correction can be regarded as completelysatisfactory we have in accordance with our custom left the lines asthey are printed in the Folio. The defect, indeed, in the metre of line298 has not been noticed except by Hanmer, who makes a line thus: ‘Do so, and after two days I’ll discharge thee. ’Possibly it ought to be printed thus: ‘Do so; and After two days I will discharge thee. ’There is a broken line, also of four syllables, 253 of the same scene,another of seven, 235. There is no reason to doubt that the _words_ are as Shakespeare wrotethem, for, although the action of the play terminates in less than fourhours (I. 2. 240 and V. 1. 186), yet Ariel’s ministry is not to end tillthe voyage to Naples shall be over. Prospero, too, repeats his promise,and marks his contentment by further shortening the time of servitude,‘within two days,’ I. 2. 420. Possibly ‘Invisible’ (301) should have aline to itself. Words thus occupying a broken line acquire a markedemphasis. But the truth is that in dialogue Shakespeare’s language passes sorapidly from verse to prose and from prose to verse, sometimes evenhovering, as it were, over the confines, being rhythmical rather thanmetrical, that all attempts to give regularity to the metre must be madewith diffidence and received with doubt. NOTE V. I. 2. 377, 378: _Courtsied when you have and kiss’d_ _The wild waves whist. _This punctuation seems to be supported by what Ferdinand says (391,392): ‘The music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion, &c. ’At the end of the stanza we have printed _Hark, hark! . . . The watch-dogsbark_ as that part of the burthen which ‘sweet sprites bear. ’ The otherpart is borne by distant watch-dogs. NOTE VI. I. 2. 443. _I fear you have done yourself some wrong. _ See this phraseused in a similar sense, _Measure for Measure_, I. 11. 39. NOTE VII. II. 1. 27. _Which, of he or Adrian. _ ‘Of’ is found in the sameconstruction, _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, III. 2. 336, ‘Now follow if thou darest to try whose right, Of thine or mine, is most in Helena. ’NOTE VIII. II. 1. 157. _Of its own kind. _ There is no doubt, as Dr Guest has shewn,that ‘it,’ which is the reading of the 1st and 2nd folios, was commonlyused as a genitive in Shakespeare’s time, as it is still in someprovincial dialects.

‘Its,’ however, was coming into use. One instanceoccurs in this play, I. 11. 95, ‘in its contrary. ’NOTE IX. II. 1. 241. _she that from whom. _ Mr Spedding writes: ‘The receivedemendation is not satisfactory to me. I would rather read, “Shethat--From whom? All were sea-swallow’d &c. , i. e. from whom should shehave note? The report from Naples will be that all were drowned. Weshall be the only survivors. ” The break in the construction seems to mecharacteristic of the speaker. But you must read the whole speech tofeel the effect. ’NOTE X. II. 1. 249-251. All editors except Mr Staunton have printed in italics(or between inverted commas) only as far as ‘_Naples? _’, but as ‘_keep_’is printed with a small k in the folios, they seem to sanction thearrangement given in our text. NOTE XI. II. 1. 267. _Ay, sir; where lies that? if ’twere a kibe. _ Mr Singer andMr Dyce have changed ‘’twere’ to ‘it were’ for the sake of the metre. But then the first part of the line must be read with a wrong emphasis. The proper emphasis clearly falls on the first, third, and fifthsyllables, ‘Aý, sir; whére lies thát? ’ See Preface. NOTE XII. II. 2. 165. Before ‘here; bear my bottle’ Capell inserts a stagedirection [_To Cal. _], but it appears from III. 2. 62, that Trinculo wasentrusted with the office of bottle-bearer. NOTE XIII. III. 1. 15. _Most busy lest, when I do it. _ As none of the proposedemendations can be regarded as certain, we have left the reading of F1,though it is manifestly corrupt. The spelling ‘doe’ makes Mr Spedding’sconjecture ‘idlest’ for ‘I doe it’ more probable. NOTE XIV. III. 3. 17. The stage direction, which we have divided into two parts,is placed all at once in the folios after ‘as when they are fresh’[Solemne and strange Musicke; and Prosper on the top (invisible:) Enter. . . depart]. Pope transferred it to follow Sebastian’s words, ‘I say, to night: nomore. ’NOTE XV. III. 3. 48. _Each putter out of five for one. _ See Beaumont andFletcher, _The Noble Gentleman_, I. 1. (Vol. II. p. 261, ed. Moxon):‘The return will give you five for one. ’ MARINE is about to travel. NOTE XVI. IV. 1. 146. _You do look, my son, in a moved sort. _ Seymour suggests atransposition: ‘you do, my son, look in a moved sort. ’ This line howevercan scarcely have come from Shakespeare’s pen. Perhaps the writer whocomposed the Masque was allowed to join it, as best he might, toShakespeare’s words, which re-commence at ‘Our revels now are ended,’&c. NOTE XVII. IV. 1. 230. _Let’s alone. _ See Staunton’s “Shakespeare,” Vol. I. p. 81,note (b). NOTE XVIII. V. 1. 309. _Of these our dear-beloved solemnized. _ The Folios have‘belov’d’; a mode of spelling, which in this case is convenient asindicating the probable rhythm of the verse. We have written ‘beloved,’in accordance with the general rule mentioned in the Preface. ‘Solemnized’ occurs in four other verse passages of Shakespeare. It isthree times to be accented ‘sólemnized’ and once (_Love’s Labour’sLost_, II. 1. 41) ‘solémnized. ’ * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Sources:The editors’ Preface (e-text 23041) discusses the 17th- and18th-century editions in detail; the newer (19th-century) editionsare simply listed by name. The following editions may appear in theNotes. All inset text is quoted from the Preface. Folios: F1 1623; F2 (no date given); F3 1663; F4 1685. “The five plays contained in this volume occur in the first Folio in the same order, and . . . were there printed for the first time. ” Early editions: Rowe 1709 Pope 1715 “Pope was the first to indicate the _place_ of each new scene; as, for instance, _Tempest_, I. 1. ‘On a ship at sea. ’ He also subdivided the scenes as given by the Folios and Rowe, making a fresh scene whenever a new character entered--an arrangement followed by Hanmer, Warburton, and Johnson. For convenience of reference to these editions, we have always recorded the commencement of Pope’s scenes. ” Theobald 1733 Hanmer (“Oxford edition”) 1744 Warburton 1747 Johnson 1765 Capell 1768; _also Capell’s annotated copy of F2_ Steevens 1773 Malone 1790 Reed 1803 Later editions: Singer, Knight, Cornwall, Collier, Phelps, Halliwell, Dyce, Staunton Dryden: “_The Tempest_ was altered by Dryden and D’Avenant, and published as _The Tempest; or the Enchanted Island_, in 1669. We mark the emendations derived from it: ‘Dryden’s version. ’”Errors and inconsistencies: _Re-enter Boatswain. _ [printed BOATSWAIN in small capitals] _Enter _Ariel_. _ [printed “Ariel” in lower case] Where my son lies. When did you lose you daughter? [Text unchanged: error for “your”? ] [Text-critical notes] I. 2. 135: _to ’t_] om. Steevens (Farmer conj. ). [Here and elsewhere in the volume, body text has unspaced “to’t” while line notes have spaced “to ’t”. ] I. 2. 202: _o’ the_] _of_ Pope. [Text unchanged: body text is capitalized “O’ the”] II. 1. 88: _Ay. _] I. Ff. _Ay? _ Pope. [Text unchanged: apparent error for italic _I. _] III. 3. 17: Prospero above] [Text unchanged: stage direction is after l. 19] [Endnotes] I: I. 1. 15. [I. 1. 16] V: 377, 378. [376-377] XVI: IV. 1. 146 [IV. 1. 147]End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Tempest, by William Shakespeare*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TEMPEST ******** This file should be named 23042-0. txt or 23042-0. zip *****This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www. gutenberg. org/2/3/0/4/23042/Produced by Louise Hope, Jonathan Ingram and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www. pgdp. net (Thisfile was produced from images generously made availableby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editionswill be renamed. Creating the works from public domain print editions means that noone owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation(and you! ) can copy and distribute it in the United States withoutpermission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply tocopying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works toprotect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. ProjectGutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if youcharge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If youdo not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with therules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purposesuch as creation of derivative works, reports, performances andresearch. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may dopractically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution issubject to the trademark license, especially commercialredistribution. *** START: FULL LICENSE ***THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSEPLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORKTo protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full ProjectGutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online athttp://gutenberg. org/license). Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic works1. A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree toand accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by allthe terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroyall copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by theterms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person orentity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1. E. 8. 1. B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic workseven without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1. C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreementand help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks. See paragraph 1. E below. 1.

C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in thecollection are in the public domain in the United States. If anindividual work is in the public domain in the United States and you arelocated in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you fromcopying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivativeworks based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenbergare removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the ProjectGutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works byfreely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms ofthis agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated withthe work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement bykeeping this work in the same format with its attached full ProjectGutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. 1. D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also governwhat you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are ina constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, checkthe laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreementbefore downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing orcreating derivative works based on this work or any other ProjectGutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerningthe copyright status of any work in any country outside the UnitedStates. 1. E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:1. E. 1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediateaccess to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominentlywhenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which thephrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "ProjectGutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,copied or distributed:This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. org1. E. 2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derivedfrom the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it isposted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copiedand distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any feesor charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a workwith the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on thework, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1. E. 1through 1. E. 7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and theProject Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1. E. 8 or1. E. 9. 1. E. 3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is postedwith the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distributionmust comply with both paragraphs 1. E. 1 through 1. E. 7 and any additionalterms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linkedto the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with thepermission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1. E. 4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense terms from this work, or any files containing a part of thiswork or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. 1. E. 5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1. E. 1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg-tm License. 1. E. 6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including anyword processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to ordistribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official versionposted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www. gutenberg. org),you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide acopy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy uponrequest, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or otherform. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense as specified in paragraph 1. E. 1. 1. E. 7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm worksunless you comply with paragraph 1. E. 8 or 1. E. 9. 1. E. 8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providingaccess to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works providedthat- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. "- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1. F. 3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. 1. E. 9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic work or group of works on different terms than are setforth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing fromboth the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and MichaelHart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact theFoundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1. F. 1. F. 1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadpublic domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tmcollection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate orcorrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectualproperty infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, acomputer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read byyour equipment. 1. F. 2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Rightof Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1. F. 3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE. 1. F. 3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending awritten explanation to the person you received the work from. If youreceived the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium withyour written explanation. The person or entity that provided you withthe defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of arefund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entityproviding it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity toreceive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copyis also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without furtheropportunities to fix the problem. 1. F. 4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1. F. 3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHERWARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TOWARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1. F. 5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain impliedwarranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates thelaw of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall beinterpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted bythe applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of anyprovision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1. F. 6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, thetrademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyoneproviding copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordancewith this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you door cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tmwork, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to anyProject Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tmProject Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution ofelectronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computersincluding obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It existsbecause of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations frompeople in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm'sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundationand how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4and the Foundation web page at http://www. pglaf. org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary ArchiveFoundationThe Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted athttp://pglaf. org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extentpermitted by U. S. federal laws and your state's laws. The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712. , but its volunteers and employees are scatteredthroughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, emailbusiness@pglaf. org. Email contact links and up to date contactinformation can be found at the Foundation's web site and officialpage at http://pglaf. orgFor additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby Chief Executive and Director gbnewby@pglaf. orgSection 4. Information about Donations to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive FoundationProject Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission ofincreasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can befreely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widestarray of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exemptstatus with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulatingcharities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the UnitedStates. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes aconsiderable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep upwith these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locationswhere we have not received written confirmation of compliance. ToSEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for anyparticular state visit http://pglaf. orgWhile we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where wehave not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibitionagainst accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states whoapproach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot makeany statements concerning tax treatment of donations received fromoutside the United States. U. S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf. org/donateSection 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks. Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tmconcept of a library of electronic works that could be freely sharedwith anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed ProjectGutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U. S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarilykeep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: http://www. gutenberg. orgThis Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how tosubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare*******************************************************************THIS EBOOK WAS ONE OF PROJECT GUTENBERG'S EARLY FILES PRODUCED AT ATIME WHEN PROOFING METHODS AND TOOLS WERE NOT WELL DEVELOPED. THEREIS AN IMPROVED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY BE VIEWED AS EBOOK(#1513) at https://www. gutenberg. org/ebooks/1513*******************************************************************This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www. gutenberg. org/licenseTitle: Romeo and JulietAuthor: William ShakespearePosting Date: May 25, 2012 [EBook #1112]Release Date: November, 1997 [Etext #1112]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROMEO AND JULIET ****Project Gutenberg is proud to cooperate with The World Library*in the presentation of The Complete Works of William Shakespearefor your reading for education and entertainment. HOWEVER, THISIS NEITHER SHAREWARE NOR PUBLIC DOMAIN. . . AND UNDER THE LIBRARYOF THE FUTURE CONDITIONS OF THIS PRESENTATION. . . NO CHARGES MAYBE MADE FOR *ANY* ACCESS TO THIS MATERIAL. YOU ARE ENCOURAGED! ! TO GIVE IT AWAY TO ANYONE YOU LIKE, BUT NO CHARGES ARE ALLOWED! ! The Complete Works of William ShakespeareThe Tragedy of Romeo and JulietThe Library of the Future Complete Works of William ShakespeareLibrary of the Future is a TradeMark (TM) of World Library Inc. <<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAMSHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC. , AND ISPROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITYWITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BEDISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERSPERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USEDCOMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANYSERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP. >>1595THE TRAGEDY OF ROMEO AND JULIETby William ShakespeareDramatis Personae Chorus. Escalus, Prince of Verona. Paris, a young Count, kinsman to the Prince. Montague, heads of two houses at variance with each other. Capulet, heads of two houses at variance with each other. An old Man, of the Capulet family. Romeo, son to Montague. Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. Mercutio, kinsman to the Prince and friend to Romeo. Benvolio, nephew to Montague, and friend to Romeo Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet. Friar Laurence, Franciscan. Friar John, Franciscan. Balthasar, servant to Romeo. Abram, servant to Montague. Sampson, servant to Capulet. Gregory, servant to Capulet. Peter, servant to Juliet's nurse. An Apothecary. Three Musicians. An Officer. Lady Montague, wife to Montague. Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet. Juliet, daughter to Capulet. Nurse to Juliet. Citizens of Verona; Gentlemen and Gentlewomen of both houses; Maskers, Torchbearers, Pages, Guards, Watchmen, Servants, and Attendants. SCENE. --Verona; Mantua. THE PROLOGUE Enter Chorus. Chor. Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, And the continuance of their parents' rage, Which, but their children's end, naught could remove, Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage; The which if you with patient ears attend, What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend. [Exit. ]ACT I. Scene I. Verona. A public place. Enter Sampson and Gregory (with swords and bucklers) of the houseof Capulet. Samp. Gregory, on my word, we'll not carry coals. Greg. No, for then we should be colliers. Samp. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. Greg. Ay, while you live, draw your neck out of collar. Samp. I strike quickly, being moved. Greg. But thou art not quickly moved to strike. Samp. A dog of the house of Montague moves me. Greg. To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand. Therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. Samp. A dog of that house shall move me to stand. I will take the wall of any man or maid of Montague's. Greg. That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. Samp. 'Tis true; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall. Therefore I will push Montague's men from the wall and thrust his maids to the wall. Greg. The quarrel is between our masters and us their men. Samp. 'Tis all one. I will show myself a tyrant. When I have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the maids- I will cut off their heads. Greg. The heads of the maids? Samp. Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads. Take it in what sense thou wilt. Greg. They must take it in sense that feel it. Samp. Me they shall feel while I am able to stand; and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. Greg. 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor-John. Draw thy tool! Here comes two of the house of Montagues. Enter two other Servingmen [Abram and Balthasar]. Samp. My naked weapon is out. Quarrel! I will back thee. Greg. How? turn thy back and run? Samp. Fear me not. Greg. No, marry. I fear thee! Samp. Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin. Greg. I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. Samp. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them; which is disgrace to them, if they bear it. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Samp. I do bite my thumb, sir. Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? Samp. [aside to Gregory] Is the law of our side if I say ay? Greg. [aside to Sampson] No. Samp. No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at you, sir; but I bite my thumb, sir. Greg. Do you quarrel, sir? Abr. Quarrel, sir? No, sir. Samp. But if you do, sir, am for you. I serve as good a man as you. Abr. No better. Samp. Well, sir. Enter Benvolio. Greg. [aside to Sampson] Say 'better. ' Here comes one of my master's kinsmen. Samp. Yes, better, sir. Abr. You lie. Samp. Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy swashing blow. They fight. Ben. Part, fools! [Beats down their swords. ] Put up your swords. You know not what you do. Enter Tybalt. Tyb. What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio! look upon thy death. Ben. I do but keep the peace. Put up thy sword, Or manage it to part these men with me. Tyb. What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee. Have at thee, coward! They fight. Enter an officer, and three or four Citizens with clubs or partisans.

Officer. Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! beat them down! Citizens. Down with the Capulets! Down with the Montagues! Enter Old Capulet in his gown, and his Wife. Cap. What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho! Wife. A crutch, a crutch! Why call you for a sword? Cap. My sword, I say! Old Montague is come And flourishes his blade in spite of me. Enter Old Montague and his Wife. Mon. Thou villain Capulet! - Hold me not, let me go. M. Wife. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe. Enter Prince Escalus, with his Train. Prince. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel- Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistempered weapons to the ground And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Cank'red with peace, to part your cank'red hate. If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away. You, Capulet, shall go along with me; And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our farther pleasure in this case, To old Freetown, our common judgment place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. Exeunt [all but Montague, his Wife, and Benvolio]. Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? Ben. Here were the servants of your adversary And yours, close fighting ere I did approach. I drew to part them. In the instant came The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepar'd; Which, as he breath'd defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who, nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn. While we were interchanging thrusts and blows, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part. M. Wife. O, where is Romeo? Saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the city's side, So early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made; but he was ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood. I- measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self- Pursu'd my humour, not Pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. Mon. Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest East bean to draw The shady curtains from Aurora's bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humour prove Unless good counsel may the cause remove. Ben. My noble uncle, do you know the cause? Mon. I neither know it nor can learn of him Ben. Have you importun'd him by any means? Mon. Both by myself and many other friend; But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself- I will not say how true- But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow, We would as willingly give cure as know. Enter Romeo. Ben. See, where he comes. So please you step aside, I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. Mon. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away, Exeunt [Montague and Wife]. Ben. Good morrow, cousin. Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new struck nine. Rom. Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Rom. Not having that which having makes them short. Ben. In love? Rom. Out- Ben. Of love? Rom. Out of her favour where I am in love. Ben. Alas that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Rom. Alas that love, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O anything, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? Ben. No, coz, I rather weep. Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good heart's oppression. Rom. Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. Ben. Soft! I will go along. An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. Rom. Tut! I have lost myself; I am not here: This is not Romeo, he's some other where. Ben. Tell me in sadness, who is that you love? Rom. What, shall I groan and tell thee? Ben. Groan? Why, no; But sadly tell me who. Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his will. Ah, word ill urg'd to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. Ben. I aim'd so near when I suppos'd you lov'd. Rom. A right good markman! And she's fair I love. Ben. A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. Rom. Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From Love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. O, she's rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ben. Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste; For beauty, starv'd with her severity, Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair. She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now. Ben. Be rul'd by me: forget to think of her. Rom. O, teach me how I should forget to think! Ben. By giving liberty unto thine eyes. Examine other beauties. Rom. 'Tis the way To call hers (exquisite) in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Being black puts us in mind they hide the fair. He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost. Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve but as a note Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget. Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt. Scene II.

A Street. Enter Capulet, County Paris, and [Servant] -the Clown. Cap. But Montague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the peace. Par. Of honourable reckoning are you both, And pity 'tis you liv'd at odds so long. But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? Cap. But saying o'er what I have said before: My child is yet a stranger in the world, She hath not seen the change of fourteen years; Let two more summers wither in their pride Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. Par. Younger than she are happy mothers made. Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she; She is the hopeful lady of my earth. But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart; My will to her consent is but a part. An she agree, within her scope of choice Lies my consent and fair according voice. This night I hold an old accustom'd feast, Whereto I have invited many a guest, Such as I love; and you among the store, One more, most welcome, makes my number more. At my poor house look to behold this night Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light. Such comfort as do lusty young men feel When well apparell'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads, even such delight Among fresh female buds shall you this night Inherit at my house. Hear all, all see, And like her most whose merit most shall be; Which, on more view of many, mine, being one, May stand in number, though in reck'ning none. Come, go with me. [To Servant, giving him a paper] Go, sirrah, trudge about Through fair Verona; find those persons out Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome on their pleasure stay- Exeunt [Capulet and Paris]. Serv. Find them out whose names are written here? It is written that the shoemaker should meddle with his yard and the tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil and the painter with his nets; but I am sent to find those persons whose names are here writ, and can never find what names the writing person hath here writ. I must to the learned. In good time! Enter Benvolio and Romeo. Ben. Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning; One pain is lessoned by another's anguish; Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning; One desperate grief cures with another's languish. Take thou some new infection to thy eye, And the rank poison of the old will die. Rom. Your plantain leaf is excellent for that. Ben. For what, I pray thee? Rom. For your broken shin. Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a madman is; Shut up in Prison, kept without my food, Whipp'd and tormented and- God-den, good fellow. Serv. God gi' go-den. I pray, sir, can you read? Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. Serv. Perhaps you have learned it without book. But I pray, can you read anything you see? Rom. Ay, If I know the letters and the language. Serv. Ye say honestly. Rest you merry! Rom. Stay, fellow; I can read. He reads. 'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters; County Anselmo and his beauteous sisters; The lady widow of Vitruvio; Signior Placentio and His lovely nieces; Mercutio and his brother Valentine; Mine uncle Capulet, his wife, and daughters; My fair niece Rosaline and Livia; Signior Valentio and His cousin Tybalt; Lucio and the lively Helena. ' [Gives back the paper. ] A fair assembly. Whither should they come? Serv. Up. Rom. Whither? Serv. To supper, to our house. Rom. Whose house? Serv. My master's. Rom. Indeed I should have ask'd you that before. Serv. Now I'll tell you without asking. My master is the great rich Capulet; and if you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry! Exit. Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet's Sups the fair Rosaline whom thou so lov'st; With all the admired beauties of Verona. Go thither, and with unattainted eye Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. Rom. When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; And these, who, often drown'd, could never die, Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars! One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun. Ben. Tut! you saw her fair, none else being by, Herself pois'd with herself in either eye; But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd Your lady's love against some other maid That I will show you shining at this feast, And she shall scant show well that now seems best. Rom. I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendour of my own. [Exeunt. ]Scene III. Capulet's house. Enter Capulet's Wife, and Nurse. Wife. Nurse, where's my daughter? Call her forth to me. Nurse. Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what ladybird! God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Juliet! Enter Juliet. Jul. How now? Who calls? Nurse. Your mother. Jul. Madam, I am here. What is your will? Wife. This is the matter- Nurse, give leave awhile, We must talk in secret. Nurse, come back again; I have rememb'red me, thou's hear our counsel. Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. Nurse. Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour. Wife. She's not fourteen. Nurse. I'll lay fourteen of my teeth- And yet, to my teen be it spoken, I have but four- She is not fourteen. How long is it now To Lammastide? Wife. A fortnight and odd days. Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the year, Come Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen. Susan and she (God rest all Christian souls! ) Were of an age. Well, Susan is with God; She was too good for me. But, as I said, On Lammas Eve at night shall she be fourteen; That shall she, marry; I remember it well. 'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; And she was wean'd (I never shall forget it), Of all the days of the year, upon that day; For I had then laid wormwood to my dug, Sitting in the sun under the dovehouse wall. My lord and you were then at Mantua. Nay, I do bear a brain. But, as I said, When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool, To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug! Shake, quoth the dovehouse! 'Twas no need, I trow, To bid me trudge. And since that time it is eleven years, For then she could stand high-lone; nay, by th' rood, She could have run and waddled all about; For even the day before, she broke her brow; And then my husband (God be with his soul! 'A was a merry man) took up the child. 'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule? ' and, by my holidam, The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay. ' To see now how a jest shall come about! I warrant, an I should live a thousand yeas, I never should forget it. 'Wilt thou not, Jule? ' quoth he, And, pretty fool, it stinted, and said 'Ay. ' Wife. Enough of this. I pray thee hold thy peace. Nurse. Yes, madam. Yet I cannot choose but laugh To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay. ' And yet, I warrant, it bad upon it brow A bump as big as a young cock'rel's stone; A perilous knock; and it cried bitterly. 'Yea,' quoth my husband, 'fall'st upon thy face? Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age; Wilt thou not, Jule? ' It stinted, and said 'Ay. ' Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, say I. Nurse. Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nurs'd. An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish. Wife. Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your disposition to be married? Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. Nurse. An honour? Were not I thine only nurse, I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat. Wife. Well, think of marriage now. Younger than you, Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, Are made already mothers. By my count, I was your mother much upon these years That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief: The valiant Paris seeks you for his love. Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a man As all the world- why he's a man of wax.

Wife. Verona's summer hath not such a flower. Nurse. Nay, he's a flower, in faith- a very flower. Wife. What say you? Can you love the gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our feast. Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face, And find delight writ there with beauty's pen; Examine every married lineament, And see how one another lends content; And what obscur'd in this fair volume lies Find written in the margent of his eyes, This precious book of love, this unbound lover, To beautify him only lacks a cover. The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride For fair without the fair within to hide. That book in many's eyes doth share the glory, That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; So shall you share all that he doth possess, By having him making yourself no less. Nurse. No less? Nay, bigger! Women grow by men Wife. Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' love? Jul. I'll look to like, if looking liking move; But no more deep will I endart mine eye Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. Enter Servingman. Serv. Madam, the guests are come, supper serv'd up, you call'd, my young lady ask'd for, the nurse curs'd in the pantry, and everything in extremity. I must hence to wait. I beseech you follow straight. Wife. We follow thee. Exit [Servingman]. Juliet, the County stays. Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days. Exeunt. Scene IV. A street. Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio, with five or six other Maskers;Torchbearers. Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without apology? Ben. The date is out of such prolixity. We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf, Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath, Scaring the ladies like a crowkeeper; Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke After the prompter, for our entrance; But, let them measure us by what they will, We'll measure them a measure, and be gone. Rom. Give me a torch. I am not for this ambling. Being but heavy, I will bear the light. Mer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance. Rom. Not I, believe me. You have dancing shoes With nimble soles; I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move. Mer. You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings And soar with them above a common bound. Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his shaft To soar with his light feathers; and so bound I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe. Under love's heavy burthen do I sink. Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burthen love- Too great oppression for a tender thing. Rom. Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, Too rude, too boist'rous, and it pricks like thorn. Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in. A visor for a visor! What care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me. Ben. Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in But every man betake him to his legs. Rom. A torch for me! Let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels; For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase, I'll be a candle-holder and look on; The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. Mer. Tut! dun's the mouse, the constable's own word! If thou art Dun, we'll draw thee from the mire Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho! Rom. Nay, that's not so. Mer. I mean, sir, in delay We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits Five times in that ere once in our five wits. Rom. And we mean well, in going to this masque; But 'tis no wit to go. Mer. Why, may one ask? Rom. I dreamt a dream to-night. Mer. And so did I. Rom. Well, what was yours? Mer. That dreamers often lie. Rom. In bed asleep, while they do dream things true. Mer. O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider's web; Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams; Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she 'gallops night by night Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on cursies straight; O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees; O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fadom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish, hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she- Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of nothing. Mer. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the North And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping South. Ben. This wind you talk of blows us from ourselves. Supper is done, and we shall come too late. Rom. I fear, too early; for my mind misgives Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life, clos'd in my breast, By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But he that hath the steerage of my course Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen! Ben. Strike, drum. They march about the stage. [Exeunt. ]Scene V. Capulet's house. Servingmen come forth with napkins. 1. Serv. Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He shift a trencher! he scrape a trencher! 2. Serv. When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's hands, and they unwash'd too, 'tis a foul thing. 1. Serv. Away with the join-stools, remove the court-cubbert, look to the plate. Good thou, save me a piece of marchpane and, as thou loves me, let the porter let in Susan Grindstone andNell. Anthony, and Potpan! 2. Serv. Ay, boy, ready. 1. Serv. You are look'd for and call'd for, ask'd for and sought for, in the great chamber. 3. Serv. We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys! Be brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all. Exeunt. Enter the Maskers, Enter, [with Servants,] Capulet, his Wife, Juliet, Tybalt, and all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers. Cap. Welcome, gentlemen! Ladies that have their toes Unplagu'd with corns will have a bout with you. Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She I'll swear hath corns. Am I come near ye now? Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day That I have worn a visor and could tell A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, Such as would please. 'Tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone! You are welcome, gentlemen! Come, musicians, play. A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls. Music plays, and they dance. More light, you knaves! and turn the tables up, And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Capulet, For you and I are past our dancing days. How long is't now since last yourself and I Were in a mask? 2. Cap. By'r Lady, thirty years. Cap. What, man? 'Tis not so much, 'tis not so much! 'Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, Come Pentecost as quickly as it will, Some five-and-twenty years, and then we mask'd. 2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more! His son is elder, sir; His son is thirty. Cap.

Will you tell me that? His son was but a ward two years ago. Rom. [to a Servingman] What lady's that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight? Serv. I know not, sir. Rom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear- Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Montague. Fetch me my rapier, boy. What, dares the slave Come hither, cover'd with an antic face, To fleer and scorn at our solemnity? Now, by the stock and honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. Cap. Why, how now, kinsman? Wherefore storm you so? Tyb. Uncle, this is a Montague, our foe; A villain, that is hither come in spite To scorn at our solemnity this night. Cap. Young Romeo is it? Tyb. 'Tis he, that villain Romeo. Cap. Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone. 'A bears him like a portly gentleman, And, to say truth, Verona brags of him To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth. I would not for the wealth of all this town Here in my house do him disparagement. Therefore be patient, take no note of him. It is my will; the which if thou respect, Show a fair presence and put off these frowns, An ill-beseeming semblance for a feast. Tyb. It fits when such a villain is a guest. I'll not endure him. Cap. He shall be endur'd. What, goodman boy? I say he shall. Go to! Am I the master here, or you? Go to! You'll not endure him? God shall mend my soul! You'll make a mutiny among my guests! You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man! Tyb. Why, uncle, 'tis a shame. Cap. Go to, go to! You are a saucy boy. Is't so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you. I know what. You must contrary me! Marry, 'tis time. - Well said, my hearts! - You are a princox- go! Be quiet, or- More light, more light! - For shame! I'll make you quiet; what! - Cheerly, my hearts! Tyb. Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting. I will withdraw; but this intrusion shall, Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall. Exit. Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too? Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray'r. Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do! They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake. Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd. [Kisses her. ] Jul. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! Give me my sin again. [Kisses her. ] Jul. You kiss by th' book. Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word with you. Rom. What is her mother? Nurse. Marry, bachelor, Her mother is the lady of the house. And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous. I nurs'd her daughter that you talk'd withal. I tell you, he that can lay hold of her Shall have the chinks. Rom. Is she a Capulet? O dear account! my life is my foe's debt. Ben. Away, be gone; the sport is at the best. Rom. Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest. Cap. Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone; We have a trifling foolish banquet towards. Is it e'en so? Why then, I thank you all. I thank you, honest gentlemen. Good night. More torches here! [Exeunt Maskers. ] Come on then, let's to bed. Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late; I'll to my rest. Exeunt [all but Juliet and Nurse]. Jul. Come hither, nurse. What is yond gentleman? Nurse. The son and heir of old Tiberio. Jul. What's he that now is going out of door? Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Petruchio. Jul. What's he that follows there, that would not dance? Nurse. I know not. Jul. Go ask his name. - If he be married, My grave is like to be my wedding bed. Nurse. His name is Romeo, and a Montague, The only son of your great enemy. Jul. My only love, sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! Prodigious birth of love it is to me That I must love a loathed enemy. Nurse. What's this? what's this? Jul. A rhyme I learnt even now Of one I danc'd withal. One calls within, 'Juliet. ' Nurse. Anon, anon! Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone. Exeunt. PROLOGUEEnter Chorus. Chor. Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir; That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair. Now Romeo is belov'd, and loves again, Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; But to his foe suppos'd he must complain, And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks. Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, And she as much in love, her means much less To meet her new beloved anywhere; But passion lends them power, time means, to meet, Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. Exit. ACT II. Scene I. A lane by the wall of Capulet's orchard. Enter Romeo alone. Rom. Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. [Climbs the wall and leaps down within it. ] Enter Benvolio with Mercutio. Ben. Romeo! my cousin Romeo! Romeo! Mer. He is wise, And, on my life, hath stol'n him home to bed. Ben. He ran this way, and leapt this orchard wall. Call, good Mercutio. Mer.

Nay, I'll conjure too. Romeo! humours! madman! passion! lover! Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh; Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied! Cry but 'Ay me! ' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove'; Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word, One nickname for her purblind son and heir, Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim When King Cophetua lov'd the beggar maid! He heareth not, he stirreth not, be moveth not; The ape is dead, and I must conjure him. I conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes. By her high forehead and her scarlet lip, By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering thigh, And the demesnes that there adjacent lie, That in thy likeness thou appear to us! Ben. An if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him. Mer. This cannot anger him. 'Twould anger him To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle Of some strange nature, letting it there stand Till she had laid it and conjur'd it down. That were some spite; my invocation Is fair and honest: in his mistress' name, I conjure only but to raise up him. Ben. Come, he hath hid himself among these trees To be consorted with the humorous night. Blind is his love and best befits the dark. Mer. If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark. Now will he sit under a medlar tree And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit As maids call medlars when they laugh alone. O, Romeo, that she were, O that she were An open et cetera, thou a pop'rin pear! Romeo, good night. I'll to my truckle-bed; This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep. Come, shall we go? Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vain 'To seek him here that means not to be found. Exeunt. Scene II. Capulet's orchard. Enter Romeo. Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. Enter Juliet above at a window. But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my lady; O, it is my love! O that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold; 'tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek! Jul. Ay me! Rom. She speaks. O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air. Jul. O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. Rom. [aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this? Jul. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy. Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself. Rom. I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; Henceforth I never will be Romeo. Jul. What man art thou that, thus bescreen'd in night, So stumblest on my counsel? Rom. By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word. Jul. My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here. Rom. With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me. Jul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee. Rom. Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords! Look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity. Jul. I would not for the world they saw thee here. Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By love, that first did prompt me to enquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise. Jul. Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face; Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form- fain, fain deny What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me, I know thou wilt say 'Ay'; And I will take thy word. Yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries, They say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light; But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true Than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, My true-love passion. Therefore pardon me, And not impute this yielding to light love, Which the dark night hath so discovered. Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops- Jul. O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, That monthly changes in her circled orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. Rom. What shall I swear by? Jul. Do not swear at all; Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, Which is the god of my idolatry, And I'll believe thee. Rom. If my heart's dear love- Jul. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night. It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens. ' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flow'r when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast! Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? Rom. Th' exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine. Jul. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; And yet I would it were to give again. Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love? Jul. But to be frank and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear some noise within. Dear love, adieu! [Nurse] calls within. Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. ] Rom. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. Enter Juliet above. Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed. If that thy bent of love be honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, By one that I'll procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay And follow thee my lord throughout the world. Nurse. (within) Madam! Jul. I come, anon. - But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee- Nurse. (within) Madam! Jul. By-and-by I come. - To cease thy suit and leave me to my grief. To-morrow will I send.

Rom. So thrive my soul- Jul. A thousand times good night! Exit. Rom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light! Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, towards school with heavy looks. Enter Juliet again, [above]. Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! O for a falconer's voice To lure this tassel-gentle back again! Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine With repetition of my Romeo's name. Romeo! Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears! Jul. Romeo! Rom. My dear? Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow Shall I send to thee? Rom. By the hour of nine. Jul. I will not fail. 'Tis twenty years till then. I have forgot why I did call thee back. Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. Jul. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, Rememb'ring how I love thy company. Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this. Jul. 'Tis almost morning. I would have thee gone- And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, That lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty. Rom. I would I were thy bird. Jul. Sweet, so would I. Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow. [Exit. ] Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, His help to crave and my dear hap to tell. ExitScene III. Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar, [Laurence] alone, with a basket. Friar. The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night, Check'ring the Eastern clouds with streaks of light; And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels. Non, ere the sun advance his burning eye The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry, I must up-fill this osier cage of ours With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers. The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb. What is her burying gave, that is her womb; And from her womb children of divers kind We sucking on her natural bosom find; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for some, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies In plants, herbs, stones, and their true qualities; For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give; Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime's by action dignified. Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence, and medicine power; For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part; Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. Two such opposed kings encamp them still In man as well as herbs- grace and rude will; And where the worser is predominant, Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. Enter Romeo. Rom. Good morrow, father. Friar. Benedicite! What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distempered head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed. Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges sleep will never lie; But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign. Therefore thy earliness doth me assure Thou art uprous'd with some distemp'rature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right- Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. Rom. That last is true-the sweeter rest was mine. Friar. God pardon sin! Wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father? No. I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. Friar. That's my good son! But where hast thou been then? Rom. I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again. I have been feasting with mine enemy, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me That's by me wounded. Both our remedies Within thy help and holy physic lies. I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo, My intercession likewise steads my foe. Friar. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. Rom. Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set On the fair daughter of rich Capulet; As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine, And all combin'd, save what thou must combine By holy marriage. When, and where, and how We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray, That thou consent to marry us to-day. Friar. Holy Saint Francis! What a change is here! Is Rosaline, that thou didst love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes. Jesu Maria! What a deal of brine Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! How much salt water thrown away in waste, To season love, that of it doth not taste! The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears, Thy old groans ring yet in mine ancient ears. Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet. If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline. And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then: Women may fall when there's no strength in men. Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. Friar. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. Rom. And bad'st me bury love. Friar. Not in a grave To lay one in, another out to have. Rom. I pray thee chide not. She whom I love now Doth grace for grace and love for love allow. The other did not so. Friar. O, she knew well Thy love did read by rote, that could not spell. But come, young waverer, come go with me. In one respect I'll thy assistant be; For this alliance may so happy prove To turn your households' rancour to pure love. Rom. O, let us hence! I stand on sudden haste. Friar. Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast. Exeunt. Scene IV. A street. Enter Benvolio and Mercutio. Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo be? Came he not home to-night? Ben. Not to his father's. I spoke with his man. Mer. Why, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Rosaline, Torments him so that he will sure run mad. Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, Hath sent a letter to his father's house. Mer. A challenge, on my life. Ben. Romeo will answer it. Mer. Any man that can write may answer a letter. Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he dares, being dared. Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead! stabb'd with a white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a love song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt-shaft; and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? Mer. More than Prince of Cats, I can tell you. O, he's the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as you sing pricksong-keeps time, distance, and proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and the third in your bosom! the very butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist! a gentleman of the very first house, of the first and second cause. Ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverse! the hay. Ben. The what? Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting fantasticoes- these new tuners of accent! 'By Jesu, a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good whore! ' Why, is not this a lamentable thing, grandsir, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these pardona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their bones, their bones! Enter Romeo. Ben. Here comes Romeo! here comes Romeo! Mer. Without his roe, like a dried herring. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified!

Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in. Laura, to his lady, was but a kitchen wench (marry, she had a better love to berhyme her), Dido a dowdy, Cleopatra a gypsy, Helen and Hero hildings and harlots, This be a gray eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, bon jour! There's a French salutation to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit fairly last night. Rom. Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you? Mer. The slip, sir, the slip. Can you not conceive? Rom. Pardon, good Mercutio. My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy. Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. Rom. Meaning, to cursy. Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. Rom. A most courteous exposition. Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. Rom. Pink for flower. Mer. Right. Rom. Why, then is my pump well-flower'd. Mer. Well said! Follow me this jest now till thou hast worn out thy pump, that, when the single sole of it is worn, the jest may remain, after the wearing, solely singular. Rom. O single-sold jest, solely singular for the singleness! Mer. Come between us, good Benvolio! My wits faint. Rom. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs! or I'll cry a match. Mer. Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase, I am done; for thou hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose? Rom. Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not there for the goose. Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not! Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce. Rom. And is it not, then, well serv'd in to a sweet goose? Mer. O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad! Rom. I stretch it out for that word 'broad,' which, added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose. Mer. Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature. For this drivelling love is like a great natural that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole. Ben. Stop there, stop there! Mer. Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair. Ben. Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large. Mer. O, thou art deceiv'd! I would have made it short; for I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupy the argument no longer. Rom. Here's goodly gear! Enter Nurse and her Man [Peter]. Mer. A sail, a sail! Ben. Two, two! a shirt and a smock. Nurse. Peter! Peter. Anon. Nurse. My fan, Peter. Mer. Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the fairer face of the two. Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen. Mer. God ye good-den, fair gentlewoman. Nurse. Is it good-den? Mer. 'Tis no less, I tell ye; for the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon. Nurse. Out upon you! What a man are you! Rom. One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to mar. Nurse. By my troth, it is well said. 'For himself to mar,' quoth 'a? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I may find the young Romeo? Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older when you have found him than he was when you sought him. I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse. Nurse. You say well. Mer. Yea, is the worst well? Very well took, i' faith! wisely, wisely. Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with you. Ben. She will endite him to some supper. Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! Rom. What hast thou found? Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent He walks by them and sings. An old hare hoar, And an old hare hoar, Is very good meat in Lent; But a hare that is hoar Is too much for a score When it hoars ere it be spent. Romeo, will you come to your father's? We'll to dinner thither. Rom. I will follow you. Mer. Farewell, ancient lady. Farewell, [sings] lady, lady, lady. Exeunt Mercutio, Benvolio. Nurse. Marry, farewell! I Pray you, Sir, what saucy merchant was this that was so full of his ropery? Rom. A gentleman, nurse, that loves to hear himself talk and will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month. Nurse. An 'a speak anything against me, I'll take him down, an'a were lustier than he is, and twenty such jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall. Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure! Peter. I saw no man use you at his pleasure. If I had, my weapon should quickly have been out, I warrant you. I dare draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrel, and the law on my side. Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed that every part about me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word; and, as I told you, my young lady bid me enquire you out. What she bid me say, I will keep to myself; but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross kind of behaviour, as they say; for the gentlewoman is young; and therefore, if you should deal double with her, truly it were an ill thing to be off'red to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing. Rom. Nurse, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I protest unto thee- Nurse. Good heart, and I faith I will tell her as much. Lord, Lord! she will be a joyful woman. Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? Thou dost not mark me. Nurse. I will tell her, sir, that you do protest, which, as I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer. Rom. Bid her devise Some means to come to shrift this afternoon; And there she shall at Friar Laurence' cell Be shriv'd and married. Here is for thy pains. Nurse. No, truly, sir; not a penny. Rom. Go to! I say you shall. Nurse. This afternoon, sir? Well, she shall be there. Rom. And stay, good nurse, behind the abbey wall. Within this hour my man shall be with thee And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair, Which to the high topgallant of my joy Must be my convoy in the secret night. Farewell. Be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains. Farewell.

Commend me to thy mistress. Nurse. Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir. Rom. What say'st thou, my dear nurse? Nurse. Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say, Two may keep counsel, putting one away? Rom. I warrant thee my man's as true as steel. Nurse. Well, sir, my mistress is the sweetest lady. Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing- O, there is a nobleman in town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man; but I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo begin both with a letter? Rom. Ay, nurse; what of that? Both with an R. Nurse. Ah, mocker! that's the dog's name. R is for the- No; I know it begins with some other letter; and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it would do you good to hear it. Rom. Commend me to thy lady. Nurse. Ay, a thousand times. [Exit Romeo. ] Peter! Peter. Anon. Nurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before, and apace. Exeunt. Scene V. Capulet's orchard. Enter Juliet. Jul. The clock struck nine when I did send the nurse; In half an hour she 'promis'd to return. Perchance she cannot meet him. That's not so. O, she is lame! Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. Now is the sun upon the highmost hill Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve Is three long hours; yet she is not come. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball; My words would bandy her to my sweet love, And his to me, But old folks, many feign as they were dead- Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead. Enter Nurse [and Peter]. O God, she comes! O honey nurse, what news? Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away. Nurse. Peter, stay at the gate. [Exit Peter. ] Jul. Now, good sweet nurse- O Lord, why look'st thou sad? Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily; If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news By playing it to me with so sour a face. Nurse. I am aweary, give me leave awhile. Fie, how my bones ache! What a jaunce have I had! Jul. I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news. Nay, come, I pray thee speak. Good, good nurse, speak. Nurse. Jesu, what haste! Can you not stay awhile? Do you not see that I am out of breath? Jul. How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy news good or bad? Answer to that. Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance. Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad? Nurse. Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not how to choose a man. Romeo? No, not he. Though his face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels all men's; and for a hand and a foot, and a body, though they be not to be talk'd on, yet they are past compare. He is not the flower of courtesy, but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy ways, wench; serveGod. What, have you din'd at home? Jul. No, no. But all this did I know before. What says he of our marriage? What of that? Nurse. Lord, how my head aches! What a head have I! It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces. My back o' t' other side,- ah, my back, my back! Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with jauncing up and down! Jul. I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well. Sweet, sweet, Sweet nurse, tell me, what says my love? Nurse. Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome; and, I warrant, a virtuous- Where is your mother? Jul. Where is my mother? Why, she is within. Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest! 'Your love says, like an honest gentleman, "Where is your mother? "' Nurse. O God's Lady dear! Are you so hot? Marry come up, I trow. Is this the poultice for my aching bones? Henceforward do your messages yourself. Jul. Here's such a coil! Come, what says Romeo? Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day? Jul. I have. Nurse. Then hie you hence to Friar Laurence' cell; There stays a husband to make you a wife. Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks: They'll be in scarlet straight at any news. Hie you to church; I must another way, To fetch a ladder, by the which your love Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark. I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; But you shall bear the burthen soon at night. Go; I'll to dinner; hie you to the cell. Jul. Hie to high fortune! Honest nurse, farewell. Exeunt. Scene VI. Friar Laurence's cell. Enter Friar [Laurence] and Romeo. Friar. So smile the heavens upon this holy act That after-hours with sorrow chide us not! Rom. Amen, amen! But come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight. Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare- It is enough I may but call her mine. Friar. These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately: long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. Enter Juliet. Here comes the lady. O, so light a foot Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint. A lover may bestride the gossamer That idles in the wanton summer air, And yet not fall; so light is vanity. Jul. Good even to my ghostly confessor. Friar. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Jul. As much to him, else is his thanks too much. Rom. Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter. Jul. Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament. They are but beggars that can count their worth; But my true love is grown to such excess cannot sum up sum of half my wealth. Friar. Come, come with me, and we will make short work; For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone Till Holy Church incorporate two in one. [Exeunt. ]ACT III. Scene I. A public place. Enter Mercutio, Benvolio, and Men. Ben. I pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire. The day is hot, the Capulets abroad. And if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl, For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring. Mer. Thou art like one of these fellows that, when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says 'God send me no need of thee! ' and by the operation of the second cup draws him on the drawer, when indeed there is no need. Ben. Am I like such a fellow? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a jack in thy mood as any in Italy; and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. Ben. And what to? Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other.

Thou! why, thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more or a hair less in his beard than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes. What eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat; and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrell'd with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter, with another for tying his new shoes with an old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling! Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee simple of my life for an hour and a quarter. Mer. The fee simple? O simple! Enter Tybalt and others. Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets. Mer. By my heel, I care not. Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them. Gentlemen, good den. A word with one of you. Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow. Tyb. You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion. Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo. Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords. Here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall make you dance. Zounds, consort! Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men. Either withdraw unto some private place And reason coldly of your grievances, Or else depart. Here all eyes gaze on us. Mer. Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure, Enter Romeo. Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man. Mer. But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery. Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower! Your worship in that sense may call him man. Tyb. Romeo, the love I bear thee can afford No better term than this: thou art a villain. Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not. Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw. Rom. I do protest I never injur'd thee, But love thee better than thou canst devise Till thou shalt know the reason of my love; And so good Capulet, which name I tender As dearly as mine own, be satisfied. Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. [Draws. ] Tybalt, you ratcatcher, will you walk? Tyb. What wouldst thou have with me? Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives. That I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears ere it be out. Tyb. I am for you. [Draws. ] Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. Mer. Come, sir, your passado! [They fight. ] Rom. Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons. Gentlemen, for shame! forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince expressly hath Forbid this bandying in Verona streets. Hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio! Tybalt under Romeo's arm thrusts Mercutio in, and flies [with his Followers]. Mer. I am hurt. A plague o' both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone and hath nothing? Ben. What, art thou hurt? Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon. [Exit Page. ] Rom. Courage, man. The hurt cannot be much. Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue,a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm. Rom. I thought all for the best. Mer. Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me. I have it, And soundly too. Your houses! [Exit. [supported by Benvolio]. Rom. This gentleman, the Prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got this mortal hurt In my behalf- my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander- Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman. O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soft'ned valour's steel Enter Benvolio. Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds, Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. Rom. This day's black fate on moe days doth depend; This but begins the woe others must end. Enter Tybalt. Ben. Here comes the furious Tybalt back again. Rom. Alive in triumph, and Mercutio slain? Away to heaven respective lenity, And fire-ey'd fury be my conduct now! Now, Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again That late thou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company. Either thou or I, or both, must go with him. Tyb. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence. Rom. This shall determine that. They fight. Tybalt falls. Ben. Romeo, away, be gone! The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain. Stand not amaz'd. The Prince will doom thee death If thou art taken. Hence, be gone, away! Rom. O, I am fortune's fool! Ben. Why dost thou stay? Exit Romeo. Enter Citizens. Citizen. Which way ran he that kill'd Mercutio? Tybalt, that murtherer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt. Citizen. Up, sir, go with me. I charge thee in the Prince's name obey. Enter Prince [attended], Old Montague, Capulet, their Wives, and [others]. Prince. Where are the vile beginners of this fray? Ben. O noble Prince. I can discover all The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl. There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman, brave Mercutio. Cap. Wife. Tybalt, my cousin! O my brother's child! O Prince! O husband! O, the blood is spill'd Of my dear kinsman!