Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
FINIS. THE TEMPEST.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue: For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, Which is the hot condition of their bloud, If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound, Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares, You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand, Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But musicke for time doth change his nature, The man that hath no musicke in himselfe, Nor is not moued with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoyles, The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections darke as Erobus, Let no such man be trusted: marke the musicke. Enter Portia and Nerrissa. Por. That light we see is burning in my hall: How farre that little candell throwes his beames, So shines a good deed in a naughty world Ner. When the moone shone we did not see the candle? Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lesse, A substitute shines brightly as a King Vntill a King be by, and then his state Empties it selfe, as doth an inland brooke Into the maine of waters: musique, harke.
An. (Sweet Ladie) you haue giuen me life & liuing; For heere I reade for certaine that my ships Are safelie come to Rode Por. How now Lorenzo? My Clarke hath some good comforts to for you Ner. I, and Ile giue them him without a fee. There doe I giue to you and Iessica From the rich Iewe, a speciall deed of gift After his death, of all he dies possess'd of Loren. Faire Ladies you drop Manna in the way Of starued people Por. It is almost morning, And yet I am sure you are not satisfied Of these euents at full. Let vs goe in, And charge vs there vpon intergatories, And we will answer all things faithfully Gra. Let it be so, the first intergatory That my Nerrissa shall be sworne on, is, Whether till the next night she had rather stay, Or goe to bed, now being two houres to day, But were the day come, I should wish it darke, Till I were couching with the Doctors Clarke. Well, while I liue, Ile feare no other thing So sore, as keeping safe Nerrissas ring. Exeunt. FINIS. The Merchant of Venice. As you Like it Actus primus. Scoena Prima. Enter Orlando and Adam.
Orlando. As I remember Adam, it was vpon this fashion bequeathed me by will, but poore a thousand Crownes, and as thou saist, charged my brother on his blessing to breed mee well: and there begins my sadnesse: My brother Iaques he keepes at schoole, and report speakes goldenly of his profit: for my part, he keepes me rustically at home, or (to speak more properly) staies me heere at home vnkept: for call you that keeping for a gentleman of my birth, that differs not from the stalling of an Oxe? his horses are bred better, for besides that they are faire with their feeding, they are taught their mannage, and to that end Riders deerely hir'd: but I (his brother) gaine nothing vnder him but growth, for the which his Animals on his dunghils are as much bound to him as I: besides this nothing that he so plentifully giues me, the something that nature gaue mee, his countenance seemes to take from me: hee lets mee feede with his Hindes, barres mee the place of a brother, and as much as in him lies, mines my gentility with my education. This is it Adam that grieues me, and the spirit of my Father, which I thinke is within mee, begins to mutinie against this seruitude. I will no longer endure it, though yet I know no wise remedy how to auoid it. Enter Oliuer.
Adam. Sweet Masters bee patient, for your Fathers remembrance, be at accord Oli. Let me goe I say Orl. I will not till I please: you shall heare mee: my father charg'd you in his will to giue me good education: you haue train'd me like a pezant, obscuring and hiding from me all gentleman-like qualities: the spirit of my father growes strong in mee, and I will no longer endure it: therefore allow me such exercises as may become a gentleman, or giue mee the poore allottery my father left me by testament, with that I will goe buy my fortunes Oli. And what wilt thou do? beg when that is spent? Well sir, get you in. I will not long be troubled with you: you shall haue some part of your will, I pray you leaue me Orl. I will no further offend you, then becomes mee for my good Oli. Get you with him, you olde dogge Adam. Is old dogge my reward: most true, I haue lost my teeth in your seruice: God be with my olde master, he would not haue spoke such a word. Ex. Orl. Ad. Oli. Is it euen so, begin you to grow vpon me? I will physicke your ranckenesse, and yet giue no thousand crownes neyther: holla Dennis. Enter Dennis.
Oli. Charles , I thanke thee for thy loue to me, which thou shalt finde I will most kindly requite: I had my selfe notice of my Brothers purpose heerein, and haue by vnder-hand meanes laboured to disswade him from it; but he is resolute. Ile tell thee Charles, it is the stubbornest yong fellow of France, full of ambition, an enuious emulator of euery mans good parts, a secret & villanous contriuer against mee his naturall brother: therefore vse thy discretion, I had as liefe thou didst breake his necke as his finger. And thou wert best looke to't; for if thou dost him any slight disgrace, or if hee doe not mightilie grace himselfe on thee, hee will practise against thee by poyson, entrap thee by some treacherous deuise, and neuer leaue thee till he hath tane thy life by some indirect meanes or other: for I assure thee, (and almost with teares I speake it) there is not one so young, and so villanous this day liuing. I speake but brotherly of him, but should I anathomize him to thee, as hee is, I must blush, and weepe, and thou must looke pale and wonder Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to you: if hee come to morrow, Ile giue him his payment: if euer hee goe alone againe, Ile neuer wrastle for prize more: and so God keepe your worship. Enter.
Ros. Well, I will forget the condition of my estate, to reioyce in yours Cel. You know my Father hath no childe, but I, nor none is like to haue; and truely when he dies, thou shalt be his heire; for what hee hath taken away from thy father perforce, I will render thee againe in affection: by mine honor I will, and when I breake that oath, let mee turne monster: therefore my sweet Rose, my deare Rose, be merry Ros. From henceforth I will Coz, and deuise sports: let me see, what thinke you of falling in Loue? Cel. Marry I prethee doe, to make sport withall: but loue no man in good earnest, nor no further in sport neyther, then with safety of a pure blush, thou maist in honor come off againe Ros. What shall be our sport then? Cel. Let vs sit and mocke the good houswife Fortune from her wheele, that her gifts may henceforth bee bestowed equally Ros. I would wee could doe so: for her benefits are mightily misplaced, and the bountifull blinde woman doth most mistake in her gifts to women Cel. 'Tis true, for those that she makes faire, she scarce makes honest, & those that she makes honest, she makes very illfauouredly Ros. Nay now thou goest from Fortunes office to Natures: Fortune reignes in gifts of the world, not in the lineaments of Nature. Enter Clowne.
Ros. The little strength that I haue, I would it were with you Cel. And mine to eeke out hers Ros. Fare you well: praie heauen I be deceiu'd in you Cel. Your hearts desires be with you Char. Come, where is this yong gallant, that is so desirous to lie with his mother earth? Orl. Readie Sir, but his will hath in it a more modest working Duk. You shall trie but one fall Cha. No, I warrant your Grace you shall not entreat him to a second, that haue so mightilie perswaded him from a first Orl. You meane to mocke me after: you should not haue mockt me before: but come your waies Ros. Now Hercules, be thy speede yong man Cel. I would I were inuisible, to catch the strong fellow by the legge. Wrastle. Ros. Oh excellent yong man Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eie, I can tell who should downe. Shout. Duk. No more, no more Orl. Yes I beseech your Grace, I am not yet well breath'd Duk. How do'st thou Charles? Le Beu. He cannot speake my Lord Duk. Beare him awaie: What is thy name yong man? Orl. Orlando my Liege, the yongest sonne of Sir Roland de Boys Duk. I would thou hadst beene son to some man else, The world esteem'd thy father honourable, But I did finde him still mine enemie: Thou should'st haue better pleas'd me with this deede, Hadst thou descended from another house: But fare thee well, thou art a gallant youth, I would thou had'st told me of another Father.
Exit Duke. Cel. Were I my Father (Coze) would I do this? Orl. I am more proud to be Sir Rolands sonne, His yongest sonne, and would not change that calling To be adopted heire to Fredricke Ros. My Father lou'd Sir Roland as his soule, And all the world was of my Fathers minde, Had I before knowne this yong man his sonne, I should haue giuen him teares vnto entreaties, Ere he should thus haue ventur'd Cel. Gentle Cosen, Let vs goe thanke him, and encourage him: My Fathers rough and enuious disposition Sticks me at heart: Sir, you haue well deseru'd, If you doe keepe your promises in loue; But iustly as you haue exceeded all promise, Your Mistris shall be happie Ros. Gentleman, Weare this for me: one out of suites with fortune That could giue more, but that her hand lacks meanes. Shall we goe Coze? Cel. I: fare you well faire Gentleman Orl. Can I not say, I thanke you? My better parts Are all throwne downe, and that which here stands vp Is but a quintine, a meere liuelesse blocke Ros. He cals vs back: my pride fell with my fortunes, Ile aske him what he would: Did you call Sir? Sir, you haue wrastled well, and ouerthrowne More then your enemies Cel. Will you goe Coze? Ros. Haue with you: fare you well. Enter.
Ros. Were it not better, Because that I am more then common tall, That I did suite me all points like a man, A gallant curtelax vpon my thigh, A bore-speare in my hand, and in my heart Lye there what hidden womans feare there will, Weele haue a swashing and a marshall outside, As manie other mannish cowards haue, That doe outface it with their semblances Cel. What shall I call thee when thou art a man? Ros. Ile haue no worse a name then Ioues owne Page, And therefore looke you call me Ganimed. But what will you be call'd? Cel. Something that hath a reference to my state: No longer Celia, but Aliena Ros. But Cosen, what if we assaid to steale The clownish Foole out of your Fathers Court: Would he not be a comfort to our trauaile? Cel. Heele goe along ore the wide world with me, Leaue me alone to woe him; Let's away And get our Iewels and our wealth together, Deuise the fittest time, and safest way To hide vs from pursuite that will be made After my flight: now goe in we content To libertie, and not to banishment. Exeunt. Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima. Enter Duke Senior: Amyens, and two or three Lords like Forresters.
D.Sen. And did you leaue him in this contemplation? 2.Lord. We did my Lord, weeping and commenting Vpon the sobbing Deere Du.Sen. Show me the place, I loue to cope him in these sullen fits, For then he's full of matter 1.Lor. Ile bring you to him strait. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Duke, with Lords. Duk. Can it be possible that no man saw them? It cannot be, some villaines of my Court Are of consent and sufferance in this 1.Lo. I cannot heare of any that did see her, The Ladies her attendants of her chamber Saw her a bed, and in the morning early, They found the bed vntreasur'd of their Mistris 2.Lor. My Lord, the roynish Clown, at whom so oft, Your Grace was wont to laugh is also missing, Hisperia the Princesse Gentlewoman Confesses that she secretly ore-heard Your daughter and her Cosen much commend The parts and graces of the Wrastler That did but lately foile the synowie Charles, And she beleeues where euer they are gone That youth is surely in their companie Duk. Send to his brother, fetch that gallant hither, If he be absent, bring his Brother to me, Ile make him finde him: do this sodainly; And let not search and inquisition quaile, To bring againe these foolish runawaies. Exeunt. Scena Tertia.
Cel. I pray you beare with me, I cannot goe no further Clo. For my part, I had rather beare with you, then beare you: yet I should beare no crosse if I did beare you, for I thinke you haue no money in your purse Ros. Well, this is the Forrest of Arden Clo. I, now am I in Arden, the more foole I, when I was at home I was in a better place, but Trauellers must be content. Enter Corin and Siluius. Ros. I, be so good Touchstone: Look you, who comes here, a yong man and an old in solemne talke Cor. That is the way to make her scorne you still Sil. Oh Corin, that thou knew'st how I do loue her Cor. I partly guesse: for I haue lou'd ere now Sil. No Corin, being old, thou canst not guesse, Though in thy youth thou wast as true a louer As euer sigh'd vpon a midnight pillow: But if thy loue were euer like to mine, As sure I thinke did neuer man loue so: How many actions most ridiculous, Hast thou beene drawne to by thy fantasie? Cor. Into a thousand that I haue forgotten Sil. Oh thou didst then neuer loue so hartily, If thou remembrest not the slightest folly, That euer loue did make thee run into, Thou hast not lou'd. Or if thou hast not sat as I doe now, Wearing thy hearer in thy Mistris praise, Thou hast not lou'd. Or if thou hast not broke from companie, Abruptly as my passion now makes me, Thou hast not lou'd. O Phebe, Phebe, Phebe. Enter.
Orl. Why how now Adam? No greater heart in thee: Liue a little, comfort a little, cheere thy selfe a little. If this vncouth Forrest yeeld any thing sauage, I wil either be food for it, or bring it for foode to thee: Thy conceite is neerer death, then thy powers. For my sake be comfortable, hold death a while At the armes end: I wil heere be with thee presently, And if I bring thee not something to eate, I wil giue thee leaue to die: but if thou diest Before I come, thou art a mocker of my labor. Wel said, thou look'st cheerely, And Ile be with thee quickly: yet thou liest In the bleake aire. Come, I wil beare thee To some shelter, and thou shalt not die For lacke of a dinner, If there liue any thing in this Desert. Cheerely good Adam. Exeunt. Scena Septima. Enter Duke Sen. & Lord, like Out-lawes. Du.Sen. I thinke he be transform'd into a beast, For I can no where finde him, like a man 1.Lord. My Lord, he is but euen now gone hence, Heere was he merry, hearing of a Song Du.Sen. If he compact of iarres, grow Musicall, We shall haue shortly discord in the Spheares: Go seeke him, tell him I would speake with him. Enter Iaques.
Du.Sen. Fie on thee. I can tell what thou wouldst do Iaq. What, for a Counter, would I do, but good? Du.Sen. Most mischeeuous foule sin, in chiding sin: For thou thy selfe hast bene a Libertine, As sensuall as the brutish sting it selfe, And all th' imbossed sores, and headed euils, That thou with license of free foot hast caught, Would'st thou disgorge into the generall world Iaq. Why who cries out on pride, That can therein taxe any priuate party: Doth it not flow as hugely as the Sea, Till that the wearie verie meanes do ebbe. What woman in the Citie do I name, When that I say the City woman beares The cost of Princes on vnworthy shoulders? Who can come in, and say that I meane her, When such a one as shee, such is her neighbor? Or what is he of basest function, That sayes his brauerie is not on my cost, Thinking that I meane him, but therein suites His folly to the mettle of my speech, There then, how then, what then, let me see wherein My tongue hath wrong'd him: if it do him right, Then he hath wrong'd himselfe: if he be free, Why then my taxing like a wild-goose flies Vnclaim'd of any man. But who come here? Enter Orlando.
Orl. I thanke you most for him Ad. So had you neede, I scarce can speake to thanke you for my selfe Du.Sen. Welcome, fall too: I wil not trouble you, As yet to question you about your fortunes: Giue vs some Musicke, and good Cozen, sing. Song. Blow, blow, thou winter winde, Thou art not so vnkinde, as mans ingratitude Thy tooth is not so keene, because thou art not seene, although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho, sing heigh ho, vnto the greene holly, Most frendship, is fayning; most Louing, meere folly: The heigh ho, the holly, This Life is most iolly. Freize, freize, thou bitter skie that dost not bight so nigh as benefitts forgot: Though thou the waters warpe, thy sting is not so sharpe, as freind remembred not. Heigh ho, sing, &c Duke Sen. If that you were the good Sir Rowlands son, As you haue whisper'd faithfully you were, And as mine eye doth his effigies witnesse, Most truly limn'd, and liuing in your face, Be truly welcome hither: I am the Duke That lou'd your Father, the residue of your fortune, Go to my Caue, and tell mee. Good old man, Thou art right welcome, as thy masters is: Support him by the arme: giue me your hand, And let me all your fortunes vnderstand.
Exeunt. Actus Tertius. Scena Prima. Enter Duke, Lords, & Oliuer. Du. Not see him since? Sir, sir, that cannot be: But were I not the better part made mercie, I should not seeke an absent argument Of my reuenge, thou present: but looke to it, Finde out thy brother wheresoere he is, Seeke him with Candle: bring him dead, or liuing Within this tweluemonth, or turne thou no more To seeke a liuing in our Territorie. Thy Lands and all things that thou dost call thine, Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands, Till thou canst quit thee by thy brothers mouth, Of what we thinke against thee Ol. Oh that your Highnesse knew my heart in this: I neuer lou'd my brother in my life Duke. More villaine thou. Well push him out of dores And let my officers of such a nature Make an extent vpon his house and Lands: Do this expediently, and turne him going. Exeunt. Scena Secunda. Enter Orlando. Orl. Hang there my verse, in witnesse of my loue, And thou thrice crowned Queene of night suruey With thy chaste eye, from thy pale spheare aboue Thy Huntresse name, that my full life doth sway. O Rosalind, these Trees shall be my Bookes, And in their barkes my thoughts Ile charracter, That euerie eye, which in this Forrest lookes, Shall see thy vertue witnest euery where. Run, run Orlando, carue on euery Tree, The faire, the chaste, and vnexpressiue shee.
Iaq. A materiall foole Aud. Well, I am not faire, and therefore I pray the Gods make me honest Clo. Truly, and to cast away honestie vppon a foule slut, were to put good meate into an vncleane dish Aud. I am not a slut, though I thanke the Goddes I am foule Clo. Well, praised be the Gods, for thy foulnesse; sluttishnesse may come heereafter. But be it, as it may bee, I wil marrie thee: and to that end, I haue bin with Sir Oliuer Mar-text, the Vicar of the next village, who hath promis'd to meete me in this place of the Forrest, and to couple vs Iaq. I would faine see this meeting Aud. Wel, the Gods giue vs ioy Clo. Amen. A man may if he were of a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt: for heere wee haue no Temple but the wood, no assembly but horne-beasts. But what though? Courage. As hornes are odious, they are necessarie. It is said, many a man knowes no end of his goods; right: Many a man has good Hornes, and knows no end of them. Well, that is the dowrie of his wife, 'tis none of his owne getting; hornes, euen so poore men alone: No, no, the noblest Deere hath them as huge as the Rascall: Is the single man therefore blessed? No, as a wall'd Towne is more worthier then a village, so is the forehead of a married man, more honourable then the bare brow of a Batcheller: and by how much defence is better then no skill, by so much is a horne more precious then to want. Enter Sir Oliuer Mar-text.
Ros. She Phebes me: marke how the tyrant writes. Read. Art thou god, to Shepherd turn'd? That a maidens heart hath burn'd. Can a woman raile thus? Sil. Call you this railing? Ros. Read. Why, thy godhead laid a part, War'st thou with a womans heart? Did you euer heare such railing? Whiles the eye of man did wooe me, That could do no vengeance to me. Meaning me a beast. If the scorne of your bright eine Haue power to raise such loue in mine, Alacke, in me, what strange effect Would they worke in milde aspect? Whiles you chid me, I did loue, How then might your praiers moue? He that brings this loue to thee, Little knowes this Loue in me: And by him seale vp thy minde, Whether that thy youth and kinde Will the faithfull offer take Of me, and all that I can make, Or else by him my loue denie, And then Ile studie how to die Sil. Call you this chiding? Cel. Alas poore Shepheard Ros. Doe you pitty him? No, he deserues no pitty: wilt thou loue such a woman? what to make thee an instrument, and play false straines vpon thee? not to be endur'd. Well, goe your way to her; (for I see Loue hath made thee a tame snake) and say this to her; That if she loue me, I charge her to loue thee: if she will not, I will neuer haue her, vnlesse thou intreat for her: if you bee a true louer hence, and not a word; for here comes more company.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.