Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
FINIS. THE TEMPEST.
Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris, That with your strange encounter much amasde me: My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa, And bound I am to Padua, there to visite A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene Petr. What is his name? Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne: And now by Law, as well as reuerent age, I may intitle thee my louing Father, The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman, Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not, Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme, Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth; Beside, so qualified, as may beseeme The Spouse of any noble Gentleman: Let me imbrace with old Vincentio, And wander we to see thy honest sonne, Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure, Like pleasant trauailors to breake a Iest Vpon the companie you ouertake? Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof, For our first merriment hath made thee iealous. Exeunt. Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart; Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward, Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward. Enter. Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.
Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come: Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd: Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris, Say I command her come to me. Enter. Hor. I know her answere Pet. What? Hor. She will not Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Enter Katerina. Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me? Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife? Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come, Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands: Away I say, and bring them hither straight Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life, An awfull rule, and right supremicie: And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio; The wager thou hast won, and I will adde Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes, Another dowrie to another daughter, For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more signe of her obedience, Her new built vertue and obedience. Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.
Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow, And dart not scornefull glances from those eies, To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour. It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads, Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds, And in no sence is meete or amiable. A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled, Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie, And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it. Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance. Commits his body To painfull labour, both by sea and land: To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold, Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe, And craues no other tribute at thy hands, But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience; Too little payment for so great a debt. Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince, Euen such a woman oweth to her husband: And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre, And not obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foule contending Rebell, And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?
I am asham'd that women are so simple, To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace: Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway, When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay. Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth, Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions, and our harts, Should well agree with our externall parts? Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes, My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours, My heart as great, my reason haplie more, To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne; But now I see our Launces are but strawes: Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare, That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are. Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote, And place your hands below your husbands foote: In token of which dutie, if he please, My hand is readie, may it do him ease Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee Kate Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward, Pet. Come Kate, wee'le to bed, We three are married, but you two are sped. 'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white, And being a winner, God giue you good night.
Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak His powerfull sound, within an organ weake: And what impossibility would slay In common sence, sence saues another way: Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate: Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all That happines and prime, can happy call: Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate, Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try, That ministers thine owne death if I die Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die, And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee, But if I helpe, what doe you promise me Kin. Make thy demand Hel. But will you make it euen? Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand What husband in thy power I will command: Exempted be from me the arrogance To choose from forth the royall bloud of France, My low and humble name to propagate With any branch or image of thy state: But such a one thy vassall, whom I know Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd, Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd: So make the choice of thy owne time, for I Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye: More should I question thee, and more I must, Though more to know, could not be more to trust: From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest. Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed, As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.
Ros. It shall be so, Ile send her to my house, Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, And wherefore I am fled: Write to the King That which I durst not speake. His present gift Shall furnish me to those Italian fields Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife To the darke house, and the detected wife Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure? Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me. Ile send her straight away: To morrow, Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard A yong man maried, is a man that's mard: Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go, The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so. Exit Enter Helena and Clowne. Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well? Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but yet she is not well Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's not verie well? Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things Hel. What two things? Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence God send her quickly. Enter Parolles.
Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court. Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an old man loues money, with no stomacke Lad. What haue we heere? Clo. In that you haue there. Exit A Letter. I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her, and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne, Bertram. This is not well rash and vnbridled boy, To flye the fauours of so good a King, To plucke his indignation on thy head, By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous For the contempt of Empire. Enter Clowne. Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene two souldiers, and my yong Ladie La. What is the matter Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght he would La. Why should he be kill'd? Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your sonne was run away. Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.
La. Returne you thither Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France, 'Tis bitter La. Finde you that there? Hel. I Madame Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which his heart was not consenting too Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife: There's nothing heere that is too good for him But onely she, and she deserues a Lord That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon, And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him? Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I haue sometime knowne La. Parolles was it not? Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse, My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature With his inducement Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of that, too much, which holds him much to haue La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate you written to beare along Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your worthiest affaires La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies, Will you draw neere? Enter.
Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France. Nothing in France vntill he has no wife: Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France, Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I, That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers, That ride vpon the violent speede of fire, Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord: Who euer shoots at him, I set him there. Who euer charges on his forward brest I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't, And though I kill him not, I am the cause His death was so effected: Better 'twere I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere, That all the miseries which nature owes Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion, Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre, As oft it looses all. I will be gone: My being heere it is, that holds thee hence, Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although The ayre of Paradise did fan the house, And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone, That pittifull rumour may report my flight To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day, For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away. Enter.
Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and trumpets, soldiers, Parrolles. Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence Vpon thy promising fortune Ber. Sir it is A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake, To th' extreme edge of hazard Duke. Then go thou forth, And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme As thy auspicious mistris Ber. This very day Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file, Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue. Exeunt. omnes Enter Countesse & Steward. La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her: Might you not know she would do, as she has done, By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.