« PreviousContinue »
As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are double.
Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?
Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; You are attaint with faults and perjury; Therefore, if you my favour mean to get, A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest, But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? Kath. A wife!-A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say,
At the twelvemonth's end,
Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.
Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love; Impose some service on me for thy love.
Your favours the embassadors of love;
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
Dum. Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest.
Long. So did our looks. Ros. We did not quote? them so. King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, Grant us your loves.
Prin. A time, methinks, too short To make a world-without-end bargain in : No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much, Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this,If for my love (as there is no such cause) You will do aught, this shall you do for me: Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed To some forlorn and naked hermitage, Remote from all the pleasures of the world; There stay until the twelve celestial signs Have brought about their annual reckoning; If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; Full of comparisons and wounding flouts; Which you on all estates will execute, That lie within the mercy of your wit: To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain; And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, (Without the which I am not to be won,) You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day Visit the speechless sick, and still converse With groaning wretches; and your task shall be, With all the fierce endeavour of your wit, To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,3|| Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
Come challenge, challenge me by these deserts,
King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, To flatter up these powers of mine with rest, The sudden hand of death close up mine eye! Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. Prin. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave. [To the King. King. No, madam: we will bring you on your
And then 'twill end.
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
That's too long for a play.
Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me,→→
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take Winter.
King. Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and
This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the one maintain'd by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
Spring. When daisies pied, and violets blue,
Do paint the meadows with delight,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear,
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
(1) Cool. (2) Wild apples.
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,-O word of fear,
When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo.-You, that way; we, this way. [Exeunt.
In this play, which all the editors have concur. thy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are red to censure, and some have rejected as unworsome which ought not to have been exhibited, as many passages mean, childish, and vulgar: and we are told they were, to a maiden queen. But there are scattered through the whole many sparks of genius; nor is there any play that has more evident marks of the hand of Shakspeare.
That such a thing, bechanc'd, would make me sad?
SCENE I-Venice. A street. Enter Antonio, But, tell not me; I know, Antonio
Salarino, and Salanio.
IN sooth, I know not why I am so sad ;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean;
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks?
(1) Ships of large burthen. (2) Lowering.
Is sad to think upon his merchandise.
Ant. Believe me, no: I thank my fortune for it,
Because you are not merry
and 'twere as easy and say, you are merry, Now, by two-headed
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time:
Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. Salan. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman,
Gratiano, and Lorenzo: Fare you well;
If worthier friends had not prevented me.
You grow exceeding strange: Must it be so?
We two will leave you: but, at dinner-time,
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio; You have too much respect upon the world: They lose it, that do buy it with much care. Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world, Gra-
A stage, where every man must play a part,
If they should speak, would almost damn those ears,
I'll tell thee more of this another time:
Lor. Well, we will leave you then till dinner-
I must be one of these same dumb wise men,
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue.
Ant. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this gear. Gra. Thanks, i'faith; for silence is only commendable
In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible. [Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo.
Ant. Is that any thing now?
Ant. Well; tell me now, what lady is this same
Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio,
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd,
Bass. In my school-days, when I had lost one
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight
Ant. You know me well; and herein spend but
To wind about my love with circumstance;
Bass. In Belmont is a lady richly left,
Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are at
Nor have I money, nor commodity
Por. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this great world.
Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are: And, yet, for aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing: It is no mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the mean; superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.
Por. Good sentences, and well pronounced. Ner. They would be better, if well followed. Por. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach
Ant. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it; twenty what were good to be done, than be one of
And, if it stand, as you yourself still do,
(1) Obstinate silence.
the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
may devise laws for the blood; but a hot tempera beast: an the worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I
Pur. I pray thee, over-name them; and as thou namest them, I will describe them; and, according to my description, level at my affection.
Ner. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these lords; they have acquainted me with their determinations: which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you with no more suit; unless you may be won by some other sort than your father's imposition, depending on the caskets.
Por. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will: I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable; for there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence; and I no-pray God grant them a fair departure.
Ner. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. Por. Ay, that's a colt, indeed, for he doth thing but talk of his horse: and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself: I am much afraid, my lady, his mother played false with a smith.
Ner. Then is there the county2 Palatine. Por. He does nothing but frown; as who should say, An if you will not have me, choose: he hears merry tales, and smiles not: I fear, he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be married to a death's head with a bone in his mouth, than to either of these. God defend me from these two!
Ner. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le Bon ?
Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a soldier, that came hither in company of the Marquis of Montferrat?
Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as I think, so was he called.
Ner. True, madam; he, of all the men that ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady.
Por. I remember him well; and I remember him worthy of thy praise.-How now! what news? Enter a Servant.
Serv. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the prince of Morocco; who brings word, the prince, his master, will be here to-night.
Por. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, know it is a sin to be a Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so mocker: But, he! why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's; a better bad habit of frowning good heart as I can bid the other four farewell, I than the count Palatine: he is every man in no should be glad of his approach: if he have the man: if a throstle sing, he falls straight a caper-condition of a saint, and the complexion of a devil, ing; he will fence with his own shadow: if I should marry him, I should marry twenty husbands: If he would despise me, I would forgive him; for if he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. Ner. What say you then to Falconbridge, the young baron of England?
Por. You know, I say nothing to him; for he understands not me, nor I him: he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian; and you will come into the court and swear, that I have a poor penny-worth in the English. He is a proper man's picture; But, alas! who can converse with a dumb show? How oddly he is suited! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour every where. Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour?
Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him; for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again, when he was able: I think the Frenchman became his surety, and sealed under for another.
Ner. How like you the young German, the duke of Saxony's nephew?
I had rather he should shrive me than wive me.
Shy. Three thousand ducats,-well.
Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.
Shy. Antonio shall become bound,-well. Bass. May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I know your answer?
Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound.
Bass. Your answer to that.
Shy. Ho, no, no, no, no ;-my meaning, in say. ing he is a good man, is to have you understand me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supPor. Very vilely in the morning, when he is so-position: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, ber; and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is another to the Indies; I understand moreover upon drunk when he is best, he is a little worse than a the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for man; and when he is worst, he is little better than England,and other ventures he hath, squan(3) Temper, qualities. (2) Count. 2 A
(1) A heady, gay youngster.