To. Which way is hee in the name of sanctity. If all the diuels of hell be drawne in little, and Legion himselfe possest him, yet Ile speake to him

Fab. Heere he is, heere he is: how ist with you sir? How ist with you man? Mal. Go off, I discard you: let me enioy my priuate: go off

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend speakes within him; did not I tell you? Sir Toby, my Lady prayes you to haue a care of him

Mal. Ah ha, does she so? To. Go too, go too: peace, peace, wee must deale gently with him: Let me alone. How do you Maluolio? How ist with you? What man, defie the diuell: consider, he's an enemy to mankinde

Mal. Do you know what you say? Mar. La you, and you speake ill of the diuell, how he takes it at heart. Pray God he be not bewitch'd

Fab. Carry his water to th' wise woman

Mar. Marry and it shall be done to morrow morning if I liue. My Lady would not loose him for more then ile say

Mal. How now mistris? Mar. Oh Lord

To. Prethee hold thy peace, this is not the way: Doe you not see you moue him? Let me alone with him

Fa. No way but gentlenesse, gently, gently: the Fiend is rough, and will not be roughly vs'd

To. Why how now my bawcock? how dost y chuck? Mal. Sir

To. I biddy, come with me. What man, tis not for grauity to play at cherrie-pit with sathan Hang him foul Colliar

Mar. Get him to say his prayers, good sir Toby gette him to pray

Mal. My prayers Minx

Mar. No I warrant you, he will not heare of godlynesse

Mal. Go hang your selues all: you are ydle shallowe things, I am not of your element, you shall knowe more heereafter.

Exit

To. Ist possible? Fa. If this were plaid vpon a stage now, I could condemne it as an improbable fiction

To. His very genius hath taken the infection of the deuice man

Mar. Nay pursue him now, least the deuice take ayre, and taint

Fa. Why we shall make him mad indeede

Mar. The house will be the quieter

To. Come, wee'l haue him in a darke room & bound. My Neece is already in the beleefe that he's mad: we may carry it thus for our pleasure, and his pennance, til our very pastime tyred out of breath, prompt vs to haue mercy on him: at which time, we wil bring the deuice to the bar and crowne thee for a finder of madmen: but see, but see. Enter Sir Andrew.

Fa. More matter for a May morning

An. Heere's the Challenge, reade it: I warrant there's vinegar and pepper in't

Fab. Ist so sawcy? And. I, ist? I warrant him: do but read

To. Giue me. Youth, whatsoeuer thou art, thou art but a scuruy fellow

Fa. Good, and valiant

To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy minde why I doe call thee so, for I will shew thee no reason for't

Fa. A good note, that keepes you from the blow of y Law To. Thou comst to the Lady Oliuia, and in my sight she vses thee kindly: but thou lyest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for

Fa. Very breefe, and to exceeding good sence-lesse

To. I will way-lay thee going home, where if it be thy chance to kill me

Fa. Good

To. Thou kilst me like a rogue and a villaine

Fa. Still you keepe o'th windie side of the Law: good

Tob. Fartheewell, and God haue mercie vpon one of our soules. He may haue mercie vpon mine, but my hope is better, and so looke to thy selfe. Thy friend as thou vsest him, & thy sworne enemie, Andrew Ague-cheeke

To. If this Letter moue him not, his legges cannot: Ile giu't him

Mar. You may haue verie fit occasion for't: he is now in some commerce with my Ladie, and will by and by depart

To. Go sir Andrew: scout mee for him at the corner of the Orchard like a bum-Baylie: so soone as euer thou seest him, draw, and as thou draw'st, sweare horrible: for it comes to passe oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharpely twang'd off, giues manhoode more approbation, then euer proofe it selfe would haue earn'd him. Away

And. Nay let me alone for swearing.

Exit

To. Now will not I deliuer his Letter: for the behauiour of the yong Gentleman, giues him out to be of good capacity, and breeding: his employment betweene his Lord and my Neece, confirmes no lesse. Therefore, this Letter being so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror in the youth: he will finde it comes from a Clodde-pole. But sir, I will deliuer his Challenge by word of mouth; set vpon Ague-cheeke a notable report of valor, and driue the Gentleman (as I know his youth will aptly receiue it) into a most hideous opinion of his rage, skill, furie, and impetuositie. This will so fright them both, that they wil kill one another by the looke, like Cockatrices. Enter Oliuia and Viola.

Fab. Heere he comes with your Neece, giue them way till he take leaue, and presently after him

To. I wil meditate the while vpon some horrid message for a Challenge

Ol. I haue said too much vnto a hart of stone, And laid mine honour too vnchary on't: There's something in me that reproues my fault: But such a head-strong potent fault it is, That it but mockes reproofe

Vio. With the same hauiour that your passion beares, Goes on my Masters greefes

Ol. Heere, weare this Iewell for me, tis my picture: Refuse it not, it hath no tongue, to vex you: And I beseech you come againe to morrow. What shall you aske of me that Ile deny, That honour (sau'd) may vpon asking giue

Vio. Nothing but this, your true loue for my master

Ol. How with mine honor may I giue him that, Which I haue giuen to you

Vio. I will acquit you

Ol. Well, come againe to morrow: far-thee-well, A Fiend like thee might beare my soule to hell. Enter Toby and Fabian.

To. Gentleman, God saue thee

Vio. And you sir

To. That defence thou hast, betake the too't: of what nature the wrongs are thou hast done him, I knowe not: but thy intercepter full of despight, bloody as the Hunter, attends thee at the Orchard end: dismount thy tucke, be yare in thy preparation, for thy assaylant is quick, skilfull, and deadly

Vio. You mistake sir I am sure, no man hath any quarrell to me: my remembrance is very free and cleere from any image of offence done to any man

To. You'l finde it otherwise I assure you: therefore, if you hold your life at any price, betake you to your gard: for your opposite hath in him what youth, strength, skill, and wrath, can furnish man withall

Vio. I pray you sir what is he? To. He is knight dubb'd with vnhatch'd Rapier, and on carpet consideration, but he is a diuell in priuate brall, soules and bodies hath he diuorc'd three, and his incensement at this moment is so implacable, that satisfaction can be none, but by pangs of death and sepulcher: Hob, nob, is his word: giu't or take't

Vio. I will returne againe into the house, and desire some conduct of the Lady. I am no fighter, I haue heard of some kinde of men, that put quarrells purposely on others, to taste their valour: belike this is a man of that quirke

To. Sir, no: his indignation deriues it selfe out of a very computent iniurie, therefore get you on, and giue him his desire. Backe you shall not to the house, vnlesse you vndertake that with me, which with as much safetie you might answer him: therefore on, or strippe your sword starke naked: for meddle you must that's certain, or forsweare to weare iron about you

Vio. This is as vnciuill as strange. I beseech you doe me this courteous office, as to know of the Knight what my offence to him is: it is something of my negligence, nothing of my purpose

To. I will doe so. Signiour Fabian, stay you by this Gentleman, till my returne.

Exit Toby.

Vio. Pray you sir, do you know of this matter? Fab. I know the knight is incenst against you, euen to a mortall arbitrement, but nothing of the circumstance more

Vio. I beseech you what manner of man is he? Fab. Nothing of that wonderfull promise to read him by his forme, as you are like to finde him in the proofe of his valour. He is indeede sir, the most skilfull, bloudy, & fatall opposite that you could possibly haue found in anie part of Illyria: will you walke towards him, I will make your peace with him, if I can

Vio. I shall bee much bound to you for't: I am one, that had rather go with sir Priest, then sir knight: I care not who knowes so much of my mettle.

Exeunt.

Enter Toby and Andrew.

To. Why man hee s a verie diuell, I haue not seen such a firago: I had a passe with him, rapier, scabberd, and all: and he giues me the stucke in with such a mortall motion that it is ineuitable: and on the answer, he payes you as surely, as your feete hits the ground they step on. They say, he has bin Fencer to the Sophy

And. Pox on't, Ile not meddle with him

To. I but he will not now be pacified, Fabian can scarse hold him yonder

An. Plague on't, and I thought he had beene valiant, and so cunning in Fence, I'de haue seene him damn'd ere I'de haue challeng'd him. Let him let the matter slip, and Ile giue him my horse, gray Capilet

To. Ile make the motion: stand heere, make a good shew on't, this shall end without the perdition of soules, marry Ile ride your horse as well as I ride you. Enter Fabian and Viola.

I haue his horse to take vp the quarrell, I haue perswaded him the youths a diuell

Fa. He is as horribly conceited of him: and pants, & lookes pale, as if a Beare were at his heeles

To. There's no remedie sir, he will fight with you for's oath sake: marrie hee hath better bethought him of his quarrell, and hee findes that now scarse to bee worth talking of: therefore draw for the supportance of his vowe, he protests he will not hurt you

Vio. Pray God defend me: a little thing would make me tell them how much I lacke of a man

Fab. Giue ground if you see him furious

To. Come sir Andrew, there's no remedie, the Gentleman will for his honors sake haue one bowt with you: he cannot by the Duello auoide it: but hee has promised me, as he is a Gentleman and a Soldiour, he will not hurt you. Come on, too't

And. Pray God he keepe his oath. Enter Antonio.

Vio. I do assure you tis against my will

Ant. Put vp your sword: if this yong Gentleman Haue done offence, I take the fault on me: If you offend him, I for him defie you

To. You sir? Why, what are you? Ant. One sir, that for his loue dares yet do more Then you haue heard him brag to you he will

To. Nay, if you be an vndertaker, I am for you. Enter Officers.

Fab. O good sir Toby hold: heere come the Officers

To. Ile be with you anon

Vio. Pray sir, put your sword vp if you please

And. Marry will I sir: and for that I promis'd you Ile be as good as my word. Hee will beare you easily, and raines well

1.Off. This is the man, do thy Office

2.Off. Anthonio, I arrest thee at the suit of Count Orsino An. You do mistake me sir

1.Off. No sir, no iot: I know your fauour well: Though now you haue no sea-cap on your head: Take him away, he knowes I know him well

Ant. I must obey. This comes with seeking you: But there's no remedie, I shall answer it: What will you do: now my necessitie Makes me to aske you for my purse. It greeues mee Much more, for what I cannot do for you, Then what befals my selfe: you stand amaz'd, But be of comfort

2.Off. Come sir away

Ant. I must entreat of you some of that money

Vio. What money sir? For the fayre kindnesse you haue shew'd me heere, And part being prompted by your present trouble, Out of my leane and low ability Ile lend you something: my hauing is not much, Ile make diuision of my present with you: Hold, there's halfe my Coffer

Ant. Will you deny me now, Ist possible that my deserts to you Can lacke perswasion. Do not tempt my misery, Least that it make me so vnsound a man As to vpbraid you with those kindnesses That I haue done for you

Vio. I know of none, Nor know I you by voyce, or any feature: I hate ingratitude more in a man, Then lying, vainnesse, babling drunkennesse, Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption Inhabites our fraile blood

Ant. Oh heauens themselues

2.Off. Come sir, I pray you go

Ant. Let me speake a little. This youth that you see heere, I snatch'd one halfe out of the iawes of death, Releeu'd him with such sanctitie of loue; And to his image, which me thought did promise Most venerable worth, did I deuotion

1.Off. What's that to vs, the time goes by: Away

Ant. But oh, how vilde an idoll proues this God: Thou hast Sebastian done good feature, shame. In Nature, there's no blemish but the minde: None can be call'd deform'd, but the vnkinde. Vertue is beauty, but the beauteous euill Are empty trunkes, ore-flourish'd by the deuill

1.Off. The man growes mad, away with him: Come, come sir

Ant. Leade me on.

Exit

Vio. Me thinkes his words do from such passion flye That he beleeues himselfe, so do not I: Proue true imagination, oh proue true, That I deere brother, be now tane for you

To. Come hither Knight, come hither Fabian: Weel whisper ore a couplet or two of most sage sawes

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian: I my brother know Yet liuing in my glasse: euen such, and so In fauour was my Brother, and he went Still in this fashion, colour, ornament, For him I imitate: Oh if it proue, Tempests are kinde, and salt waues fresh in loue

To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and more a coward then a Hare, his dishonesty appeares, in leauing his frend heere in necessity, and denying him: and for his cowardship aske Fabian

Fab. A Coward, a most deuout Coward, religious in it

And. Slid Ile after him againe, and beate him

To. Do, cuffe him soundly, but neuer draw thy sword And. And I do not

Fab. Come, let's see the euent

To. I dare lay any money, twill be nothing yet.

Exit

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Sebastian and Clowne

Clo. Will you make me beleeue, that I am not sent for you? Seb. Go too, go too, thou art a foolish fellow, Let me be cleere of thee

Clo. Well held out yfaith: No, I do not know you, nor I am not sent to you by my Lady, to bid you come speake with her: nor your name is not Master Cesario, nor this is not my nose neyther: Nothing that is so, is so

Seb. I prethee vent thy folly some-where else, thou know'st not me

Clo. Vent my folly: He has heard that word of some great man, and now applyes it to a foole. Vent my folly: I am affraid this great lubber the World will proue a Cockney: I prethee now vngird thy strangenes, and tell me what I shall vent to my Lady? Shall I vent to hir that thou art comming? Seb. I prethee foolish greeke depart from me, there's money for thee, if you tarry longer, I shall giue worse paiment

Clo. By my troth thou hast an open hand: these Wisemen that giue fooles money, get themselues a good report, after foureteene yeares purchase. Enter Andrew, Toby, and Fabian.

And. Now sir, haue I met you again: ther's for you

Seb. Why there's for thee, and there, and there, Are all the people mad? To. Hold sir, or Ile throw your dagger ore the house Clo. This will I tell my Lady straight, I would not be in some of your coats for two pence

To. Come on sir, hold

An. Nay let him alone, Ile go another way to worke with him: Ile haue an action of Battery against him, if there be any law in Illyria: though I stroke him first, yet it's no matter for that

Seb. Let go thy hand

To. Come sir, I will not let you go. Come my yong souldier put vp your yron: you are well flesh'd: Come on

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst y now? If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy sword

To. What, what? Nay then I must haue an Ounce or two of this malapert blood from you. Enter Oliuia.

Ol. Hold Toby, on thy life I charge thee hold

To. Madam

Ol. Will it be euer thus? Vngracious wretch, Fit for the Mountaines, and the barbarous Caues, Where manners nere were preach'd: out of my sight. Be not offended, deere Cesario: Rudesbey be gone. I prethee gentle friend, Let thy fayre wisedome, not thy passion sway In this vnciuill, and vniust extent Against thy peace. Go with me to my house, And heare thou there how many fruitlesse prankes This Ruffian hath botch'd vp, that thou thereby Mayst smile at this: Thou shalt not choose but goe: Do not denie, beshrew his soule for mee, He started one poore heart of mine, in thee

Seb. What rellish is in this? How runs the streame? Or I am mad, or else this is a dreame: Let fancie still my sense in Lethe steepe, If it be thus to dreame, still let me sleepe

Ol. Nay come I prethee, would thoud'st be rul'd by me Seb. Madam, I will

Ol. O say so, and so be.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Maria and Clowne.

Mar. Nay, I prethee put on this gown, & this beard, make him beleeue thou art sir Topas the Curate, doe it quickly. Ile call sir Toby the whilst

Clo. Well, Ile put it on, and I will dissemble my selfe in't, and I would I were the first that euer dissembled in in such a gowne. I am not tall enough to become the function well, nor leane enough to bee thought a good Studient: but to be said an honest man and a good houskeeper goes as fairely, as to say, a carefull man, & a great scholler. The Competitors enter. Enter Toby.

To. Ioue blesse thee M[aster]. Parson

Clo. Bonos dies sir Toby: for as the old hermit of Prage that neuer saw pen and inke, very wittily sayd to a Neece of King Gorbodacke, that that is, is: so I being M[aster]. Parson, am M[aster]. Parson; for what is that, but that? and is, but is? To. To him sir Topas

Clow. What hoa, I say, Peace in this prison

To. The knaue counterfets well: a good knaue.

Maluolio within.

Mal. Who cals there? Clo. Sir Topas the Curate, who comes to visit Maluolio the Lunaticke

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas goe to my Ladie

Clo. Out hyperbolicall fiend, how vexest thou this man? Talkest thou nothing but of Ladies? Tob. Well said M[aster]. Parson

Mal. Sir Topas, neuer was man thus wronged, good sir Topas do not thinke I am mad: they haue layde mee heere in hideous darknesse

Clo. Fye, thou dishonest sathan: I call thee by the most modest termes, for I am one of those gentle ones, that will vse the diuell himselfe with curtesie: sayst thou that house is darke? Mal. As hell sir Topas

Clo. Why it hath bay Windowes transparant as baricadoes, and the cleere stores toward the South north, are as lustrous as Ebony: and yet complainest thou of obstruction? Mal. I am not mad sir Topas, I say to you this house is darke

Clo. Madman thou errest: I say there is no darknesse but ignorance, in which thou art more puzel'd then the aegyptians in their fogge

Mal. I say this house is as darke as Ignorance, thogh Ignorance were as darke as hell; and I say there was neuer man thus abus'd, I am no more madde then you are, make the triall of it in any constant question

Clo. What is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning Wilde-fowle? Mal. That the soule of our grandam, might happily inhabite a bird

Clo. What thinkst thou of his opinion? Mal. I thinke nobly of the soule, and no way aproue his opinion

Clo. Fare thee well: remaine thou still in darkenesse, thou shalt hold th' opinion of Pythagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits, and feare to kill a Woodcocke, lest thou dispossesse the soule of thy grandam. Fare thee well

Mal. Sir Topas, sir Topas

Tob. My most exquisite sir Topas

Clo. Nay I am for all waters

Mar. Thou mightst haue done this without thy berd and gowne, he sees thee not

To. To him in thine owne voyce, and bring me word how thou findst him: I would we were well ridde of this knauery. If he may bee conueniently deliuer'd, I would he were, for I am now so farre in offence with my Niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety this sport the vppeshot. Come by and by to my Chamber.

Exit

Clo. Hey Robin, iolly Robin, tell me how thy Lady does

Mal. Foole

Clo. My Lady is vnkind, perdie

Mal. Foole

Clo. Alas why is she so? Mal. Foole, I say

Clo. She loues another. Who calles, ha? Mal. Good foole, as euer thou wilt deserue well at my hand, helpe me to a Candle, and pen, inke, and paper: as I am a Gentleman, I will liue to bee thankefull to thee for't

Clo. M[aster]. Maluolio? Mal. I good Foole

Clo. Alas sir, how fell you besides your fiue witts? Mall. Foole, there was neuer man so notoriouslie abus'd: I am as well in my wits (foole) as thou art

Clo. But as well: then you are mad indeede, if you be no better in your wits then a foole

Mal. They haue heere propertied me: keepe mee in darkenesse, send Ministers to me, Asses, and doe all they can to face me out of my wits

Clo. Aduise you what you say: the Minister is heere. Maluolio, Maluolio, thy wittes the heauens restore: endeauour thy selfe to sleepe, and leaue thy vaine bibble babble

Mal. Sir Topas

Clo. Maintaine no words with him good fellow. Who I sir, not I sir. God buy you good sir Topas: Marry Amen. I will sir, I will

Mal. Foole, foole, foole I say

Clo. Alas sir be patient. What say you sir, I am shent for speaking to you

Mal. Good foole, helpe me to some light, and some paper, I tell thee I am as well in my wittes, as any man in Illyria

Clo. Well-a-day, that you were sir

Mal. By this hand I am: good foole, some inke, paper, and light: and conuey what I will set downe to my Lady: it shall aduantage thee more, then euer the bearing of Letter did

Clo. I will help you too't. But tel me true, are you not mad indeed, or do you but counterfeit

Mal. Beleeue me I am not, I tell thee true

Clo. Nay, Ile nere beleeue a madman till I see his brains I will fetch you light, and paper, and inke

Mal. Foole, Ile requite it in the highest degree: I prethee be gone

Clo. I am gone sir, and anon sir, Ile be with you againe: In a trice, like to the old vice, your neede to sustaine. Who with dagger of lath, in his rage and his wrath, cries ah ha, to the diuell: Like a mad lad, paire thy nayles dad, Adieu good man diuell.

Exit

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Sebastian.

This is the ayre, that is the glorious Sunne, This pearle she gaue me, I do feel't, and see't, And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet 'tis not madnesse. Where's Anthonio then, I could not finde him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credite, That he did range the towne to seeke me out, His councell now might do me golden seruice, For though my soule disputes well with my sence, That this may be some error, but no madnesse, Yet doth this accident and flood of Fortune, So farre exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am readie to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that perswades me To any other trust, but that I am mad, Or else the Ladies mad; yet if 'twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take, and giue backe affayres, and their dispatch, With such a smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceiue she do's: there's something in't That is deceiueable. But heere the Lady comes. Enter Oliuia, and Priest.

Ol. Blame not this haste of mine: if you meane well Now go with me, and with this holy man Into the Chantry by: there before him, And vnderneath that consecrated roofe, Plight me the full assurance of your faith, That my most iealious, and too doubtfull soule May liue at peace. He shall conceale it, Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keepe According to my birth, what do you say? Seb. Ile follow this good man, and go with you, And hauing sworne truth, euer will be true

Ol. Then lead the way good father, & heauens so shine, That they may fairely note this acte of mine.

Exeunt.

Finis Actus Quartus.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Clowne and Fabian.

Fab. Now as thou lou'st me, let me see his Letter

Clo. Good M[aster]. Fabian, grant me another request

Fab. Any thing

Clo. Do not desire to see this Letter

Fab. This is to giue a dogge, and in recompence desire my dogge againe. Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, and Lords.

Duke. Belong you to the Lady Oliuia, friends? Clo. I sir, we are some of her trappings

Duke. I know thee well: how doest thou my good Fellow? Clo. Truely sir, the better for my foes, and the worse for my friends

Du. Iust the contrary: the better for thy friends

Clo. No sir, the worse

Du. How can that be? Clo. Marry sir, they praise me, and make an asse of me, now my foes tell me plainly, I am an Asse: so that by my foes sir, I profit in the knowledge of my selfe, and by my friends I am abused: so that conclusions to be as kisses, if your foure negatiues make your two affirmatiues, why then the worse for my friends, and the better for my foes

Du. Why this is excellent

Clo. By my troth sir, no: though it please you to be one of my friends

Du. Thou shalt not be the worse for me, there's gold

Clo. But that it would be double dealing sir, I would you could make it another

Du. O you giue me ill counsell

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket sir, for this once, and let your flesh and blood obey it

Du. Well, I will be so much a sinner to be a double dealer: there's another

Clo. Primo, secundo, tertio, is a good play, and the olde saying is, the third payes for all: the triplex sir, is a good tripping measure, or the belles of S[aint]. Bennet sir, may put you in minde, one, two, three

Du. You can foole no more money out of mee at this throw: if you will let your Lady know I am here to speak with her, and bring her along with you, it may awake my bounty further

Clo. Marry sir, lullaby to your bountie till I come agen. I go sir, but I would not haue you to thinke, that my desire of hauing is the sinne of couetousnesse: but as you say sir, let your bounty take a nappe, I will awake it anon.

Exit

Enter Anthonio and Officers.

Vio. Here comes the man sir, that did rescue mee

Du. That face of his I do remember well, Yet when I saw it last, it was besmear'd As blacke as Vulcan, in the smoake of warre: A bawbling Vessell was he Captaine of, For shallow draught and bulke vnprizable, With which such scathfull grapple did he make, With the most noble bottome of our Fleete, That very enuy, and the tongue of losse Cride fame and honor on him: What's the matter? 1.Offi. Orsino, this is that Anthonio That tooke the Phoenix, and her fraught from Candy, And this is he that did the Tiger boord, When your yong Nephew Titus lost his legge; Heere in the streets, desperate of shame and state, In priuate brabble did we apprehend him

Vio. He did me kindnesse sir, drew on my side, But in conclusion put strange speech vpon me, I know not what 'twas, but distraction

Du. Notable Pyrate, thou salt-water Theefe, What foolish boldnesse brought thee to their mercies, Whom thou in termes so bloudie, and so deere Hast made thine enemies? Ant. Orsino: Noble sir, Be pleas'd that I shake off these names you giue mee: Anthonio neuer yet was Theefe, or Pyrate, Though I confesse, on base and ground enough Orsino's enemie. A witchcraft drew me hither: That most ingratefull boy there by your side, From the rude seas enrag'd and foamy mouth Did I redeeme: a wracke past hope he was: His life I gaue him, and did thereto adde My loue without retention, or restraint, All his in dedication. For his sake, Did I expose my selfe (pure for his loue) Into the danger of this aduerse Towne, Drew to defend him, when he was beset: Where being apprehended, his false cunning (Not meaning to partake with me in danger) Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance, And grew a twentie yeeres remoued thing While one would winke: denide me mine owne purse, Which I had recommended to his vse, Not halfe an houre before

Vio. How can this be? Du. When came he to this Towne? Ant. To day my Lord: and for three months before, No intrim, not a minutes vacancie, Both day and night did we keepe companie. Enter Oliuia and attendants.

Du. Heere comes the Countesse, now heauen walkes on earth: But for thee fellow, fellow thy words are madnesse, Three monthes this youth hath tended vpon mee, But more of that anon. Take him aside

Ol. What would my Lord, but that he may not haue, Wherein Oliuia may seeme seruiceable? Cesario, you do not keepe promise with me

Vio. Madam: Du. Gracious Oliuia

Ol. What do you say Cesario? Good my Lord

Vio. My Lord would speake, my dutie hushes me

Ol. If it be ought to the old tune my Lord, It is as fat and fulsome to mine eare As howling after Musicke

Du. Still so cruell? Ol. Still so constant Lord

Du. What to peruersenesse? you vnciuill Ladie To whose ingrate, and vnauspicious Altars My soule the faithfull'st offrings haue breath'd out That ere deuotion tender'd. What shall I do? Ol. Euen what it please my Lord, that shal becom him Du. Why should I not, (had I the heart to do it) Like to th' Egyptian theefe, at point of death Kill what I loue: (a sauage iealousie, That sometime sauours nobly) but heare me this: Since you to non-regardance cast my faith, And that I partly know the instrument That screwes me from my true place in your fauour: Liue you the Marble-brested Tirant still. But this your Minion, whom I know you loue, And whom, by heauen I sweare, I tender deerely, Him will I teare out of that cruell eye, Where he sits crowned in his masters spight. Come boy with me, my thoughts are ripe in mischiefe: Ile sacrifice the Lambe that I do loue, To spight a Rauens heart within a Doue

Vio. And I most iocund, apt, and willinglie, To do you rest, a thousand deaths would dye

Ol. Where goes Cesario? Vio. After him I loue, More then I loue these eyes, more then my life, More by all mores, then ere I shall loue wife. If I do feigne, you witnesses aboue Punish my life, for tainting of my loue

Ol. Aye me detested, how am I beguil'd? Vio. Who does beguile you? who does do you wrong? Ol. Hast thou forgot thy selfe? Is it so long? Call forth the holy Father

Du. Come, away

Ol. Whether my Lord? Cesario, Husband, stay

Du. Husband? Ol. I Husband. Can he that deny? Du. Her husband, sirrah? Vio. No my Lord, not I

Ol. Alas, it is the basenesse of thy feare, That makes thee strangle thy propriety: Feare not Cesario, take thy fortunes vp, Be that thou know'st thou art, and then thou art As great as that thou fear'st. Enter Priest.

O welcome Father: Father, I charge thee by thy reuerence Heere to vnfold, though lately we intended To keepe in darkenesse, what occasion now Reueales before 'tis ripe: what thou dost know Hath newly past, betweene this youth, and me

Priest. A Contract of eternall bond of loue, Confirm'd by mutuall ioynder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lippes, Strengthned by enterchangement of your rings, And all the Ceremonie of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony: Since when, my watch hath told me, toward my graue I haue trauail'd but two houres

Du. O thou dissembling Cub: what wilt thou be When time hath sow'd a grizzle on thy case? Or will not else thy craft so quickely grow, That thine owne trip shall be thine ouerthrow: Farewell, and take her, but direct thy feete, Where thou, and I (henceforth) may neuer meet

Vio. My Lord, I do protest

Ol. O do not sweare, Hold little faith, though thou hast too much feare. Enter Sir Andrew.

And. For the loue of God a Surgeon, send one presently to sir Toby

Ol. What's the matter? And. H'as broke my head acrosse, and has giuen Sir Toby a bloody Coxcombe too: for the loue of God your helpe, I had rather then forty pound I were at home

Ol. Who has done this sir Andrew? And. The Counts Gentleman, one Cesario: we tooke him for a Coward, but hee's the verie diuell, incardinate

Du. My Gentleman Cesario? And. Odd's lifelings heere he is: you broke my head for nothing, and that that I did, I was set on to do't by sir Toby

Vio. Why do you speake to me, I neuer hurt you: You drew your sword vpon me without cause, But I bespake you faire, and hurt you not. Enter Toby and Clowne.

And. If a bloody coxcombe be a hurt, you haue hurt me: I thinke you set nothing by a bloody Coxecombe. Heere comes sir Toby halting, you shall heare more: but if he had not beene in drinke, hee would haue tickel'd you other gates then he did

Du. How now Gentleman? how ist with you? To. That's all one, has hurt me, and there's th' end on't: Sot, didst see Dicke Surgeon, sot? Clo. O he's drunke sir Toby an houre agone: his eyes were set at eight i'th morning

To. Then he's a Rogue, and a passy measures pauyn: I hate a drunken rogue

Ol. Away with him? Who hath made this hauocke with them? And. Ile helpe you sir Toby, because we'll be drest together

To. Will you helpe an Asse-head, and a coxcombe, & a knaue: a thin fac'd knaue, a gull? Ol. Get him to bed, and let his hurt be look'd too. Enter Sebastian.

Seb. I am sorry Madam I haue hurt your kinsman: But had it beene the brother of my blood, I must haue done no lesse with wit and safety. You throw a strange regard vpon me, and by that I do perceiue it hath offended you: Pardon me (sweet one) euen for the vowes We made each other, but so late ago

Du. One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons, A naturall Perspectiue, that is, and is not

Seb. Anthonio: O my deere Anthonio, How haue the houres rack'd, and tortur'd me, Since I haue lost thee? Ant. Sebastian are you? Seb. Fear'st thou that Anthonio? Ant. How haue you made diuision of your selfe, An apple cleft in two, is not more twin Then these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? Ol. Most wonderfull

Seb. Do I stand there? I neuer had a brother: Nor can there be that Deity in my nature Of heere, and euery where. I had a sister, Whom the blinde waues and surges haue deuour'd: Of charity, what kinne are you to me? What Countreyman? What name? What Parentage? Vio. Of Messaline: Sebastian was my Father, Such a Sebastian was my brother too: So went he suited to his watery tombe: If spirits can assume both forme and suite, You come to fright vs

Seb. A spirit I am indeed, But am in that dimension grossely clad, Which from the wombe I did participate. Were you a woman, as the rest goes euen, I should my teares let fall vpon your cheeke, And say, thrice welcome drowned Viola

Vio. My father had a moale vpon his brow

Seb. And so had mine

Vio. And dide that day when Viola from her birth Had numbred thirteene yeares

Seb. O that record is liuely in my soule, He finished indeed his mortall acte That day that made my sister thirteene yeares

Vio. If nothing lets to make vs happie both, But this my masculine vsurp'd attyre: Do not embrace me, till each circumstance, Of place, time, fortune, do cohere and iumpe That I am Viola, which to confirme, Ile bring you to a Captaine in this Towne, Where lye my maiden weeds: by whose gentle helpe, I was preseru'd to serue this Noble Count: All the occurrence of my fortune since Hath beene betweene this Lady, and this Lord

Seb. So comes it Lady, you haue beene mistooke: But Nature to her bias drew in that. You would haue bin contracted to a Maid, Nor are you therein (by my life) deceiu'd, You are betroth'd both to a maid and man

Du. Be not amaz'd, right noble is his blood: If this be so, as yet the glasse seemes true, I shall haue share in this most happy wracke, Boy, thou hast saide to me a thousand times, Thou neuer should'st loue woman like to me

Vio. And all those sayings, will I ouer sweare, And all those swearings keepe as true in soule, As doth that Orbed Continent, the fire, That seuers day from night

Du. Giue me thy hand, And let me see thee in thy womans weedes

Vio. The Captaine that did bring me first on shore Hath my Maides garments: he vpon some Action Is now in durance, at Maluolio's suite, a Gentleman, and follower of my Ladies

Ol. He shall inlarge him: fetch Maluolio hither, And yet alas, now I remember me, They say poore Gentleman, he's much distract. Enter Clowne with a Letter, and Fabian.

A most extracting frensie of mine owne From my remembrance, clearly banisht his. How does he sirrah? Cl. Truely Madam, he holds Belzebub at the staues end as well as a man in his case may do: has heere writ a letter to you, I should haue giuen't you to day morning. But as a madmans Epistles are no Gospels, so it skilles not much when they are deliuer'd

Ol. Open't, and read it

Clo. Looke then to be well edified, when the Foole deliuers the Madman. By the Lord Madam

Ol. How now, art thou mad? Clo. No Madam, I do but reade madnesse: and your Ladyship will haue it as it ought to bee, you must allow Vox

Ol. Prethee reade i'thy right wits

Clo. So I do Madona: but to reade his right wits, is to reade thus: therefore, perpend my Princesse, and giue eare

Ol. Read it you, sirrah

Fab. Reads. By the Lord Madam, you wrong me, and the world shall know it: Though you haue put mee into darkenesse, and giuen your drunken Cosine rule ouer me, yet haue I the benefit of my senses as well as your Ladieship. I haue your owne letter, that induced mee to the semblance I put on; with the which I doubt not, but to do my selfe much right, or you much shame: thinke of me as you please. I leaue my duty a little vnthought of, and speake out of my iniury. The madly vs'd Maluolio

Ol. Did he write this? Clo. I Madame

Du. This sauours not much of distraction

Ol. See him deliuer'd Fabian, bring him hither: My Lord, so please you, these things further thought on, To thinke me as well a sister, as a wife, One day shall crowne th' alliance on't, so please you, Heere at my house, and at my proper cost

Du. Madam, I am most apt t' embrace your offer: Your Master quits you: and for your seruice done him, So much against the mettle of your sex, So farre beneath your soft and tender breeding, And since you call'd me Master, for so long: Heere is my hand, you shall from this time bee Your Masters Mistris

Ol. A sister, you are she. Enter Maluolio.

Du. Is this the Madman? Ol. I my Lord, this same: How now Maluolio? Mal. Madam, you haue done me wrong, Notorious wrong

Ol. Haue I Maluolio? No

Mal. Lady you haue, pray you peruse that Letter. You must not now denie it is your hand, Write from it if you can, in hand, or phrase, Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention: You can say none of this. Well, grant it then, And tell me in the modestie of honor, Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour, Bad me come smiling, and crosse-garter'd to you, To put on yellow stockings, and to frowne Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people: And acting this in an obedient hope, Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd, Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest, And made the most notorious gecke and gull, That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why? Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing, Though I confesse much like the Charracter: But out of question, tis Marias hand. And now I do bethinke me, it was shee First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling, And in such formes, which heere were presuppos'd Vpon thee in the Letter: prethee be content, This practice hath most shrewdly past vpon thee: But when we know the grounds, and authors of it, Thou shalt be both the Plaintiffe and the Iudge Of thine owne cause

Fab. Good Madam heare me speake, And let no quarrell, nor no braule to come, Taint the condition of this present houre, Which I haue wondred at. In hope it shall not, Most freely I confesse my selfe, and Toby Set this deuice against Maluolio heere, Vpon some stubborne and vncourteous parts We had conceiu'd against him. Maria writ The Letter, at sir Tobyes great importance, In recompence whereof, he hath married her: How with a sportfull malice it was follow'd, May rather plucke on laughter then reuenge, If that the iniuries be iustly weigh'd, That haue on both sides past

Ol. Alas poore Foole, how haue they baffel'd thee? Clo. Why some are borne great, some atchieue greatnesse, and some haue greatnesse throwne vpon them. I was one sir, in this Enterlude, one sir Topas sir, but that's all one: By the Lord Foole, I am not mad: but do you remember, Madam, why laugh you at such a barren rascall, and you smile not he's gag'd: and thus the whirlegigge of time, brings in his reuenges

Mal. Ile be reueng'd on the whole packe of you? Ol. He hath bene most notoriously abus'd

Du. Pursue him, and entreate him to a peace: He hath not told vs of the Captaine yet, When that is knowne, and golden time conuents A solemne Combination shall be made Of our deere soules. Meane time sweet sister, We will not part from hence. Cesario come (For so you shall be while you are a man:) But when in other habites you are seene, Orsino's Mistris, and his fancies Queene.

Exeunt.

Clowne sings . When that I was and a little tine boy, with hey, ho, the winde and the raine: A foolish thing was but a toy, for the raine it raineth euery day. But when I came to mans estate, with hey ho, &c. Gainst Knaues and Theeues men shut their gate, for the raine, &c. But when I came alas to wiue, with hey ho, &c. By swaggering could I neuer thriue, for the raine, &c. But when I came vnto my beds, with hey ho, &c. With tospottes still had drunken heades, for the raine, &c. A great while ago the world begon, hey ho, &c. But that's all one, our Play is done, and wee'l striue to please you euery day.

FINIS. Twelfe Night, Or what you will.

The Winters Tale

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Camillo and Archidamus.

Arch. If you shall chance (Camillo) to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my seruices are now on-foot, you shall see (as I haue said) great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia

Cam. I thinke, this comming Summer, the King of Sicilia meanes to pay Bohemia the Visitation, which hee iustly owes him

Arch. Wherein our Entertainment shall shame vs: we will be iustified in our Loues: for indeed- Cam. 'Beseech you- Arch. Verely I speake it in the freedome of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence- in so rare- I know not what to say- Wee will giue you sleepie Drinkes, that your Sences (vn-intelligent of our insufficience) may, though they cannot prayse vs, as little accuse vs

Cam. You pay a great deale to deare, for what's giuen freely

Arch. 'Beleeue me, I speake as my vnderstanding instructs me, and as mine honestie puts it to vtterance

Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himselfe ouer-kind to Bohemia: They were trayn'd together in their Childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot chuse but braunch now. Since their more mature Dignities, and Royall Necessities, made seperation of their Societie, their Encounters (though not Personall) hath been Royally attornyed with enter-change of Gifts, Letters, louing Embassies, that they haue seem'd to be together, though absent: shooke hands, as ouer a Vast; and embrac'd as it were from the ends of opposed Winds. The Heauens continue their Loues

Arch. I thinke there is not in the World, either Malice or Matter, to alter it. You haue an vnspeakable comfort of your young Prince Mamillius: it is a Gentleman of the greatest Promise, that euer came into my Note

Cam. I very well agree with you, in the hopes of him: it is a gallant Child; one, that (indeed) Physicks the Subiect, makes old hearts fresh: they that went on Crutches ere he was borne, desire yet their life, to see him a Man

Arch. Would they else be content to die? Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse, why they should desire to liue

Arch. If the King had no Sonne, they would desire to liue on Crutches till he had one.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, Polixenes, Camillo.

Pol. Nine Changes of the Watry-Starre hath been The Shepheards Note, since we haue left our Throne Without a Burthen: Time as long againe Would be fill'd vp (my Brother) with our Thanks, And yet we should, for perpetuitie, Goe hence in debt: And therefore, like a Cypher (Yet standing in rich place) I multiply With one we thanke you, many thousands moe, That goe before it

Leo. Stay your Thanks a while, And pay them when you part

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow: I am question'd by my feares, of what may chance, Or breed vpon our absence, that may blow No sneaping Winds at home, to make vs say, This is put forth too truly: besides, I haue stay'd To tyre your Royaltie

Leo. We are tougher (Brother) Then you can put vs to't

Pol. No longer stay

Leo. One Seue' night longer

Pol. Very sooth, to morrow

Leo. Wee'le part the time betweene's then: and in that Ile no gaine-saying

Pol. Presse me not ('beseech you) so: There is no Tongue that moues; none, none i'th' World So soone as yours, could win me: so it should now, Were there necessitie in your request, although 'Twere needfull I deny'd it. My Affaires Doe euen drag me home-ward: which to hinder, Were (in your Loue) a Whip to me; my stay, To you a Charge, and Trouble: to saue both, Farewell (our Brother.) Leo. Tongue-ty'd our Queene? speake you

Her. I had thought (Sir) to haue held my peace, vntill You had drawne Oathes from him, not to stay: you (Sir) Charge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction, The by-gone-day proclaym'd, say this to him, He's beat from his best ward

Leo. Well said, Hermione

Her. To tell, he longs to see his Sonne, were strong: But let him say so then, and let him goe; But let him sweare so, and he shall not stay, Wee'l thwack him hence with Distaffes. Yet of your Royall presence, Ile aduenture The borrow of a Weeke. When at Bohemia You take my Lord, Ile giue him my Commission, To let him there a Moneth, behind the Gest Prefix'd for's parting: yet (good-deed) Leontes, I loue thee not a Iarre o'th' Clock, behind What Lady she her Lord. You'le stay? Pol. No, Madame

Her. Nay, but you will? Pol. I may not verely

Her. Verely? You put me off with limber Vowes: but I, Though you would seek t' vnsphere the Stars with Oaths, Should yet say, Sir, no going: Verely You shall not goe; a Ladyes Verely 'is As potent as a Lords. Will you goe yet? Force me to keepe you as a Prisoner, Not like a Guest: so you shall pay your Fees When you depart, and saue your Thanks. How say you? My Prisoner? or my Guest? by your dread Verely, One of them you shall be

Pol. Your Guest then, Madame: To be your Prisoner, should import offending; Which is for me, lesse easie to commit, Then you to punish

Her. Not your Gaoler then, But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes: You were pretty Lordings then? Pol. We were (faire Queene) Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to morrow, as to day, And to be Boy eternall

Her. Was not my Lord The veryer Wag o'th' two? Pol. We were as twyn'd Lambs, that did frisk i'th' Sun, And bleat the one at th' other: what we chang'd, Was Innocence, for Innocence: we knew not The Doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did: Had we pursu'd that life, And our weake Spirits ne're been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should haue answer'd Heauen Boldly, not guilty; the Imposition clear'd, Hereditarie ours

Her. By this we gather You haue tript since

Pol. O my most sacred Lady, Temptations haue since then been borne to's: for In those vnfledg'd dayes, was my Wife a Girle; Your precious selfe had then not cross'd the eyes Of my young Play-fellow

Her. Grace to boot: Of this make no conclusion, least you say Your Queene and I are Deuils: yet goe on, Th' offences we haue made you doe, wee'le answere, If you first sinn'd with vs: and that with vs You did continue fault; and that you slipt not With any, but with vs

Leo. Is he woon yet? Her. Hee'le stay (my Lord.) Leo. At my request, he would not: Hermione (my dearest) thou neuer spoak'st To better purpose

Her. Neuer? Leo. Neuer, but once

Her. What? haue I twice said well? when was't before? I prethee tell me: cram's with prayse, and make's As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tonguelesse, Slaughters a thousand, wayting vpon that. Our prayses are our Wages. You may ride's With one soft Kisse a thousand Furlongs, ere With Spur we heat an Acre. But to th' Goale: My last good deed, was to entreat his stay. What was my first? it ha's an elder Sister, Or I mistake you: O, would her Name were Grace. But once before I spoke to th' purpose? when? Nay, let me haue't: I long

Leo. Why, that was when Three crabbed Moneths had sowr'd themselues to death, Ere I could make thee open thy white Hand: A clap thy selfe, my Loue; then didst thou vtter, I am yours for euer

Her. 'Tis Grace indeed. Why lo-you now; I haue spoke to th' purpose twice: The one, for euer earn'd a Royall Husband; Th' other, for some while a Friend

Leo. Too hot, too hot: To mingle friendship farre, is mingling bloods. I haue Tremor Cordis on me: my heart daunces, But not for ioy; not ioy. This Entertainment May a free face put on: deriue a Libertie From Heartinesse, from Bountie, fertile Bosome, And well become the Agent: 't may; I graunt: But to be padling Palmes, and pinching Fingers, As now they are, and making practis'd Smiles As in a Looking-Glasse; and then to sigh, as 'twere The Mort o'th' Deere: oh, that is entertainment My Bosome likes not, nor my Browes. Mamillius, Art thou my Boy? Mam. I, my good Lord

Leo. I'fecks: Why that's my Bawcock: what? has't smutch'd thy Nose? They say it is a Coppy out of mine. Come Captaine, We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, Captaine: And yet the Steere, the Heycfer, and the Calfe, Are all call'd Neat. Still Virginalling Vpon his Palme? How now (you wanton Calfe) Art thou my Calfe? Mam. Yes, if you will (my Lord.) Leo. Thou want'st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue To be full, like me: yet they say we are Almost as like as Egges; Women say so, (That will say any thing.) But were they false As o're-dy'd Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false As Dice are to be wish'd, by one that fixes No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true, To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page) Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine, Most dear'st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may't be Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center. Thou do'st make possible things not so held, Communicat'st with Dreames (how can this be?) With what's vnreall: thou coactiue art, And fellow'st nothing. Then 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-ioyne with something, and thou do'st, (And that beyond Commission) and I find it, (And that to the infection of my Braines, And hardning of my Browes.) Pol. What meanes Sicilia? Her. He something seemes vnsetled

Pol. How? my Lord? Leo. What cheere? how is't with you, best Brother? Her. You look as if you held a Brow of much distraction: Are you mou'd (my Lord?) Leo. No, in good earnest. How sometimes Nature will betray it's folly? It's tendernesse? and make it selfe a Pastime To harder bosomes? Looking on the Lynes Of my Boyes face, me thoughts I did requoyle Twentie three yeeres, and saw my selfe vn-breech'd, In my greene Veluet Coat; my Dagger muzzel'd, Least it should bite it's Master, and so proue (As Ornaments oft do's) too dangerous: How like (me thought) I then was to this Kernell, This Squash, this Gentleman. Mine honest Friend, Will you take Egges for Money? Mam. No (my Lord) Ile fight

Leo. You will: why happy man be's dole. My Brother Are you so fond of your young Prince, as we Doe seeme to be of ours? Pol. If at home (Sir) He's all my Exercise, my Mirth, my Matter; Now my sworne Friend, and then mine Enemy; My Parasite, my Souldier: States-man; all: He makes a Iulyes day, short as December, And with his varying childnesse, cures in me Thoughts, that would thick my blood

Leo. So stands this Squire Offic'd with me: We two will walke (my Lord) And leaue you to your grauer steps. Hermione, How thou lou'st vs, shew in our Brothers welcome; Let what is deare in Sicily, be cheape: Next to thy selfe, and my young Rouer, he's Apparant to my heart

Her. If you would seeke vs, We are yours i'th' Garden: shall's attend you there? Leo. To your owne bents dispose you: you'le be found, Be you beneath the Sky: I am angling now, (Though you perceiue me not how I giue Lyne) Goe too, goe too. How she holds vp the Neb? the Byll to him? And armes her with the boldnesse of a Wife To her allowing Husband. Gone already, Ynch-thick, knee-deepe; ore head and eares a fork'd one. Goe play (Boy) play: thy Mother playes, and I Play too; but so disgrac'd a part, whose issue Will hisse me to my Graue: Contempt and Clamor Will be my Knell. Goe play (Boy) play, there haue been (Or I am much deceiu'd) Cuckolds ere now, And many a man there is (euen at this present, Now, while I speake this) holds his Wife by th' Arme, That little thinkes she ha's been sluyc'd in's absence, And his Pond fish'd by his next Neighbor (by Sir Smile, his Neighbor:) nay, there's comfort in't, Whiles other men haue Gates, and those Gates open'd (As mine) against their will. Should all despaire That haue reuolted Wiues, the tenth of Mankind Would hang themselues. Physick for't, there's none: It is a bawdy Planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powrefull: thinke it: From East, West, North, and South, be it concluded, No Barricado for a Belly. Know't, It will let in and out the Enemy, With bag and baggage: many thousand on's Haue the Disease, and feele't not. How now Boy? Mam. I am like you say

Leo. Why, that's some comfort. What? Camillo there? Cam. I, my good Lord

Leo. Goe play (Mamillius) thou'rt an honest man: Camillo, this great Sir will yet stay longer

Cam. You had much adoe to make his Anchor hold, When you cast out, it still came home

Leo. Didst note it? Cam. He would not stay at your Petitions, made His Businesse more materiall

Leo. Didst perceiue it? They're here with me already; whisp'ring, rounding: Sicilia is a so-forth: 'tis farre gone, When I shall gust it last. How cam't (Camillo) That he did stay? Cam. At the good Queenes entreatie

Leo. At the Queenes be't: Good should be pertinent, But so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any vnderstanding Pate but thine? For thy Conceit is soaking, will draw in More then the common Blocks. Not noted, is't, But of the finer Natures? by some Seueralls Of Head-peece extraordinarie? Lower Messes Perchance are to this Businesse purblind? say

Cam. Businesse, my Lord? I thinke most vnderstand Bohemia stayes here longer

Leo. Ha? Cam. Stayes here longer

Leo. I, but why? Cam. To satisfie your Highnesse, and the Entreaties Of our most gracious Mistresse

Leo. Satisfie? Th' entreaties of your Mistresse? Satisfie? Let that suffice. I haue trusted thee (Camillo) With all the neerest things to my heart, as well My Chamber-Councels, wherein (Priest-like) thou Hast cleans'd my Bosome: I, from thee departed Thy Penitent reform'd: but we haue been Deceiu'd in thy Integritie, deceiu'd In that which seemes so

Cam. Be it forbid (my Lord.) Leo. To bide vpon't: thou art not honest: or If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a Coward, Which hoxes honestie behind, restrayning From Course requir'd: or else thou must be counted A Seruant, grafted in my serious Trust, And therein negligent: or else a Foole, That seest a Game play'd home, the rich Stake drawne, And tak'st it all for ieast

Cam. My gracious Lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearefull, In euery one of these, no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, feare, Among the infinite doings of the World, Sometime puts forth in your affaires (my Lord.) If euer I were wilfull-negligent, It was my folly: if industriously I play'd the Foole, it was my negligence, Not weighing well the end: if euer fearefull To doe a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a feare Which oft infects the wisest: these (my Lord) Are such allow'd Infirmities, that honestie Is neuer free of. But beseech your Grace Be plainer with me, let me know my Trespas By it's owne visage; if I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine

Leo. Ha' not you seene Camillo? (But that's past doubt: you haue, or your eye-glasse Is thicker then a Cuckolds Horne) or heard? (For to a Vision so apparant, Rumor Cannot be mute) or thought? (for Cogitation Resides not in that man, that do's not thinke) My Wife is slipperie? If thou wilt confesse, Or else be impudently negatiue, To haue nor Eyes, nor Eares, nor Thought, then say My Wife's a Holy-Horse, deserues a Name As ranke as any Flax-Wench, that puts to Before her troth-plight: say't, and iustify't

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to heare My Soueraigne Mistresse clouded so, without My present vengeance taken: 'shrew my heart, You neuer spoke what did become you lesse Then this; which to reiterate, were sin As deepe as that, though true

Leo. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning Cheeke to Cheeke? is meating Noses? Kissing with in-side Lip? stopping the Cariere Of Laughter, with a sigh? (a Note infallible Of breaking Honestie) horsing foot on foot? Skulking in corners? wishing Clocks more swift? Houres, Minutes? Noone, Mid-night? and all Eyes Blind with the Pin and Web, but theirs; theirs onely, That would vnseene be wicked? Is this nothing? Why then the World, and all that's in't, is nothing, The couering Skie is nothing, Bohemia nothing, My Wife is nothing, nor Nothing haue these Nothings, If this be nothing

Cam. Good my Lord, be cur'd Of this diseas'd Opinion, and betimes, For 'tis most dangerous

Leo. Say it be, 'tis true

Cam. No, no, my Lord

Leo. It is: you lye, you lye: I say thou lyest Camillo, and I hate thee, Pronounce thee a grosse Lowt, a mindlesse Slaue, Or else a houering Temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and euill, Inclining to them both: were my Wiues Liuer Infected (as her life) she would not liue The running of one Glasse

Cam. Who do's infect her? Leo. Why he that weares her like her Medull, hanging About his neck (Bohemia) who, if I Had Seruants true about me, that bare eyes To see alike mine Honor, as their Profits, (Their owne particular Thrifts) they would doe that Which should vndoe more doing: I, and thou His Cup-bearer, whom I from meaner forme Haue Bench'd, and rear'd to Worship, who may'st see Plainely, as Heauen sees Earth, and Earth sees Heauen, How I am gall'd, might'st be-spice a Cup, To giue mine Enemy a lasting Winke: Which Draught to me, were cordiall

Cam. Sir (my Lord) I could doe this, and that with no rash Potion, But with a lingring Dram, that should not worke Maliciously, like Poyson: But I cannot Beleeue this Crack to be in my dread Mistresse (So soueraignely being Honorable.) I haue lou'd thee, Leo. Make that thy question, and goe rot: Do'st thinke I am so muddy, so vnsetled, To appoint my selfe in this vexation? Sully the puritie and whitenesse of my Sheetes (Which to preserue, is Sleepe; which being spotted, Is Goades, Thornes, Nettles, Tayles of Waspes) Giue scandall to the blood o'th' Prince, my Sonne, (Who I doe thinke is mine, and loue as mine) Without ripe mouing to't? Would I doe this? Could man so blench? Cam. I must beleeue you (Sir) I doe, and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Prouided, that when hee's remou'd, your Highnesse Will take againe your Queene, as yours at first, Euen for your Sonnes sake, and thereby for sealing The Iniurie of Tongues, in Courts and Kingdomes Knowne, and ally'd to yours

Leo. Thou do'st aduise me, Euen so as I mine owne course haue set downe: Ile giue no blemish to her Honor, none

Cam. My Lord, Goe then; and with a countenance as cleare As Friendship weares at Feasts, keepe with Bohemia, And with your Queene: I am his Cup-bearer, If from me he haue wholesome Beueridge, Account me not your Seruant

Leo. This is all: Do't, and thou hast the one halfe of my heart; Do't not, thou splitt'st thine owne

Cam. Ile do't, my Lord

Leo. I wil seeme friendly, as thou hast aduis'd me.

Exit

Cam. O miserable Lady. But for me, What case stand I in? I must be the poysoner Of good Polixenes, and my ground to do't, Is the obedience to a Master; one, Who in Rebellion with himselfe, will haue All that are his, so too. To doe this deed, Promotion followes: If I could find example Of thousand's that had struck anoynted Kings, And flourish'd after, Il'd not do't: But since Nor Brasse, nor Stone, nor Parchment beares not one, Let Villanie it selfe forswear't. I must Forsake the Court: to do't, or no, is certaine To me a breake-neck. Happy Starre raigne now, Here comes Bohemia. Enter Polixenes.

Pol. This is strange: Me thinkes My fauor here begins to warpe. Not speake? Good day Camillo

Cam. Hayle most Royall Sir

Pol. What is the Newes i'th' Court? Cam. None rare (my Lord.) Pol. The King hath on him such a countenance, As he had lost some Prouince, and a Region Lou'd, as he loues himselfe: euen now I met him With customarie complement, when hee Wafting his eyes to th' contrary, and falling A Lippe of much contempt, speedes from me, and So leaues me, to consider what is breeding, That changes thus his Manners

Cam. I dare not know (my Lord.) Pol. How, dare not? doe not? doe you know, and dare not? Be intelligent to me, 'tis thereabouts: For to your selfe, what you doe know, you must, And cannot say, you dare not. Good Camillo, Your chang'd complexions are to me a Mirror, Which shewes me mine chang'd too: for I must be A partie in this alteration, finding My selfe thus alter'd with't

Cam. There is a sicknesse Which puts some of vs in distemper, but I cannot name the Disease, and it is caught Of you, that yet are well

Pol. How caught of me? Make me not sighted like the Basilisque. I haue look'd on thousands, who haue sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so: Camillo, As you are certainely a Gentleman, thereto Clerke-like experienc'd, which no lesse adornes Our Gentry, then our Parents Noble Names, In whose successe we are gentle: I beseech you, If you know ought which do's behoue my knowledge, Thereof to be inform'd, imprison't not In ignorant concealement

Cam. I may not answere

Pol. A Sicknesse caught of me, and yet I well? I must be answer'd. Do'st thou heare Camillo, I coniure thee, by all the parts of man, Which Honor do's acknowledge, whereof the least Is not this Suit of mine, that thou declare What incidencie thou do'st ghesse of harme Is creeping toward me; how farre off, how neere, Which way to be preuented, if to be: If not, how best to beare it

Cam. Sir, I will tell you, Since I am charg'd in Honor, and by him That I thinke Honorable: therefore marke my counsaile, Which must be eu'n as swiftly followed, as I meane to vtter it; or both your selfe, and me, Cry lost, and so good night

Pol. On, good Camillo

Cam. I am appointed him to murther you

Pol. By whom, Camillo? Cam. By the King

Pol. For what? Cam. He thinkes, nay with all confidence he sweares, As he had seen't, or beene an Instrument To vice you to't, that you haue toucht his Queene Forbiddenly

Pol. Oh then, my best blood turne To an infected Gelly, and my Name Be yoak'd with his, that did betray the Best: Turne then my freshest Reputation to A sauour, that may strike the dullest Nosthrill Where I arriue, and my approch be shun'd, Nay hated too, worse then the great'st Infection That ere was heard, or read

Cam. Sweare his thought ouer By each particular Starre in Heauen, and By all their Influences; you may as well Forbid the Sea for to obey the Moone, As (or by Oath) remoue, or (Counsaile) shake The Fabrick of his Folly, whose foundation Is pyl'd vpon his Faith, and will continue The standing of his Body

Pol. How should this grow? Cam. I know not: but I am sure 'tis safer to Auoid what's growne, then question how 'tis borne. If therefore you dare trust my honestie, That lyes enclosed in this Trunke, which you Shall beare along impawnd, away to Night, Your Followers I will whisper to the Businesse, And will by twoes, and threes, at seuerall Posternes, Cleare them o'th' Citie: For my selfe, Ile put My fortunes to your seruice (which are here By this discouerie lost.) Be not vncertaine, For by the honor of my Parents, I Haue vttred Truth: which if you seeke to proue, I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer, Then one condemnd by the Kings owne mouth: Thereon his Execution sworne

Pol. I doe beleeue thee: I saw his heart in's face. Giue me thy hand, Be Pilot to me, and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My Ships are ready, and My people did expect my hence departure Two dayes agoe. This Iealousie Is for a precious Creature: as shee's rare, Must it be great; and, as his Person's mightie, Must it be violent: and, as he do's conceiue, He is dishonor'd by a man, which euer Profess'd to him: why his Reuenges must In that be made more bitter. Feare ore-shades me: Good Expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious Queene, part of his Theame; but nothing Of his ill-ta'ne suspition. Come Camillo, I will respect thee as a Father, if Thou bear'st my life off, hence: Let vs auoid

Cam. It is in mine authoritie to command The Keyes of all the Posternes: Please your Highnesse To take the vrgent houre. Come Sir, away.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hermione, Mamillius, Ladies: Leontes, Antigonus, Lords.

Her. Take the Boy to you: he so troubles me, 'Tis past enduring

Lady. Come (my gracious Lord) Shall I be your play-fellow? Mam. No, Ile none of you

Lady. Why (my sweet Lord?) Mam. You'le kisse me hard, and speake to me, as if I were a Baby still. I loue you better

2.Lady. And why so (my Lord?) Mam. Not for because Your Browes are blacker (yet black-browes they say Become some Women best, so that there be not Too much haire there, but in a Cemicircle, Or a halfe-Moone, made with a Pen.) 2.Lady. Who taught 'this? Mam. I learn'd it out of Womens faces: pray now, What colour are your eye-browes? Lady. Blew (my Lord.) Mam. Nay, that's a mock: I haue seene a Ladies Nose That ha's beene blew, but not her eye-browes

Lady. Harke ye, The Queene (your Mother) rounds apace: we shall Present our seruices to a fine new Prince One of these dayes, and then youl'd wanton with vs, If we would haue you

2.Lady. She is spread of late Into a goodly Bulke (good time encounter her.) Her. What wisdome stirs amongst you? Come Sir, now I am for you againe: 'Pray you sit by vs, And tell's a Tale

Mam. Merry, or sad, shal't be? Her. As merry as you will

Mam. A sad Tale's best for Winter: I haue one of Sprights, and Goblins

Her. Let's haue that (good Sir.) Come-on, sit downe, come-on, and doe your best, To fright me with your Sprights: you're powrefull at it

Mam. There was a man

Her. Nay, come sit downe: then on

Mam. Dwelt by a Church-yard: I will tell it softly, Yond Crickets shall not heare it

Her. Come on then, and giu't me in mine eare

Leon. Was hee met there? his Traine? Camillo with him? Lord. Behind the tuft of Pines I met them, neuer Saw I men scowre so on their way: I eyed them Euen to their Ships

Leo. How blest am I In my iust Censure? in my true Opinion? Alack, for lesser knowledge, how accurs'd, In being so blest? There may be in the Cup A Spider steep'd, and one may drinke; depart, And yet partake no venome: (for his knowledge Is not infected) but if one present Th' abhor'd Ingredient to his eye, make knowne How he hath drunke, he cracks his gorge, his sides With violent Hefts: I haue drunke, and seene the Spider. Camillo was his helpe in this, his Pandar: There is a Plot against my Life, my Crowne; All's true that is mistrusted: that false Villaine, Whom I employ'd, was pre-employ'd by him: He ha's discouer'd my Designe, and I Remaine a pinch'd Thing; yea, a very Trick For them to play at will: how came the Posternes So easily open? Lord. By his great authority, Which often hath no lesse preuail'd, then so, On your command

Leo. I know't too well. Giue me the Boy, I am glad you did not nurse him: Though he do's beare some signes of me, yet you Haue too much blood in him

Her. What is this? Sport? Leo. Beare the Boy hence, he shall not come about her, Away with him, and let her sport her selfe With that shee's big-with, for 'tis Polixenes Ha's made thee swell thus

Her. But Il'd say he had not; And Ile be sworne you would beleeue my saying, How e're you leane to th' Nay-ward

Leo. You (my Lords) Looke on her, marke her well: be but about To say she is a goodly Lady, and The iustice of your hearts will thereto adde 'Tis pitty shee's not honest: Honorable; Prayse her but for this her without-dore-Forme, (Which on my faith deserues high speech) and straight The Shrug, the Hum, or Ha, (these Petty-brands That Calumnie doth vse; Oh, I am out, That Mercy do's, for Calumnie will seare Vertue it selfe) these Shrugs, these Hum's, and Ha's, When you haue said shee's goodly, come betweene, Ere you can say shee's honest: But be't knowne (From him that ha's most cause to grieue it should be) Shee's an Adultresse

Her. Should a Villaine say so, (The most replenish'd Villaine in the World) He were as much more Villaine: you (my Lord) Doe but mistake

Leo. You haue mistooke (my Lady) Polixenes for Leontes: O thou Thing, (Which Ile not call a Creature of thy place, Least Barbarisme (making me the precedent) Should a like Language vse to all degrees, And mannerly distinguishment leaue out, Betwixt the Prince and Begger:) I haue said Shee's an Adultresse, I haue said with whom: More; shee's a Traytor, and Camillo is A Federarie with her, and one that knowes What she should shame to know her selfe, But with her most vild Principall: that shee's A Bed-swaruer, euen as bad as those That Vulgars giue bold'st Titles; I, and priuy To this their late escape

Her. No (by my life) Priuy to none of this: how will this grieue you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that You thus haue publish'd me? Gentle my Lord, You scarce can right me throughly, then, to say You did mistake

Leo. No: if I mistake In those Foundations which I build vpon, The Centre is not bigge enough to beare A Schoole-Boyes Top. Away with her, to Prison: He who shall speake for her, is a farre-off guiltie, But that he speakes

Her. There's some ill Planet raignes: I must be patient, till the Heauens looke With an aspect more fauorable. Good my Lords, I am not prone to weeping (as our Sex Commonly are) the want of which vaine dew Perchance shall dry your pitties: but I haue That honorable Griefe lodg'd here, which burnes Worse then Teares drowne: 'beseech you all (my Lords) With thoughts so qualified, as your Charities Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so The Kings will be perform'd

Leo. Shall I be heard? Her. Who is't that goes with me? 'beseech your Highnes My Women may be with me, for you see My plight requires it. Doe not weepe (good Fooles) There is no cause: When you shall know your Mistris Ha's deseru'd Prison, then abound in Teares, As I come out; this Action I now goe on, Is for my better grace. Adieu (my Lord) I neuer wish'd to see you sorry, now I trust I shall: my Women come, you haue leaue

Leo. Goe, doe our bidding: hence

Lord. Beseech your Highnesse call the Queene againe

Antig. Be certaine what you do (Sir) least your Iustice Proue violence, in the which three great ones suffer, Your Selfe, your Queene, your Sonne

Lord. For her (my Lord) I dare my life lay downe, and will do't (Sir) Please you t' accept it, that the Queene is spotlesse I'th' eyes of Heauen, and to you (I meane In this, which you accuse her.) Antig. If it proue Shee's otherwise, Ile keepe my Stables where I lodge my Wife, Ile goe in couples with her: Then when I feele, and see her, no farther trust her: For euery ynch of Woman in the World, I, euery dram of Womans flesh is false, If she be

Leo. Hold your peaces

Lord. Good my Lord

Antig. It is for you we speake, not for our selues: You are abus'd, and by some putter on, That will be damn'd for't: would I knew the Villaine, I would Land-damne him: be she honor-flaw'd, I haue three daughters: the eldest is eleuen; The second, and the third, nine: and some fiue: If this proue true, they'l pay for't. By mine Honor Ile gell'd em all: fourteene they shall not see To bring false generations: they are co-heyres, And I had rather glib my selfe, then they Should not produce faire issue

Leo. Cease, no more: You smell this businesse with a sence as cold As is a dead-mans nose: but I do see't, and feel't, As you feele doing thus: and see withall The Instruments that feele

Antig. If it be so, We neede no graue to burie honesty, There's not a graine of it, the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy-earth

Leo. What? lacke I credit? Lord. I had rather you did lacke then I (my Lord) Vpon this ground: and more it would content me To haue her Honor true, then your suspition Be blam'd for't how you might

Leo. Why what neede we Commune with you of this? but rather follow Our forcefull instigation? Our prerogatiue Cals not your Counsailes, but our naturall goodnesse Imparts this: which, if you, or stupified, Or seeming so, in skill, cannot, or will not Rellish a truth, like vs: informe your selues, We neede no more of your aduice: the matter, The losse, the gaine, the ord'ring on't, Is all properly ours

Antig. And I wish (my Liege) You had onely in your silent iudgement tride it, Without more ouerture

Leo. How could that be? Either thou art most ignorant by age, Or thou wer't borne a foole: Camillo's flight Added to their Familiarity (Which was as grosse, as euer touch'd coniecture, That lack'd sight onely, nought for approbation But onely seeing, all other circumstances Made vp to'th deed) doth push-on this proceeding. Yet, for a greater confirmation (For in an Acte of this importance, 'twere Most pitteous to be wilde) I haue dispatch'd in post, To sacred Delphos, to Appollo's Temple, Cleomines and Dion, whom you know Of stuff'd-sufficiency: Now, from the Oracle They will bring all, whose spirituall counsaile had Shall stop, or spurre me. Haue I done well? Lord. Well done (my Lord.) Leo. Though I am satisfide, and neede no more Then what I know, yet shall the Oracle Giue rest to th' mindes of others; such as he Whose ignorant credulitie, will not Come vp to th' truth. So haue we thought it good From our free person, she should be confinde, Least that the treachery of the two, fled hence, Be left her to performe. Come follow vs, We are to speake in publique: for this businesse Will raise vs all

Antig. To laughter, as I take it, If the good truth, were knowne.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Paulina, a Gentleman, Gaoler, Emilia.

Paul. The Keeper of the prison, call to him: Let him haue knowledge who I am. Good Lady, No Court in Europe is too good for thee, What dost thou then in prison? Now good Sir, You know me, do you not? Gao. For a worthy Lady, And one, who much I honour

Pau. Pray you then, Conduct me to the Queene

Gao. I may not (Madam) To the contrary I haue expresse commandment

Pau. Here's ado, to locke vp honesty & honour from Th' accesse of gentle visitors. Is't lawfull pray you To see her Women? Any of them? Emilia? Gao. So please you (Madam) To put a-part these your attendants, I Shall bring Emilia forth

Pau. I pray now call her: With-draw your selues

Gao. And Madam, I must be present at your Conference

Pau. Well: be't so: prethee. Heere's such adoe, to make no staine, a staine, As passes colouring. Deare Gentlewoman, How fares our gracious Lady? Emil. As well as one so great, and so forlorne May hold together: On her frights, and greefes (Which neuer tender Lady hath borne greater) She is, something before her time, deliuer'd

Pau. A boy? Emil. A daughter, and a goodly babe, Lusty, and like to liue: the Queene receiues Much comfort in't: Sayes, my poore prisoner, I am innocent as you, Pau. I dare be sworne: These dangerous, vnsafe Lunes i'th' King, beshrew them: He must be told on't, and he shall: the office Becomes a woman best. Ile take't vpon me, If I proue hony-mouth'd, let my tongue blister. And neuer to my red-look'd Anger bee The Trumpet any more: pray you (Emilia) Commend my best obedience to the Queene, If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'le shew't the King, and vndertake to bee Her Aduocate to th' lowd'st. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o'th' Childe: The silence often of pure innocence Perswades, when speaking failes

Emil. Most worthy Madam, Your honor, and your goodnesse is so euident, That your free vndertaking cannot misse A thriuing yssue: there is no Lady liuing So meete for this great errand; please your Ladiship To visit the next roome, Ile presently Acquaint the Queene of your most noble offer, Who, but to day hammered of this designe, But durst not tempt a minister of honour Least she should be deny'd

Paul. Tell her (Emilia) Ile vse that tongue I haue: If wit flow from't As boldnesse from my bosome, le't not be doubted I shall do good, Emil. Now be you blest for it. Ile to the Queene: please you come something neerer

Gao. Madam, if't please the Queene to send the babe, I know not what I shall incurre, to passe it, Hauing no warrant

Pau. You neede not feare it (sir) This Childe was prisoner to the wombe, and is By Law and processe of great Nature, thence Free'd, and enfranchis'd, not a partie to The anger of the King, nor guilty of (If any be) the trespasse of the Queene

Gao. I do beleeue it

Paul. Do not you feare: vpon mine honor, I Will stand betwixt you, and danger.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Seruants, Paulina, Antigonus, and Lords.

Leo. Nor night, nor day, no rest: It is but weaknesse To beare the matter thus: meere weaknesse, if The cause were not in being: part o'th cause, She, th' Adultresse: for the harlot-King Is quite beyond mine Arme, out of the blanke And leuell of my braine: plot-proofe: but shee, I can hooke to me: say that she were gone, Giuen to the fire, a moity of my rest Might come to me againe. Whose there? Ser. My Lord

Leo. How do's the boy? Ser. He tooke good rest to night: 'tis hop'd His sicknesse is discharg'd

Leo. To see his Noblenesse, Conceyuing the dishonour of his Mother. He straight declin'd, droop'd, tooke it deeply, Fasten'd, and fix'd the shame on't in himselfe: Threw-off his Spirit, his Appetite, his Sleepe, And down-right languish'd. Leaue me solely: goe, See how he fares: Fie, fie, no thought of him, The very thought of my Reuenges that way Recoyle vpon me: in himselfe too mightie, And in his parties, his Alliance; Let him be, Vntill a time may serue. For present vengeance Take it on her: Camillo, and Polixenes Laugh at me: make their pastime at my sorrow: They should not laugh, if I could reach them, nor Shall she, within my powre. Enter Paulina.

Lord. You must not enter

Paul. Nay rather (good my Lords) be second to me: Feare you his tyrannous passion more (alas) Then the Queenes life? A gracious innocent soule, More free, then he is iealous

Antig. That's enough

Ser. Madam; he hath not slept to night, commanded None should come at him

Pau. Not so hot (good Sir) I come to bring him sleepe. 'Tis such as you That creepe like shadowes by him, and do sighe At each his needlesse heauings: such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking. I Do come with words, as medicinall, as true; (Honest, as either;) to purge him of that humor, That presses him from sleepe

Leo. Who noyse there, hoe? Pau. No noyse (my Lord) but needfull conference, About some Gossips for your Highnesse

Leo. How? Away with that audacious Lady. Antigonus, I charg'd thee that she should not come about me, I knew she would

Ant. I told her so (my Lord) On your displeasures perill, and on mine, She should not visit you

Leo. What? canst not rule her? Paul. From all dishonestie he can: in this (Vnlesse he take the course that you haue done) Commit me, for committing honor, trust it, He shall not rule me: Ant. La-you now, you heare, When she will take the raine, I let her run, But shee'l not stumble

Paul. Good my Liege, I come: And I beseech you heare me, who professes My selfe your loyall Seruant, your Physitian, Your most obedient Counsailor: yet that dares Lesse appeare so, in comforting your Euilles, Then such as most seeme yours. I say, I come From your good Queene

Leo. Good Queene? Paul. Good Queene (my Lord) good Queene, I say good Queene, And would by combate, make her good so, were I A man, the worst about you

Leo. Force her hence

Pau. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me: on mine owne accord, Ile off, But first, Ile do my errand. The good Queene (For she is good) hath brought you forth a daughter, Heere 'tis. Commends it to your blessing

Leo. Out: A mankinde Witch? Hence with her, out o' dore: A most intelligencing bawd

Paul. Not so: I am as ignorant in that, as you, In so entit'ling me: and no lesse honest Then you are mad: which is enough, Ile warrant (As this world goes) to passe for honest: Leo. Traitors; Will you not push her out? Giue her the Bastard, Thou dotard, thou art woman-tyr'd: vnroosted By thy dame Partlet heere. Take vp the Bastard, Take't vp, I say: giue't to thy Croane

Paul. For euer Vnvenerable be thy hands, if thou Tak'st vp the Princesse, by that forced basenesse Which he ha's put vpon't

Leo. He dreads his Wife

Paul. So I would you did: then 'twere past all doubt Youl'd call your children, yours

Leo. A nest of Traitors

Ant. I am none, by this good light

Pau. Nor I: nor any But one that's heere: and that's himselfe: for he, The sacred Honor of himselfe, his Queenes, His hopefull Sonnes, his Babes, betrayes to Slander, Whose sting is sharper then the Swords; and will not (For as the case now stands, it is a Curse He cannot be compell'd too't) once remoue The Root of his Opinion, which is rotten, As euer Oake, or Stone was sound

Leo. A Callat Of boundlesse tongue, who late hath beat her Husband, And now bayts me: This Brat is none of mine, It is the Issue of Polixenes. Hence with it, and together with the Dam, Commit them to the fire

Paul. It is yours: And might we lay th' old Prouerb to your charge, So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords) Although the Print be little, the whole Matter And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe, The trick of's Frowne, his Fore-head, nay, the Valley, The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles: The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.) And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all Colours No Yellow in't, least she suspect, as he do's, Her Children, not her Husbands

Leo. A grosse Hagge: And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang'd, That wilt not stay her Tongue

Antig. Hang all the Husbands That cannot doe that Feat, you'le leaue your selfe Hardly one Subiect

Leo. Once more take her hence

Paul. A most vnworthy, and vnnaturall Lord Can doe no more

Leo. Ile ha' thee burnt

Paul. I care not: It is an Heretique that makes the fire, Not she which burnes in't. Ile not call you Tyrant: But this most cruell vsage of your Queene (Not able to produce more accusation Then your owne weake-hindg'd Fancy) something sauors Of Tyrannie, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the World

Leo. On your Allegeance, Out of the Chamber with her. Were I a Tyrant, Where were her life? she durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her

Paul. I pray you doe not push me, Ile be gone. Looke to your Babe (my Lord) 'tis yours: Ioue send her A better guiding Spirit. What needs these hands? You that are thus so tender o're his Follyes, Will neuer doe him good, not one of you. So, so: Farewell, we are gone. Enter.

Leo. Thou (Traytor) hast set on thy Wife to this. My Child? away with't? euen thou, that hast A heart so tender o're it, take it hence, And see it instantly consum'd with fire. Euen thou, and none but thou. Take it vp straight: Within this houre bring me word 'tis done, (And by good testimonie) or Ile seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine: if thou refuse, And wilt encounter with my Wrath, say so; The Bastard-braynes with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Goe, take it to the fire, For thou sett'st on thy Wife

Antig. I did not, Sir: These Lords, my Noble Fellowes, if they please, Can cleare me in't

Lords. We can: my Royall Liege, He is not guiltie of her comming hither

Leo. You're lyers all

Lord. Beseech your Highnesse, giue vs better credit: We haue alwayes truly seru'd you, and beseech' So to esteeme of vs: and on our knees we begge, (As recompence of our deare seruices Past, and to come) that you doe change this purpose, Which being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foule Issue. We all kneele

Leo. I am a Feather for each Wind that blows: Shall I liue on, to see this Bastard kneele, And call me Father? better burne it now, Then curse it then. But be it: let it liue. It shall not neyther. You Sir, come you hither: You that haue beene so tenderly officious With Lady Margerie, your Mid-wife there, To saue this Bastards life; for 'tis a Bastard, So sure as this Beard's gray. What will you aduenture, To saue this Brats life? Antig. Any thing (my Lord) That my abilitie may vndergoe, And Noblenesse impose: at least thus much; Ile pawne the little blood which I haue left, To saue the Innocent: any thing possible

Leo. It shall be possible: Sweare by this Sword Thou wilt performe my bidding

Antig. I will (my Lord.) Leo. Marke, and performe it: seest thou? for the faile Of any point in't, shall not onely be Death to thy selfe, but to thy lewd-tongu'd Wife, (Whom for this time we pardon) We enioyne thee, As thou art Liege-man to vs, that thou carry This female Bastard hence, and that thou beare it To some remote and desart place, quite out Of our Dominions; and that there thou leaue it (Without more mercy) to it owne protection, And fauour of the Climate: as by strange fortune It came to vs, I doe in Iustice charge thee, On thy Soules perill, and thy Bodyes torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place, Where Chance may nurse, or end it: take it vp

Antig. I sweare to doe this: though a present death Had beene more mercifull. Come on (poore Babe) Some powerfull Spirit instruct the Kytes and Rauens To be thy Nurses. Wolues and Beares, they say, (Casting their sauagenesse aside) haue done Like offices of Pitty. Sir, be prosperous In more then this deed do's require; and Blessing Against this Crueltie, fight on thy side (Poore Thing, condemn'd to losse.) Enter.

Leo. No: Ile not reare Anothers Issue. Enter a Seruant.

Seru. Please' your Highnesse, Posts From those you sent to th' Oracle, are come An houre since: Cleomines and Dion, Being well arriu'd from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to th' Court

Lord. So please you (Sir) their speed Hath beene beyond accompt

Leo. Twentie three dayes They haue beene absent: 'tis good speed: fore-tells The great Apollo suddenly will haue The truth of this appeare: Prepare you Lords, Summon a Session, that we may arraigne Our most disloyall Lady: for as she hath Been publikely accus'd, so shall she haue A iust and open Triall. While she liues, My heart will be a burthen to me. Leaue me, And thinke vpon my bidding.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Cleomines and Dion.

Cleo. The Clymat's delicate, the Ayre most sweet, Fertile the Isle, the Temple much surpassing The common prayse it beares

Dion. I shall report, For most it caught me, the Celestiall Habits, (Me thinkes I so should terme them) and the reuerence Of the graue Wearers. O, the Sacrifice, How ceremonious, solemne, and vn-earthly It was i'th' Offring? Cleo. But of all, the burst And the eare-deaff'ning Voyce o'th' Oracle, Kin to Ioues Thunder, so surpriz'd my Sence, That I was nothing

Dio. If th' euent o'th' Iourney Proue as successefull to the Queene (O be't so) As it hath beene to vs, rare, pleasant, speedie, The time is worth the vse on't

Cleo. Great Apollo Turne all to th' best: these Proclamations, So forcing faults vpon Hermione, I little like

Dio. The violent carriage of it Will cleare, or end the Businesse, when the Oracle (Thus by Apollo's great Diuine seal'd vp) Shall the Contents discouer: something rare Euen then will rush to knowledge. Goe: fresh Horses, And gracious be the issue.