King Henry.What sayest thou of kings? Kings are but men,Cool’d by the same wind as their subjects are,And blister’d by the self-same burning sun.O happiest are the common folk who toilAfield by day, eat scanty fare, and sleepAnight unvex’d by cares of state or plotsOf traitorous nobles envious of a crown.
King Henry.What sayest thou of kings? Kings are but men,Cool’d by the same wind as their subjects are,And blister’d by the self-same burning sun.O happiest are the common folk who toilAfield by day, eat scanty fare, and sleepAnight unvex’d by cares of state or plotsOf traitorous nobles envious of a crown.
King Henry.What sayest thou of kings? Kings are but men,
Cool’d by the same wind as their subjects are,
And blister’d by the self-same burning sun.
O happiest are the common folk who toil
Afield by day, eat scanty fare, and sleep
Anight unvex’d by cares of state or plots
Of traitorous nobles envious of a crown.
Fool.What do I say of kings? Marry, I say they were best to watch well their daughters and their kingdoms; it needs no fool to say so much as that. Prithee, art thou a king of the same mould as these thou beholdest here in this place?
King Henry.At scarce nine months was I anointed king.
King Henry.At scarce nine months was I anointed king.
King Henry.At scarce nine months was I anointed king.
Fool.Truly, thou serv’st a tender apprenticeshipto thy business and I marvel the less at thy present having. [ToLear] Good nuncle, here’s yet another king out at the elbows, one, belike, that shook his rattle as ’t were a sceptre, and wore his porringer on ’s head where his crown should have been.
Lear[toKing Henry] And thou, too, wert a king?King Henry.I was, but nowAm I a king no longer. Edward of MarchUsurps my title and my crown. There comeNo suitors unto me, a shadow princeMated with Madge of Anjou, strong where IAm weak, for she loves war, and weak where IAm strong, for I am joined to contentWhich she, poor soul, wots little of.King Richard.O letUs make a compact with this same content;As which shall joy the most in it, that thusThe hours shall fleet unhinder’d o’er our headsAs o’er the shepherd’s gazing on his flockFrom out the hawthorn shade. Or what say you,Were it not fitter pastime to bewailOur loss of crown and kingdom morn by morn,Evening by evening, till at last we diedOf grief?King Henry.Wiser it were to strive to findWhat comfort’s left to us.King Richard.Why, so we will.Come, fool, be thou our numbering clock and tellItem by item all that’s left to usUnhappy kings, brothers in wretchedness.Lear.A plague upon ye both that will not curseThe authors of your woes, that will not vexThe heavens with prayers for their undoing. CurseOn curse I’ll heap upon the heads of thoseShe wolves, my daughters, sprung from out my loins;The kingdom’s ruin and their father’s bane.
Lear[toKing Henry] And thou, too, wert a king?King Henry.I was, but nowAm I a king no longer. Edward of MarchUsurps my title and my crown. There comeNo suitors unto me, a shadow princeMated with Madge of Anjou, strong where IAm weak, for she loves war, and weak where IAm strong, for I am joined to contentWhich she, poor soul, wots little of.King Richard.O letUs make a compact with this same content;As which shall joy the most in it, that thusThe hours shall fleet unhinder’d o’er our headsAs o’er the shepherd’s gazing on his flockFrom out the hawthorn shade. Or what say you,Were it not fitter pastime to bewailOur loss of crown and kingdom morn by morn,Evening by evening, till at last we diedOf grief?King Henry.Wiser it were to strive to findWhat comfort’s left to us.King Richard.Why, so we will.Come, fool, be thou our numbering clock and tellItem by item all that’s left to usUnhappy kings, brothers in wretchedness.Lear.A plague upon ye both that will not curseThe authors of your woes, that will not vexThe heavens with prayers for their undoing. CurseOn curse I’ll heap upon the heads of thoseShe wolves, my daughters, sprung from out my loins;The kingdom’s ruin and their father’s bane.
Lear[toKing Henry] And thou, too, wert a king?
King Henry.I was, but now
Am I a king no longer. Edward of March
Usurps my title and my crown. There come
No suitors unto me, a shadow prince
Mated with Madge of Anjou, strong where I
Am weak, for she loves war, and weak where I
Am strong, for I am joined to content
Which she, poor soul, wots little of.
King Richard.O let
Us make a compact with this same content;
As which shall joy the most in it, that thus
The hours shall fleet unhinder’d o’er our heads
As o’er the shepherd’s gazing on his flock
From out the hawthorn shade. Or what say you,
Were it not fitter pastime to bewail
Our loss of crown and kingdom morn by morn,
Evening by evening, till at last we died
Of grief?
King Henry.Wiser it were to strive to find
What comfort’s left to us.
King Richard.Why, so we will.
Come, fool, be thou our numbering clock and tell
Item by item all that’s left to us
Unhappy kings, brothers in wretchedness.
Lear.A plague upon ye both that will not curse
The authors of your woes, that will not vex
The heavens with prayers for their undoing. Curse
On curse I’ll heap upon the heads of those
She wolves, my daughters, sprung from out my loins;
The kingdom’s ruin and their father’s bane.
[Exit raving.
Fool.Farewell to you both, for I must after him that’s such an eager spendthrift of his curses, and may each of you come upon a kingdom to your mind—when the sun shall smite in January.
[ExitFool.
King Henry.A more than common grief look’d from his eyeThat roll’d so wildly in his head; pray GodWe keep our wits, whatever else be lostTo us.King Richard.And I might see proud BolingbrokeIn such a case as his that parted now,I deem that I could die full willingly.King Henry.Would I were dead, an’ it were God’s good will;But whilst I live I ne’er will còntrive aughtOf evil ’gainst mine enemy, nor wishHim ill, for so weighs woe the heavierOn him invoking. Our good captain ChristDid bid us to the smiter turn the cheekThat’s smitten yet again, nor harm him notFor all the mischiefs he doth put on us.
King Henry.A more than common grief look’d from his eyeThat roll’d so wildly in his head; pray GodWe keep our wits, whatever else be lostTo us.King Richard.And I might see proud BolingbrokeIn such a case as his that parted now,I deem that I could die full willingly.King Henry.Would I were dead, an’ it were God’s good will;But whilst I live I ne’er will còntrive aughtOf evil ’gainst mine enemy, nor wishHim ill, for so weighs woe the heavierOn him invoking. Our good captain ChristDid bid us to the smiter turn the cheekThat’s smitten yet again, nor harm him notFor all the mischiefs he doth put on us.
King Henry.A more than common grief look’d from his eye
That roll’d so wildly in his head; pray God
We keep our wits, whatever else be lost
To us.
King Richard.And I might see proud Bolingbroke
In such a case as his that parted now,
I deem that I could die full willingly.
King Henry.Would I were dead, an’ it were God’s good will;
But whilst I live I ne’er will còntrive aught
Of evil ’gainst mine enemy, nor wish
Him ill, for so weighs woe the heavier
On him invoking. Our good captain Christ
Did bid us to the smiter turn the cheek
That’s smitten yet again, nor harm him not
For all the mischiefs he doth put on us.
[Soft music heard.
King Richard.How softly steals sweet music on the soul,Shutting its doors to misery and pain,Closing the senses ’gainst all foes without,Turning the hard couch unto airy down,Dissolving time in melting harmonies.O I could list forever to its sound,But it, or something stronger, masters me.
King Richard.How softly steals sweet music on the soul,Shutting its doors to misery and pain,Closing the senses ’gainst all foes without,Turning the hard couch unto airy down,Dissolving time in melting harmonies.O I could list forever to its sound,But it, or something stronger, masters me.
King Richard.How softly steals sweet music on the soul,
Shutting its doors to misery and pain,
Closing the senses ’gainst all foes without,
Turning the hard couch unto airy down,
Dissolving time in melting harmonies.
O I could list forever to its sound,
But it, or something stronger, masters me.
[Sleeps.
King Henry.Poor, changeful-hearted man that wast a king,Led captive by each wayward quick caprice,Unhappy fate call’d thee unto a throneAs it did me; our kingdoms suffer’d for’t.Enjoy thy sleep by music underpropt,Till waking show thee as thou wert before,A crownless monarch weeping for thy crown.
King Henry.Poor, changeful-hearted man that wast a king,Led captive by each wayward quick caprice,Unhappy fate call’d thee unto a throneAs it did me; our kingdoms suffer’d for’t.Enjoy thy sleep by music underpropt,Till waking show thee as thou wert before,A crownless monarch weeping for thy crown.
King Henry.Poor, changeful-hearted man that wast a king,
Led captive by each wayward quick caprice,
Unhappy fate call’d thee unto a throne
As it did me; our kingdoms suffer’d for’t.
Enjoy thy sleep by music underpropt,
Till waking show thee as thou wert before,
A crownless monarch weeping for thy crown.
[ExitKing Henry.
Miranda.My heart is full of pity for these kingsWanting their crowns.Ferdinand.Those crowns had still been wornHad they known truly what it is to beA king. O, my Miranda, only suchThat are compos’d of strength and gentlenessIn fair proportion mix’d, should e’er essayThe sceptre. He that may not rule himselfIs of all monarchs least significant.
Miranda.My heart is full of pity for these kingsWanting their crowns.Ferdinand.Those crowns had still been wornHad they known truly what it is to beA king. O, my Miranda, only suchThat are compos’d of strength and gentlenessIn fair proportion mix’d, should e’er essayThe sceptre. He that may not rule himselfIs of all monarchs least significant.
Miranda.My heart is full of pity for these kings
Wanting their crowns.
Ferdinand.Those crowns had still been worn
Had they known truly what it is to be
A king. O, my Miranda, only such
That are compos’d of strength and gentleness
In fair proportion mix’d, should e’er essay
The sceptre. He that may not rule himself
Is of all monarchs least significant.
[Exeunt.
SceneVI.
A glade in another part of the island withFerdinandandMirandaobserved seated at the upper end thereof. Nearer at hand a group of Athenian citizens. EnterBottom,wearing an ass’s head.
Bottom.Masters, you will marvel to beholdme here, but the very truth of the matter is that I did fall asleep, and being asleep I did dream, and as I did lie a-dreaming I was in a manner translated to this place, which methinks is an island, for I did espy much water anear as I was brought hither. But, masters, I do marvel much to look upon you here also.
Francis Flute.Methinks, friend Bottom, you are not the sole wight in Athens esteemed worthy translation.
Robin Starveling.How an’ we be not translated either?
Peter Quince.Robin Starveling speaks well and to the centre of the matter. Know then, good bully Bottom, we are translated as yourself, but methinks you have lost more in the translating than have we; is’t not e’en so, masters all?
All.Right, good Peter Quince.
Bottom.I have lost nothing that should cause you envy, good friends all, and so I assure you. [Brays loudly] What say you then to my voice? Is my voice perished?
Tom Snout.No, Nick Bottom.
Bottom.I thank you, good Tom Snout, and to show you that I am the same Nick Bottom, however my visage may appear altered, for traveldoth greatly age a man, as they say, you shall hear me wake the echoes once again.
[Brays a second time, more loudly.
Quince.Methinks your voice, good Bottom, has lost somewhat of sweetness.
Bottom.That’s all one, good Peter Quince, for the simple truth of the matter is that you have no such delicate ear for fine harmonies as I am endow’d with.
[Strokes his ears.
Quince.It doth seem so on more properer consideration, and I had an ear that were the parallax of yours ’twere pity of my life.
All.Indeed, an’ ’twere but pity of your life, Peter Quince.
Bottom.How say you, masters, shall not we spread ourselves? [All sit down.
Miranda.O Ferdinand, be these all mortal likeOurselves? More surely I did never spySo hideously strange a being suchAs he who hath the ass’s head.Ferdinand.Nor I.Belike he hath incurr’d some wizard’s spiteAnd, all unwitting, wears this semblance tillThe wizard’s anger shall be spent. But see,His fellows play upon his ignoranceAnd of his strange beguilement make their sport.
Miranda.O Ferdinand, be these all mortal likeOurselves? More surely I did never spySo hideously strange a being suchAs he who hath the ass’s head.Ferdinand.Nor I.Belike he hath incurr’d some wizard’s spiteAnd, all unwitting, wears this semblance tillThe wizard’s anger shall be spent. But see,His fellows play upon his ignoranceAnd of his strange beguilement make their sport.
Miranda.O Ferdinand, be these all mortal like
Ourselves? More surely I did never spy
So hideously strange a being such
As he who hath the ass’s head.
Ferdinand.Nor I.
Belike he hath incurr’d some wizard’s spite
And, all unwitting, wears this semblance till
The wizard’s anger shall be spent. But see,
His fellows play upon his ignorance
And of his strange beguilement make their sport.
Bottom.Since it is conceded by all of you that I have lost nothing by translation, doth it not follow, moreover, that I have somewhat gained by that same adventure?
Flute.In good truth you have gained by somewhat, Nick Bottom.
Bottom.I were an ass, indeed, an’ I had not.
Snug.And twice an ass, moreover, should he be that would go about to steal it from you.
Bottom.Methinks that I could munch a savoury salad of thistles with much stomach to’t.
Quince.Your thistles be a thought too biting for my stomach.
Bottom.’Tis but likely. I was ever a choice feeder. But, masters, was there not some matter toward, or have you assembled yourselves but to greet me, and, as ’twere, fittingly?
Quince.You speak quite to the matter, good Bottom. That is indeed the true end of our beginning. To behold your winsome visage in this unwonted place is great joy to us simple mechanicals, yet we be nevertheless bold to proclaim to you that to shave were not amiss to one of your condition. For but bethink you, and you wereto come amongst ladies thus grievously beset with hair would shame us all.
Snug.Mayhap in this strange part of the world ’twould be thought matter for a hanging, and that were, indeed, a most serious business, to my thinking.
Quince.But an’ we talk of ladies and hangings, moreover, hither comes a monstrous little lady, as ’twere on the instant.
EnterTitania,with her train.
Titania.Where stays the gentle mortal I adore,Whose voice unto mine ear makes harmoniesCelestial, and whose amiable faceEnthralls my heart in loving servitude?Peaseblossom.Yonder he bides.Moth.’Mong others of his kind.Cobweb.Alike, yet different.Mustardseed.Chief mortal seen.Titania[espyingBottom] What angel can compare unto my love?Beauty itself, beholding thee, might swoonFor envy, and the eldest sage would yieldHis place to thee on th’ instant. O my love!
Titania.Where stays the gentle mortal I adore,Whose voice unto mine ear makes harmoniesCelestial, and whose amiable faceEnthralls my heart in loving servitude?Peaseblossom.Yonder he bides.Moth.’Mong others of his kind.Cobweb.Alike, yet different.Mustardseed.Chief mortal seen.Titania[espyingBottom] What angel can compare unto my love?Beauty itself, beholding thee, might swoonFor envy, and the eldest sage would yieldHis place to thee on th’ instant. O my love!
Titania.Where stays the gentle mortal I adore,
Whose voice unto mine ear makes harmonies
Celestial, and whose amiable face
Enthralls my heart in loving servitude?
Peaseblossom.Yonder he bides.
Moth.’Mong others of his kind.
Cobweb.Alike, yet different.
Mustardseed.Chief mortal seen.
Titania[espyingBottom] What angel can compare unto my love?
Beauty itself, beholding thee, might swoon
For envy, and the eldest sage would yield
His place to thee on th’ instant. O my love!
[Winds her arms about his neck.
Thou shalt dwell with me ever. OberonTo thee is but a gaping pig, and thouTo him the nonpareil of beauteous youth.
Thou shalt dwell with me ever. OberonTo thee is but a gaping pig, and thouTo him the nonpareil of beauteous youth.
Thou shalt dwell with me ever. Oberon
To thee is but a gaping pig, and thou
To him the nonpareil of beauteous youth.
Bottom.Good mistress atomy, though you show somewhat spare of flesh you are yet of a right comely countenance (and mine eyes do tell me aught without spectacles), and you can speak to the point upon occasion, as the present moment doth signify most auspiciously.
Titania.O I could list unto thy silver tongueTill Time itself wax’d eld and perished.
Titania.O I could list unto thy silver tongueTill Time itself wax’d eld and perished.
Titania.O I could list unto thy silver tongue
Till Time itself wax’d eld and perished.
Bottom.How say you, masters? Hath not mistress atomy a shrewd manner of observation an’ she singles me out from the company of my fellows thus compellingly?
Quince.O bully Bottom, you are, as I take it, the simple wonder of our age.
All.Right, master Quince. Nick Bottom is become a very marvel.
Titania.Fain would I hear thy heavenly note again.Sing, wondrous mortal, while I link mine armsAbout thy peerless form, or garlands twineOf dewy flowers to hang about thy neck,That neck, of all necks most incomparable.
Titania.Fain would I hear thy heavenly note again.Sing, wondrous mortal, while I link mine armsAbout thy peerless form, or garlands twineOf dewy flowers to hang about thy neck,That neck, of all necks most incomparable.
Titania.Fain would I hear thy heavenly note again.
Sing, wondrous mortal, while I link mine arms
About thy peerless form, or garlands twine
Of dewy flowers to hang about thy neck,
That neck, of all necks most incomparable.
Bottom[sings]
Upon the hayCophetuaDid waste the hours in sighing.The beggar maidUnto him said,Good sir, are you a dying?
Upon the hayCophetuaDid waste the hours in sighing.The beggar maidUnto him said,Good sir, are you a dying?
Upon the hay
Cophetua
Did waste the hours in sighing.
The beggar maid
Unto him said,
Good sir, are you a dying?
Titania.That voice would make the nightingale asham’d. [Kisses himNow must thou leave thy fellows in this placeAnd speed along with me unto my court,Where we’ll abide in loving dallianceUntil thy mortal part’s with spirit mix’d.Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!Peaseblossom.Ready.Cobweb.And I.Moth.And I.Mustardseed.And I.All.Your hest,Our queen, is still our duty and delight.Titania.Attend us to the court, and evermoreGive special heed unto this gentleman,Anticipate his ev’ry wish and feedHim with the choicest cates the isle doth yield.
Titania.That voice would make the nightingale asham’d. [Kisses himNow must thou leave thy fellows in this placeAnd speed along with me unto my court,Where we’ll abide in loving dallianceUntil thy mortal part’s with spirit mix’d.Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!Peaseblossom.Ready.Cobweb.And I.Moth.And I.Mustardseed.And I.All.Your hest,Our queen, is still our duty and delight.Titania.Attend us to the court, and evermoreGive special heed unto this gentleman,Anticipate his ev’ry wish and feedHim with the choicest cates the isle doth yield.
Titania.That voice would make the nightingale asham’d. [Kisses him
Now must thou leave thy fellows in this place
And speed along with me unto my court,
Where we’ll abide in loving dalliance
Until thy mortal part’s with spirit mix’d.
Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! and Mustardseed!
Peaseblossom.Ready.
Cobweb.And I.
Moth.And I.
Mustardseed.And I.
All.Your hest,
Our queen, is still our duty and delight.
Titania.Attend us to the court, and evermore
Give special heed unto this gentleman,
Anticipate his ev’ry wish and feed
Him with the choicest cates the isle doth yield.
[ExeuntTitaniaandBottom,attended by train.
Quince.Were this but told in Athens, now, ’twere not believed by aught, but we accredited liars all of the first water, and so esteemed.
All.’Twere indeed but so, and truly, Peter Quince.
Quince.Therefore I hold that (an’ we once more come by our own firesides in Athens), we were best make no words of the happenings we have beheld but now, lest we be cried upon in the public streets as those that be counted no true men.
All.That were to shame us, every mother’s son.
Quince.Why you speak the very gizzard of the matter, my masters all, and we will be silent in such wise as I did perpetuate, and as for Nick Bottom, let his goblin mistress do with him as she listeth, for methinks we are well rid of his company, being, for ourselves, nothing loose-minded but sober, virtuous citizens all.
All.That are we, Peter Quince, and we thank God for’t.
EnterPuck,unperceived, who tweaksQuinceviolently by the nose and exits.
Quince.O masters, which ofyou—
Is suddenly twitched aside byPuck.Re-enterswith a lion’s head on his shoulders.
All.God defends us, Peter Quince.
Quince.Masters, it ill becomes you as sober citizens of Athens to treat one of yourselves thus unseemly. Am not I a simple workman like the rest of you? Is it not my very own voice that you hear but now? [Roars.
All.God for his mercy.
[Exeunt all butQuince.
Quince.These be strange manners; an’ I were a very lion, though being of a truth of a most lamblike perdition, they could not have fled from me with greater speeding. I will e’en after them to taste the reason of their knavery.
EnterPuck.
Puck.Now will I set these patches by the ears,Making such monsters of their simple selvesAs severally shall fright them when they seeEach in the other’s fearful eyeball glass’d.
Puck.Now will I set these patches by the ears,Making such monsters of their simple selvesAs severally shall fright them when they seeEach in the other’s fearful eyeball glass’d.
Puck.Now will I set these patches by the ears,
Making such monsters of their simple selves
As severally shall fright them when they see
Each in the other’s fearful eyeball glass’d.
[ExitPuck.
Re-enterQuince.
Quince.And I can spy but one of my neighbours in this predestinated place I’ll be hanged.
Re-enterStarveling,with an owl’s head.
Quince.Bless us, Robin Starveling, what wizardry do I spy in you?
Starveling.Wizardry, an’ you call it, Peter Quince? Look to your own head an’ you would find out wizardry. There’s naught strange in me.
Re-enterSnug,with a bear’s head.
QuinceandStarveling. Save us, good Snug, how art thou transmogrified!
Snug.Not so, neither, neighbours both. I am but Snug the joiner, as you might behold him of any working day, but you twain, methinks, are most marvellously encountered.
QuinceandStarveling. Speak for yourself, Master Snug: we are the same as you have known us ever.
Quince.That is, I am the same, but Master Starveling is quite other than the simple man he was.
Starveling.Thou liest, Peter Quince. I am but plain Robin Starveling, but you are become a very monster.
Re-enterSnout,with a deer’s head and horns.
Quince.Good masters three, you are enchanted, and pity o’ my life it is. ’Tis I alone that doth remain as much mankind as I was ever.
Snout.An’ you count yourself the proper likeness of a man you are most horribly mistook, and so it is, Peter Quince.
Re-enterFlute,with the head of a crocodile.
Flute.O neighbours all, what behold I here? What sorcerer has thus exorcised upon you? O could you be spy upon yourselves to know how unlike you are to plain citizens like me.
Quince.A plain man, say you. Forsooth, yours is a very fearful manner of plainness, Francis Flute. But look at me, masters all, and you would gaze upon a plain man.
Starveling.Nay, look on me, in his stead.
Snout.Not so, but on me.
Snug.These be liars, every mother’s son. Look upon me, I say, Francis Flute.
Flute.Masters, hear but the simple truth. You are all of you deceived and have suffered most horrible enchantment, every mother’s son of you but me. Heaven help you, neighbours, and undo the spell that each and every one may become as I am.
[Gnashes his jaws fearfully.
All.That were most dire affliction of any that be in the varsal world, Francis Flute.
Flute.And you were not something other than simple mankind I could try conclusions with you that speak thus enviously. Indeed, I am something that way toward, but now.
[Exeunt Omnes, fighting.
EnterPuck.
Puck.Thus have I put the simple senses allOf these rude knaves sorely distraught, for eachDoth fear the other, deeming him the preyOf dark enchantment, while himself believesHimself none other than he was at firstLord, how simple mortals be,And it much doth pleasure meTo behold them all distraught;Each in fairy toils is caught,There to bide at my good will,Roaring, growling, fighting still.
Puck.Thus have I put the simple senses allOf these rude knaves sorely distraught, for eachDoth fear the other, deeming him the preyOf dark enchantment, while himself believesHimself none other than he was at firstLord, how simple mortals be,And it much doth pleasure meTo behold them all distraught;Each in fairy toils is caught,There to bide at my good will,Roaring, growling, fighting still.
Puck.Thus have I put the simple senses all
Of these rude knaves sorely distraught, for each
Doth fear the other, deeming him the prey
Of dark enchantment, while himself believes
Himself none other than he was at first
Lord, how simple mortals be,And it much doth pleasure meTo behold them all distraught;Each in fairy toils is caught,There to bide at my good will,Roaring, growling, fighting still.
Lord, how simple mortals be,
And it much doth pleasure me
To behold them all distraught;
Each in fairy toils is caught,
There to bide at my good will,
Roaring, growling, fighting still.
[ExitPuck.
Ferdinand.How like you this, Miranda? Hath not he,The gamesome elf, made merry mischief so’Mongst these dull wits that scarce may they once moreRegain their sometime selves and liberty.Miranda.’Twas merry, sooth, yet I could wish the spellDissolv’d that made them fearsome to themselves,And enemies that once were friends. He thatHath friends hath treasure, more than wealth of Ind,And he that hath not still is poor indeed,Though all the gold of Ophir ’long’d to him.
Ferdinand.How like you this, Miranda? Hath not he,The gamesome elf, made merry mischief so’Mongst these dull wits that scarce may they once moreRegain their sometime selves and liberty.Miranda.’Twas merry, sooth, yet I could wish the spellDissolv’d that made them fearsome to themselves,And enemies that once were friends. He thatHath friends hath treasure, more than wealth of Ind,And he that hath not still is poor indeed,Though all the gold of Ophir ’long’d to him.
Ferdinand.How like you this, Miranda? Hath not he,
The gamesome elf, made merry mischief so
’Mongst these dull wits that scarce may they once more
Regain their sometime selves and liberty.
Miranda.’Twas merry, sooth, yet I could wish the spell
Dissolv’d that made them fearsome to themselves,
And enemies that once were friends. He that
Hath friends hath treasure, more than wealth of Ind,
And he that hath not still is poor indeed,
Though all the gold of Ophir ’long’d to him.
EnterJaques,laughing.
Jaques.Though I be sworn to sadness it doth makeMe gladsome ’gainst my dispositionTo note the antics of these greasy foolsOf Athens, pent within the glade where I,All unobserv’d, have play’d the spy upon’Em this full hour. How like these fustian churlsBe to their fellows of the scepter’d throne,The ermine robe, the ’broider’d chasuble.’Tis habit makes the man, the wearer’s naught.The fool, when he is naked, shows as sageAs the philosopher so furnished;The lout’s bare hide’s no worser than the king’s,And, when their pride is fondly touch’d, all menAre brothers. Did not each Athenian wightBeholding all his fellows in their guiseMost strange and horrible, yet deem himselfPerch’d high above the reach of wizardry,And sole possessor of a countenanceSuch as is worn ’mongst ordinary folk?My sides do ache with mirth when I bethinkMe of these simple churls, and of their kinBy Adam, in high places set, how each,No matter what his state, doth ne’er perceiveHimself glass’d in his fellow’s eye, but paintsInstead a portrait in fair colours mix’d,Calls it his likeness, and would have the world,That knows him what he is, declare its truthBoth in the general and particular.This globe is peopl’d with philosophersAnd fools, methinks, by which I mean the wiseAre the sole wearers of the motley coatAnd all men else do owe the cap and bells.The lover is a fool who doth proclaimHis mistress is perfection; the maid,Who thinks her swain compact of truth; the king,Who stakes his crown upon a battle’s point;The soldier, who for glory gives his lifeAnd dies, a forfeit to’t; the tonsur’d saint,Who vows to heaven that which ’longs to men.O, I could moralize upon this themeAn hour by the clock, with still grave matter leftFor melancholy contemplation.
Jaques.Though I be sworn to sadness it doth makeMe gladsome ’gainst my dispositionTo note the antics of these greasy foolsOf Athens, pent within the glade where I,All unobserv’d, have play’d the spy upon’Em this full hour. How like these fustian churlsBe to their fellows of the scepter’d throne,The ermine robe, the ’broider’d chasuble.’Tis habit makes the man, the wearer’s naught.The fool, when he is naked, shows as sageAs the philosopher so furnished;The lout’s bare hide’s no worser than the king’s,And, when their pride is fondly touch’d, all menAre brothers. Did not each Athenian wightBeholding all his fellows in their guiseMost strange and horrible, yet deem himselfPerch’d high above the reach of wizardry,And sole possessor of a countenanceSuch as is worn ’mongst ordinary folk?My sides do ache with mirth when I bethinkMe of these simple churls, and of their kinBy Adam, in high places set, how each,No matter what his state, doth ne’er perceiveHimself glass’d in his fellow’s eye, but paintsInstead a portrait in fair colours mix’d,Calls it his likeness, and would have the world,That knows him what he is, declare its truthBoth in the general and particular.This globe is peopl’d with philosophersAnd fools, methinks, by which I mean the wiseAre the sole wearers of the motley coatAnd all men else do owe the cap and bells.The lover is a fool who doth proclaimHis mistress is perfection; the maid,Who thinks her swain compact of truth; the king,Who stakes his crown upon a battle’s point;The soldier, who for glory gives his lifeAnd dies, a forfeit to’t; the tonsur’d saint,Who vows to heaven that which ’longs to men.O, I could moralize upon this themeAn hour by the clock, with still grave matter leftFor melancholy contemplation.
Jaques.Though I be sworn to sadness it doth make
Me gladsome ’gainst my disposition
To note the antics of these greasy fools
Of Athens, pent within the glade where I,
All unobserv’d, have play’d the spy upon
’Em this full hour. How like these fustian churls
Be to their fellows of the scepter’d throne,
The ermine robe, the ’broider’d chasuble.
’Tis habit makes the man, the wearer’s naught.
The fool, when he is naked, shows as sage
As the philosopher so furnished;
The lout’s bare hide’s no worser than the king’s,
And, when their pride is fondly touch’d, all men
Are brothers. Did not each Athenian wight
Beholding all his fellows in their guise
Most strange and horrible, yet deem himself
Perch’d high above the reach of wizardry,
And sole possessor of a countenance
Such as is worn ’mongst ordinary folk?
My sides do ache with mirth when I bethink
Me of these simple churls, and of their kin
By Adam, in high places set, how each,
No matter what his state, doth ne’er perceive
Himself glass’d in his fellow’s eye, but paints
Instead a portrait in fair colours mix’d,
Calls it his likeness, and would have the world,
That knows him what he is, declare its truth
Both in the general and particular.
This globe is peopl’d with philosophers
And fools, methinks, by which I mean the wise
Are the sole wearers of the motley coat
And all men else do owe the cap and bells.
The lover is a fool who doth proclaim
His mistress is perfection; the maid,
Who thinks her swain compact of truth; the king,
Who stakes his crown upon a battle’s point;
The soldier, who for glory gives his life
And dies, a forfeit to’t; the tonsur’d saint,
Who vows to heaven that which ’longs to men.
O, I could moralize upon this theme
An hour by the clock, with still grave matter left
For melancholy contemplation.
[ExitJaques.
Miranda.Yon sober suited wight, meseems, doth makeA play of sadness.Ferdinand.So, in sooth, he doth.His wisdom rings but hollowly, and allHis speech declares a studied wilfulnessSuch as we note in him who acts a partThat finds no smallest likeness in himself.
Miranda.Yon sober suited wight, meseems, doth makeA play of sadness.Ferdinand.So, in sooth, he doth.His wisdom rings but hollowly, and allHis speech declares a studied wilfulnessSuch as we note in him who acts a partThat finds no smallest likeness in himself.
Miranda.Yon sober suited wight, meseems, doth make
A play of sadness.
Ferdinand.So, in sooth, he doth.
His wisdom rings but hollowly, and all
His speech declares a studied wilfulness
Such as we note in him who acts a part
That finds no smallest likeness in himself.
Soft music heard, followed by a dance of elves.
[ExeuntFerdinandandMiranda.
SceneVII.Still another part of the island.EnterProspero.
Prospero.Now have I ’complish’d that I didintend,—Dispers’d Miranda’s sadness utterly,And, for a brief space, made the airy dreamsOf Master Shakescene take on form againAs erst in other lands and climes, that soThese married lovers might be entertain’dFull pleasingly, and gather from the hoursSpent in this isle of summer, honey’d sweetsFor fond remembrance in the tide of time.My Ariel! What, Ariel, I say![EnterAriel.Thanks, gentle Ariel, who hast againDone all my bidding. But for thee my artHad halted ere its best. Once more receiveMy thanks, who am much bound to thee.Ariel.This time,Good master Prospero, I serv’d for loveNot duty, and I count your thanks rewardIn fullest measure. And there be nothing elseYou would of me, then, Prospero, adieu.Prospero.Adieu, gentlest of spirits, Ariel.
Prospero.Now have I ’complish’d that I didintend,—Dispers’d Miranda’s sadness utterly,And, for a brief space, made the airy dreamsOf Master Shakescene take on form againAs erst in other lands and climes, that soThese married lovers might be entertain’dFull pleasingly, and gather from the hoursSpent in this isle of summer, honey’d sweetsFor fond remembrance in the tide of time.My Ariel! What, Ariel, I say![EnterAriel.Thanks, gentle Ariel, who hast againDone all my bidding. But for thee my artHad halted ere its best. Once more receiveMy thanks, who am much bound to thee.Ariel.This time,Good master Prospero, I serv’d for loveNot duty, and I count your thanks rewardIn fullest measure. And there be nothing elseYou would of me, then, Prospero, adieu.Prospero.Adieu, gentlest of spirits, Ariel.
Prospero.Now have I ’complish’d that I didintend,—
Dispers’d Miranda’s sadness utterly,
And, for a brief space, made the airy dreams
Of Master Shakescene take on form again
As erst in other lands and climes, that so
These married lovers might be entertain’d
Full pleasingly, and gather from the hours
Spent in this isle of summer, honey’d sweets
For fond remembrance in the tide of time.
My Ariel! What, Ariel, I say![EnterAriel.
Thanks, gentle Ariel, who hast again
Done all my bidding. But for thee my art
Had halted ere its best. Once more receive
My thanks, who am much bound to thee.
Ariel.This time,
Good master Prospero, I serv’d for love
Not duty, and I count your thanks reward
In fullest measure. And there be nothing else
You would of me, then, Prospero, adieu.
Prospero.Adieu, gentlest of spirits, Ariel.
[ExitAriel.
Thunder heard andProsperovanishes.
SceneVIII.A room in the palace at Naples.
[EnterFerdinandandMiranda.
Miranda.O Ferdinand, my love, last night I sleptAnd sleeping dream’d, and in my dream I sawThe isle where first you knew me, where we toldEach to the other our fond loves. MethoughtI was by you companion’d and the hoursDid move to music while there pass’d beforeOur wond’ring eyes, as for our sole delight,A many folk, strange sorted, who did talkTogether, and at whiles as ’twere a playAnd we beholding it. ’Twas wondrous strange.Ferdinand.O, my Miranda, sure some power we wotNot of doth play with us as we at chessDo move the pieces this way first and that,Because our will is to’t. Know then that IDid dream the fellow unto yours (if itIn very truth were that and nothing more).Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with youBeside the while, and did behold, as onA stage a company of players strutTheir hour or two, a band of merry folkWith some that wept and cried out upon fate.Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hapTo us when we do sleep? At whiles we noteIn slumber tokens of a life apartFrom this, alike, yet not alike, and whoMay say how far the spirit wanders whenThe body sleeps?Miranda.Would all my dreams were likeTo this we’ve wak’d from, for ’twas sweet, yet sad,And not so sad but that ’twas sweet the more.I would it were to dream again.Ferdinand.Who knows,Sweet Saint Miranda, but it will return?
Miranda.O Ferdinand, my love, last night I sleptAnd sleeping dream’d, and in my dream I sawThe isle where first you knew me, where we toldEach to the other our fond loves. MethoughtI was by you companion’d and the hoursDid move to music while there pass’d beforeOur wond’ring eyes, as for our sole delight,A many folk, strange sorted, who did talkTogether, and at whiles as ’twere a playAnd we beholding it. ’Twas wondrous strange.Ferdinand.O, my Miranda, sure some power we wotNot of doth play with us as we at chessDo move the pieces this way first and that,Because our will is to’t. Know then that IDid dream the fellow unto yours (if itIn very truth were that and nothing more).Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with youBeside the while, and did behold, as onA stage a company of players strutTheir hour or two, a band of merry folkWith some that wept and cried out upon fate.Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hapTo us when we do sleep? At whiles we noteIn slumber tokens of a life apartFrom this, alike, yet not alike, and whoMay say how far the spirit wanders whenThe body sleeps?Miranda.Would all my dreams were likeTo this we’ve wak’d from, for ’twas sweet, yet sad,And not so sad but that ’twas sweet the more.I would it were to dream again.Ferdinand.Who knows,Sweet Saint Miranda, but it will return?
Miranda.O Ferdinand, my love, last night I slept
And sleeping dream’d, and in my dream I saw
The isle where first you knew me, where we told
Each to the other our fond loves. Methought
I was by you companion’d and the hours
Did move to music while there pass’d before
Our wond’ring eyes, as for our sole delight,
A many folk, strange sorted, who did talk
Together, and at whiles as ’twere a play
And we beholding it. ’Twas wondrous strange.
Ferdinand.O, my Miranda, sure some power we wot
Not of doth play with us as we at chess
Do move the pieces this way first and that,
Because our will is to’t. Know then that I
Did dream the fellow unto yours (if it
In very truth were that and nothing more).
Like you, I vis’ted that sweet spot, with you
Beside the while, and did behold, as on
A stage a company of players strut
Their hour or two, a band of merry folk
With some that wept and cried out upon fate.
Who knoweth, my Miranda, what doth hap
To us when we do sleep? At whiles we note
In slumber tokens of a life apart
From this, alike, yet not alike, and who
May say how far the spirit wanders when
The body sleeps?
Miranda.Would all my dreams were like
To this we’ve wak’d from, for ’twas sweet, yet sad,
And not so sad but that ’twas sweet the more.
I would it were to dream again.
Ferdinand.Who knows,
Sweet Saint Miranda, but it will return?
Soft music again heard.
[ExeuntFerdinandandMiranda.