The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  Make it our council house or cabinet:

  Since green our thoughts, green be the conventicle

  Where we will ease us by disburd’ning them.

  ⌈They sit. Lodowick prepares to write⌉

  Now, Lod‘wick, invocate some golden muse

  To bring thee hither an enchanted pen

  That may for sighs set down true sighs indeed,

  Talking of grief, to make thee ready groan,

  And when thou write’st of tears, encouch the word

  Before and after with such sweet laments

  That it may raise drops in a Tartar’s eye,

  And make a flint-heart Scythian pitiful—

  For so much moving hath a poet’s pen.

  Then, if thou be a poet, move thou so

  And be enriched by thy sovereign’s love.

  For if the touch of sweet concordant strings

  Could force attendance in the ears of hell,

  How much more shall the strains of poets’ wit

  Beguile and ravish soft and human minds?

  LODOWICK

  To whom, my lord, shall I direct my style?

  KING EDWARD

  To one that stains the fair and sots the wise,

  Whose body is an abstract or a brief,

  Contains each general virtue in the world.

  ‘Better than beautiful’, thou must begin,

  Devise for fair a fairer word than ‘fair’,

  And every ornament that thou wouldst praise,

  Fly it a pitch above the soar of praise.

  For flattery fear thou not to be convicted,

  For were thy admiration ten times more,

  Ten times ten thousand more the worth exceeds

  Of that thou art to praise thy praise’s worth.

  Begin; I will to contemplate the while.

  Forget not to set down how passionate,

  How heart-sick and how full of languishment

  Her beauty makes me.

  LODOWICK Write I to a woman?

  KING EDWARD

  What beauty else could triumph over me,

  Or who but women do our love-lays greet?

  What think’st thou I did bid thee praise? A horse?

  LODOWICK

  Of what condition or estate she is

  ’Twere requisite that I should know, my lord.

  KING EDWARD

  Of such estate that hers is as a throne,

  And my estate the footstool where she treads.

  Then mayst thou judge what her condition is

  By the proportion of her mightiness.

  Write on, while I peruse her in my thoughts.

  ⌈ ⌉

  Her voice to music or the nightingale.

  To music every summer-leaping swain

  Compares his sunburnt lover when she speaks,

  And why should I speak of the nightingale?

  The nightingale sings of adulterate wrong

  And that compare is too satirical,

  For sin, though sin, would not be so esteemed,

  But rather virtue sin, sin virtue deemed.

  Her hair far softer than the silkworm’s twist,

  Like to a flattering glass doth make more fair

  The yellow amber—‘like a flattering glass’

  Comes in too soon: for writing of her eyes

  I’ll say that like a glass they catch the sun,

  And thence the hot reflection doth rebound

  Against my breast and burns my heart within.

  Ah, what a world of descant makes my soul

  Upon this voluntary ground of love!

  Come, Lod’wick: hast thou turned thy ink to gold?

  If not, write but in letters capital

  My mistress’ name, and it will gild thy paper.

  Read, Lod’wick, read!

  Fill thou the empty hollows of mine ears

  With the sweet hearing of thy poetry!

  LODOWICK

  I have not to a period brought her praise.

  KING EDWARD

  Her praise is as my Love—both infinite,

  Which apprehend such violent extremes

  That they disdain an ending period.

  Her beauty hath no match but my affection;

  Hers more than most, mine most, and more than more;

  Hers more to praise than tell the sea by drops—

  Nay more!—than drop the massy earth by sands,

  And sand by sand print them in memory.

  Then wherefore talk’st thou of a period

  To that which craves unended admiration?

  Read. Let us hear.

  LODOWICK (reading)

  ‘More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades’—

  KING EDWARD (staying him)

  That line hath two faults, gross and palpable.

  Compar’st thou her to the pale queen of night,

  Who, being set in dark, seems therefore light?

  What is she when the sun lifts up his head

  But like a fading taper, dim and dead?

  My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon,

  And, being unmasked, outshine the golden sun!

  LODOWICK

  What is the other fault, my sovereign lord?

  KING EDWARD

  Read o’er the line again.

  LODOWICK (reading) ‘More fair and chaste’—

  KING EDWARD (staying him)

  I did not bid thee talk of chastity,

  To ransack so the treasure of her mind,

  For I had rather have her chased than chaste!

  Out with the moon line! I will none of it.

  And let me have her likened to the sun-

  Say she hath thrice more splendour than the sun,

  That her perfections emulates the sun,

  That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun,

  That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun,

  That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun,

  That she doth dazzle gazers like the sun,

  And in this application to the sun

  Bid her be free and general as the sun,

  Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows

  As lovingly as on the fragrant rose.

  Let’s see what follows that same moonlight line.

  LODOWICK (reading)

  ‘More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,

  More bold in constancy’—

  KING EDWARD (staying him)

  In constancy than who?

  LODOWICK (reading)

  ‘...than Judith was.’

  KING EDWARD

  O monstrous line! Put in the next a sword

  And I shall woo her to cut off my head!

  Blot, blot, good Lod’wick. Let us hear the next.

  LODOWICK There’s all that yet is done.

  KING EDWARD

  I thank thee then. Thou hast done little ill,

  But what is done is passing passing ill.

  No, let the captain talk of boist’rous war,

  The prisoner of emurèd dark constraint;

  The sick man best sets down the pangs of death,

  The man that starves the sweetness of a feast,

  The frozen soul the benefit of fire,

  And every grief his happy opposite.

  Love cannot sound well but in lovers’ tongues.

  Give me the pen and paper. I will write.

  Lodowick gives him the pen and paper.

  Enter the Countess of Salisbury

  (Aside) But soft—here comes the treasurer of my spirit.

  (Aloud to Lodowick, showing him the paper in his hand)

  Lod‘wick, thou know’st not how to draw a battle!

  These wings, these flankers and these squadrons

  Argue in thee defective discipline.

  Thou shouldst have placed this here, this other here—

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  Pardon my boldness, my thrice-gracious lords.

  Let
my intrusion here be called my duty

  That comes to see my sovereign how he fares.

  KING EDWARD (to Lodowick, giving him the paper)

  Go, draw the same, I tell thee in what form.

  LODOWICK I go. Exit

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  Sorry I am to see my liege so sad.

  What may thy subject do to drive from thee

  Thy gloomy consort, sullen melancholy?

  KING EDWARD

  Ah, lady, I am blunt and cannot strew

  The flowers of solace in a ground of shame.

  Since I came hither, Countess, I am wronged.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  Now God forbid that any in my house

  Should think my sovereign wrong! Thrice-gentle King,

  Acquaint me with thy cause of discontent.

  KING EDWARD

  How near, then, shall I be to remedy?

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  As near, my liege, as all my woman’s power

  Can pawn itself to buy thy remedy.

  KING EDWARD

  If thou speak’st true, then have I my redress.

  Engage thy power to redeem my joys,

  And I am joyful, Countess; else I die.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY I will, my liege.

  KING EDWARD Swear, Countess, that thou wilt.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY By heaven, I will.

  KING EDWARD

  Then take thyself a little way aside

  And tell thyself a king doth dote on thee.

  Say that within thy power it doth lie

  To make him happy, and that thou hast sworn

  To give him all the joy within thy power-

  Do this, and tell me when I shall be happy.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  All this is done, my thrice-dread sovereign.

  That power of love that I have power to give

  Thou hast, with all devout obedience.

  Employ me how thou wilt in proof thereof.

  KING EDWARD

  Thou hear’st me say that I do dote on thee.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  If on my beauty, take it if thou canst;

  Though little, I do prize it ten times less.

  If on my virtue, take it if thou canst;

  For virtue’s store, by giving, doth augment.

  Be it on what it will that I can give,

  And thou canst take away, inherit it.

  KING EDWARD

  It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  O, were it painted I would wipe it off

  And dispossess myself to give it thee!

  But, sovereign, it is soldered to my life:

  Take one, and both, for, like an humble shadow,

  It haunts the sunshine of my summer’s life—

  KING EDWARD

  But thou mayst lend it me to sport withal.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  As easy may my intellectual soul

  Be lent away and yet my body live

  As lend my body, palace to my soul,

  Away from her and yet retain my soul.

  My body is her bower, her court, her abbey;

  And she an angel, pure, divine, unspotted.

  If I should lend her house, my lord, to thee,

  I kill my poor soul, and my poor soul me.

  KING EDWARD

  Didst thou not swear to give me what I would?

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  I did, my liege, so what you would I could.

  KING EDWARD

  I wish no more of thee than thou mayst give,

  Nor beg I do not, but I rather buy—

  That is, thy love; and for that love of thine

  In rich exchange I tender to thee mine.

  COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

  But that your lips were sacred, good my lord,

  You would profane the holy name of love.

  That love you offer me you cannot give,

  For Caesar owes that tribute to his queen.

  That love you beg of me I cannot give,

  For Sarah owes that duty to her lord.

  He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp

  Shall die, my lord: and will your sacred self

  Commit high treason ‘gainst the king of heaven

  To stamp his image in forbidden metal,

  Forgetting your allegiance and your oath?

  In violating marriage’ sacred law

  You break a greater honour than yourself:

  To be a king is of a younger house

  Than to be married. Your progenitor,

  Sole reigning Adam o’er the universe,

  By God was honoured for a married man,

  But not by him anointed for a king.

  It is a penalty to break your statutes,

  Though not enacted with your highness’ hand;

  How much more to infringe the holy act

  Made by the mouth of God, sealed with his hand!

  I know my sovereign—in my husband’s love,

  Who now doth loyal service in his wars—

  Doth but so try the wife of Salisbury,

  Whether she will hear a wanton’s tale or no.

  Lest being therein guilty by my stay,

  From that, not from my liege, I turn away. Exit

  KING EDWARD

  Whether is her beauty by her words divine,

  Or are her words sweet chaplains to her beauty?

  Like as the wind doth beautify a sail

  And as a sail becomes the unseen wind,

  So do her words her beauties, beauty words.

  O, that I were a honey-gathering bee

  To bear the comb of virtue from this flower,

  And not a poison-sucking, envious spider

  To turn the juice I take to deadly venoml

  Religion is austere, and beauty gentle—

  Too strict a guardian for so fair a ward.

  O, that she were as is the air to me!

  Why, so she is: for when I would embrace her,

  This do I (embracing the air), and catch nothing but myself.

  I must enjoy her, for I cannot beat

  With reason and reproof fond love away.

  Enter the Earl of Warwick

  (Aside) Here comes her father. I will work with him

  To bear my colours in this field of love.

  EARL OF WARWICK

  How is it that my sovereign is so sad?

  May I, with pardon, know your highness’ grief?

  An that my old endeavour will remove it,

  It shall not cumber long your majesty.

  KING EDWARD

  A kind and voluntary gift thou proffer’st

  That I was forward to have begged of thee.

  But, O, thou world, great nurse of flattery,

  Why dost thou tip men’s tongues with golden words,

  And peise their deeds with weight of heavy lead

  That fair performance cannot follow promise?

  O, that a man might hold the heart’s close book

  And choke the lavish tongue when it doth utter

  The breath of falsehood not charactered there!

  EARL OF WARWICK

  Far be it from the honour of my age

  That I should owe bright gold and render lead.

  Age is a cynic, not a flatterer.

  I say again that if I knew your grief,

  And that by me it may be lessened,

  My proper harm should buy your highness’ good.

  KING EDWARD

  These are the vulgar tenders of false men

  That never pay the duty of their words.

  Thou wilt not stick to swear what thou hast said,

  But when thou know’st my griefs condition

  This rash disgorged vomit of thy word

  Thou wilt eat up again, and leave me helpless.

  EARL OF WARWICK

  By heaven, I will not, though your majesty
/>
  Did bid me run upon your sword and die!

  KING EDWARD

  Say that my grief is no way medicinable

  But by the loss and bruising of thine honour?

  EARL OF WARWICK

  If nothing but that loss may vantage you

  I would account that loss my vantage too.

  KING EDWARD

  Think’st that thou canst unswear thy oath again?

  EARL OF WARWICK

  I cannot, nor I would not if I could.

  KING EDWARD

  But if thou dost, what shall I say to thee?

  EARL OF WARWICK

  What may be said to any perjured villain

  That breaks the sacred warrant of an oath.

  KING EDWARD

  What wilt thou say to one that breaks an oath?

  EARL OF WARWICK

  That he hath broke his faith with God and man,

  And from them both stands excommunicate.

  KING EDWARD

  What office were it to suggest a man

  To break a lawful and religious vow?

  EARL OF WARWICK

  An office for the devil, not for man.

  KING EDWARD

  That devil’s office must thou do for me,

  Or break thy oath and cancel all the bonds

  Of love and duty ‘twixt thyself and me.

  And therefore, Warwick, if thou art thyself,

  The lord and master of thy word and oath,

  Go to thy daughter and, in my behalf,

  Command her, woo her, win her any ways

  To be my mistress and my secret love.

  I will not stand to hear thee make reply;

  Thy oath break hers, or let thy sovereign die. Exit

  EARL OF WARWICK

  O doting king! O detestable office!

  Well may I tempt myself to wrong myself,

  When he hath sworn me by the name of God

  To break a vow made by the name of God.

  What if I swear by this right hand of mine

  To cut this right hand off? The better way

  Were to profane the idol than confound it,

  But neither will I do. I’ll keep mine oath

  And to my daughter make a recantation

  Of all the virtue I have preached to her.

  I’ll say she must forget her husband, Salisbury—

  If she remember to embrace the King.

  I’ll say an oath may easily be broken—

  But not so easily pardoned, being broken.

  I’ll say it is true charity to love—

  But not true love to be so charitable.

  I’ll say his greatness may bear out the shame—

  But not his kingdom can buy out the sin.

  I’ll say it is my duty to persuade—

  But not her honesty to give consent.

  Enter the Countess of Salisbury

  (Aside) See where she comes. Was never father had

  Against his child an embassage so bad.