The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,

  Twenty to one, is trussed up in a trice

  Tomorrow morning. I’ll say never a word.

  (She sings)

  For I’ll cut my green coat, a foot above my knee,

  And I’ll clip my yellow locks, an inch below mine eye,

  Hey nonny, nonny, nonny,

  He s’buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,

  And I’ll go seek him, through the world that is so wide,

  Hey nonny, nonny, nonny.

  O for a prick now, like a nightingale,

  To put my breast against. I shall sleep like a top else.

  Exit

  3.5 Enter Gerald (a schoolmaster), five Countrymen, one of whom is dressed as a Babion, five Wenches, and Timothy, a taborer. All are attired as morris dancers

  SCHOOLMASTER Fie, fie,

  What tediosity and disinsanity

  Is here among yet Have my rudiments

  Been laboured so long with ye, milked unto ye,

  And, by a figure, even the very plum-broth

  And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye?

  And do you still cry ‘where?’ and ‘how?’ and

  ‘wherefore?’

  You most coarse frieze capacities, ye jean judgements,

  Have I said, ‘thus let be’, and ‘there let be’,

  And ‘then let be’, and no man understand me?

  Proh deum, medius fidius-ye are all dunces.

  Forwhy, here stand I. Here the Duke comes. There are

  you,

  Close in the thicket. The Duke appears. I meet him,

  And unto him I utter learnèd things

  And many figures. He hears, and nods, and hums,

  And then cries, ‘Rare!’, and I go forward. At length

  I fling my cap up—mark there—then do you,

  As once did Meleager and the boar,

  Break comely out before him, like true lovers,

  Cast yourselves in a body decently,

  And sweetly, by a figure, trace and turn, boys.

  FIRST COUNTRYMAN

  And sweetly we will do it, master Gerald.

  SECOND COUNTRYMAN

  Draw up the company. Where’s the taborer?

  THIRD COUNTRYMAN

  Why, Timothy!

  TABORER Here, my mad boys, have at ye!

  SCHOOLMASTER

  But I say, where’s these women?

  FOURTH COUNTRYMAN Here’s Friz and Madeline.

  SECOND COUNTRYMAN

  And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbara.

  FIRST COUNTRYMAN

  And freckled Nell, that never failed her master.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Where be your ribbons, maids? Swim with your bodies

  And carry it sweetly and deliverly,

  And now and then a favour and a frisk.

  NELL

  Let us alone, sir.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Where’s the rest o’th’ music?

  THIRD COUNTRYMAN

  Dispersed as you commanded.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Couple, then,

  And see what’s wanting. Where’s the babion?

  (To the Babion) My friend, carry your tail without

  offence

  Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure

  You tumble with audacity and manhood,

  And when you bark, do it with judgement.

  BABION Yes, sir.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Quousque tandem? Here is a woman wanting!

  FOURTH COUNTRYMAN

  We may go whistle—all the fat’s i’th’ fire.

  SCHOOLMASTER We have,

  As learned authors utter, washed a tile;

  We have been fatuus, and laboured vainly.

  SECOND COUNTRYMAN

  This is that scornful piece, that scurvy hilding

  That gave her promise faithfully she would be here—

  Cicely, the seamstress’ daughter.

  The next gloves that I give her shall be dogskin.

  Nay, an she fail me once—you can tell, Areas,

  She swore by wine and bread she would not break.

  SCHOOLMASTER An eel and woman,

  A learned poet says, unless by th’ tail

  And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail—

  In manners this was false position.

  FIRST COUNTRYMAN

  A fire-ill take her! Does she flinch now?

  THIRD COUNTRYMAN What

  Shall we determine, sir?

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Nothing;

  Our business is become a nullity,

  Yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity.

  FOURTH COUNTRYMAN

  Now, when the credit of our town lay on it,

  Now to be frampold, now to piss o’th’ nettle!

  Go thy ways—I’ll remember thee, I’ll fit thee!

  Enter the Jailer’s Daughter

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER (sings)

  The George Alow came from the south,

  From the coast of Barbary-a;

  And there he met with brave gallants of war,

  By one, by two, by three-a.

  ‘Well hailed, well hailed, you jolly gallants,

  And whither now are you bound-a?

  O let me have your company

  Till I come to the sound-a.’

  There was three fools fell out about an owlet—The one he said it was an owl,

  The other he said nay,

  The third he said it was a hawk,

  And her bells were cut away.

  THIRD COUNTRYMAN

  There’s a dainty madwoman, master,

  Comes i’th’ nick, as mad as a March hare.

  If we can get her dance, we are made again.

  I warrant her, she’ll do the rarest gambols.

  FIRST COUNTRYMAN

  A madwoman? We are made, boys.

  SCHOOLMASTER (to the Jailer’s Daughter)

  And are you mad, good woman?

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER

  I would be sorry else.

  Give me your hand.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Why?

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER

  I can tell your fortune.

  ⌈She examines his hand⌉

  You are a fool. Tell ten—I have posed him. Buzz!

  Friend, you must eat no white bread—if you do,

  Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we dance, ho?

  I know you—you’re a tinker. Sirrah tinker,

  Stop no more holes but what you should.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Dii boni—

  A tinker, damsel?

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER

  Or a conjurer—

  Raise me a devil now and let him play

  Qui passa o’th’ bells and bones.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Go, take her,

  And fluently persuade her to a peace.

  Et opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira, nec ignis—

  Strike up, and lead her in.

  SECOND COUNTRYMAN

  Come, lass, let’s trip it.

  JAILER’S DAUGHTER I’ll lead.

  THIRD COUNTRYMAN Do, do.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Persuasively and cunningly—

  Wind horns within

  away, boys,

  I hear the horns. Give me some meditation,

  And mark your cue.

  Exeunt all but Gerald the Schoolmaster Pallas inspire me.

  Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, Arcite, and train

  THESEUS This way the stag took.

  SCHOOLMASTER Stay and edify.

  THESEUS What have we here?

  PIRITHOUS

  Some country sport, upon my life, sir.

  THESEUS (to the Schoolmaster)

  Well, sir, go forward—we will edify.

  Ladies, sit down—we’ll stay it.

  They sit: ⌈theseus⌉ in a chair, the oth
ers on stools

  SCHOOLMASTER

  Thou doughty Duke, all hail! All hail, sweet ladies.

  THESEUS This is a cold beginning.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  If you but favour, our country pastime made is.

  We are a few of those collected here,

  That ruder tongues distinguish ‘villager’;

  And to say verity, and not to fable,

  We are a merry rout, or else a rabble,

  Or company, or, by a figure, chorus,

  That fore thy dignity will dance a morris.

  And I, that am the rectifier of all,

  By title pedagogus, that let fall

  The birch upon the breeches of the small ones,

  And humble with a ferula the tall ones,

  Do here present this machine, or this frame;

  And dainty Duke, whose doughty dismal fame

  From Dis to Daedalus, from post to pillar,

  Is blown abroad, help me, thy poor well-willer,

  And with thy twinkling eyes, look right and straight

  Upon this mighty ‘Moor’—of mickle weight—

  ‘Ice’ now comes in, which, being glued together,

  Makes ‘morris’, and the cause that we came hither.

  The body of our sport, of no small study,

  I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy,

  To speak, before thy noble grace, this tenor

  At whose great feet I offer up my penner.

  The next, the Lord of May and Lady bright;

  The Chambermaid and Servingman, by night

  That seek out silent hanging; then mine Host

  And his fat Spouse, that welcomes, to their cost,

  The galled traveller, and with a beck’ning

  Informs the tapster to inflame the reck‘ning;

  Then the beest-eating Clown; and next, the Fool;

  The babion with long tail and eke long tool,

  Cum multis aliis that make a dance—

  Say ‘ay’, and all shall presently advance.

  THESEUS

  Ay, ay, by any means, dear dominie.

  PIRITHOUS Produce.

  SCHOOLMASTER (knocks for the dance)

  Intrate filii, come forth and foot it.

  ⌈He flings up his cap.⌉ Music.

  ⌈The Schoolmaster ushers in

  May Lord,

  Servingman,

  A Country Clown,

  or Shepherd,

  An Host,

  A He-babion,

  May Lady.

  Chambermaid.

  Country Wench.

  Hostess.

  She-babion.

  A He-fool, The Jailer’s Daughter as

  She-fool.

  All these persons apparelled to the life, the men issuing out of one door and the wenches from the other. They dance a morris⌉

  Ladies, if we have been merry,

  And have pleased ye with a derry,

  And a derry, and a down,

  Say the schoolmaster’s no clown.

  Duke, if we have pleased thee too,

  And have done as good boys should do,

  Give us but a tree or twain

  For a maypole, and again,

  Ere another year run out,

  We’ll make thee laugh, and all this rout.

  THESEUS

  Take twenty, dominie. (To Hippolyta) How does my sweetheart?

  HIPPOLYTA

  Never so pleased, sir.

  EMILIA

  ’Twas an excellent dance,

  And for a preface, I never heard a better.

  THESEUS

  Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see ’em all rewarded.

  PIRITHOUS

  And here’s something to paint your pole withal.

  He gives them money

  THESEUS Now to our sports again.

  SCHOOLMASTER

  May the stag thou hunt’st stand long,

  And thy dogs be swift and strong;

  May they kill him without lets,

  And the ladies eat his dowsets.

  Exeunt Theseus and train. Wind horns within

  Come, we are all made. Dii deaeque omnes,

  Ye have danced rarely, wenches.

  Exeunt

  3.6 Enter Palamon from the bush

  PALAMON

  About this hour my cousin gave his faith

  To visit me again, and with him bring

  Two swords and two good armours; if he fail,

  He’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me,

  I did not think a week could have restored

  My lost strength to me, I was grown so low

  And crest-fall’n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,

  Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself,

  With this refreshing, able once again

  To out-dure danger. To delay it longer

  Would make the world think, when it comes to

  hearing,

  That I lay fatting, like a swine, to fight,

  And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning

  Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,

  If it but hold, I kill him with; ’tis justice.

  So, love and fortune for me!

  Enter Arcite with two armours and two swords

  O, good morrow.

  ARCITE

  Good morrow, noble kinsman.

  PALAMON

  I have put you

  To too much pains, sir.

  ARCITE

  That too much, fair cousin,

  Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.

  PALAMON

  Would you were so in all, sir—I could wish ye

  As kind a kinsman, as you force me find

  A beneficial foe, that my embraces

  Might thank ye, not my blows.

  ARCITE

  I shall think either,

  Well done, a noble recompense.

  PALAMON

  Then I shall quit you.

  ARCITE

  Defy me in these fair terms, and you show

  More than a mistress to me—no more anger,

  As you love anything that’s honourable.

  We were not bred to talk, man. When we are armed

  And both upon our guards, then let our fury,

  Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us;

  And then to whom the birthright of this beauty

  Truly pertains—without upbraidings, scorns,

  Despisings of our persons, and such poutings

  Fitter for girls and schoolboys—will be seen,

  And quickly, yours or mine. Will’t please you arm,

  sir?

  Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet,

  And furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay,

  cousin,

  And every day discourse you into health,

  As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,

  And I could wish I had not said I loved her,

  Though I had died; but loving such a lady,

  And justifying my love, I must not fly from’t.

  PALAMON

  Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy

  That no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee.

  I am well and lusty—choose your arms.

  ARCITE Choose you, sir.

  PALAMON

  Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it

  To make me spare thee?

  ARCITE

  If you think so, cousin,

  You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,

  I will not spare you.

  PALAMON

  That’s well said.

  ARCITE

  You’ll find it.

  PALAMON

  Then as I am an honest man, and love

  With all the justice of affection,

  I’ll pay thee soundly.

  He chooses one armour

  This I’ll take.

  ARCITE (indicating the remaining armour)

  That’
s mine, then.

  I’ll arm you first.

  PALAMON

  Do.

  Arcite arms Palamon

  Pray thee tell me, cousin,

  Where gott’st thou this good armour?

  ARCITE

  ‘Tis the Duke’s,

  And to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?

  PALAMON

  No.

  ARCITE

  Is’t not too heavy?

  PALAMON

  I have worn a lighter—

  But I shall make it serve.

  ARCITE

  I’ll buckle’t close.

  PALAMON

  By any means.

  ARCITE

  You care not for a grand guard?

  PALAMON

  No, no, we’ll use no horses. I perceive

  You would fain be at that fight.

  ARCITE

  I am indifferent.

  PALAMON

  Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle

  Through far enough.

  ARCITE

  I warrant you.

  PALAMON

  My casque now.

  ARCITE

  Will you fight bare-armed?

  PALAMON We shall be the nimbler.

  ARCITE

  But use your gauntlets, though—those are o’th’ least.

  Prithee take mine, good cousin.

  PALAMON

  Thank you, Arcite.

  How do I look? Am I fall’n much away?

  ARCITE

  Faith, very little—love has used you kindly.

  PALAMON

  I’ll warrant thee, I’ll strike home.

  ARCITE

  Do, and spare not—

  I’ll give you cause, sweet cousin.

  PALAMON Now to you, sir.

  Palamon arms Arcite

  Methinks this armour’s very like that, Arcite,

  Thou wor’st that day the three kings fell, but lighter.

  ARCITE

  That was a very good one, and that day,

  I well remember, you outdid me, cousin.

  I never saw such valour. When you charged

  Upon the left wing of the enemy,

  I spurred hard to come up, and under me

  I had a right good horse.

  PALAMON

  You had indeed—

  A bright bay, I remember.

  ARCITE

  Yes. But all

  Was vainly laboured in me—you outwent me,

  Nor could my wishes reach you. Yet a little

  I did by imitation.

  PALAMON

  More by virtue—

  You are modest, cousin.

  ARCITE

  When I saw you charge first,