Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  Ratcliff

  That he was never trained up in arms.

  King Richard III

  He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?

  Ratcliff

  He smiled and said ‘The better for our purpose.’

  King Richard III

  He was in the right; and so indeed it is.

  Clock striketh

  Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar.

  Who saw the sun to-day?

  Ratcliff

  Not I, my lord.

  King Richard III

  Then he disdains to shine; for by the book

  He should have braved the east an hour ago

  A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!

  Ratcliff

  My lord?

  King Richard III

  The sun will not be seen to-day;

  The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.

  I would these dewy tears were from the ground.

  Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me

  More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven

  That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

  Enter Norfolk

  Norfolk

  Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.

  King Richard III

  Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse.

  Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:

  I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,

  And thus my battle shall be ordered:

  My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,

  Consisting equally of horse and foot;

  Our archers shall be placed in the midst

  John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,

  Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.

  They thus directed, we will follow

  In the main battle, whose puissance on either side

  Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.

  This, and Saint George to boot! What think’st thou, Norfolk?

  Norfolk

  A good direction, warlike sovereign.

  This found I on my tent this morning.

  He sheweth him a paper

  King Richard III

  [Reads]

  ‘Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,

  For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.’

  A thing devised by the enemy.

  Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge

  Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls:

  Conscience is but a word that cowards use,

  Devised at first to keep the strong in awe:

  Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.

  March on, join bravely, let us to’t pell-mell

  If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.

  His oration to his Army

  What shall I say more than I have inferr’d?

  Remember whom you are to cope withal;

  A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,

  A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants,

  Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth

  To desperate ventures and assured destruction.

  You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;

  You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives,

  They would restrain the one, distain the other.

  And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,

  Long kept in Bretagne at our mother’s cost?

  A milk-sop, one that never in his life

  Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?

  Let’s whip these stragglers o’er the seas again;

  Lash hence these overweening rags of France,

  These famish’d beggars, weary of their lives;

  Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,

  For want of means, poor rats, had hang’d themselves:

  If we be conquer’d, let men conquer us,

  And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers

  Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d,

  And in record, left them the heirs of shame.

  Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives?

  Ravish our daughters?

  Drum afar off

  Hark! I hear their drum.

  Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen!

  Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!

  Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;

  Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!

  Enter a Messenger

  What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power?

  Messenger

  My lord, he doth deny to come.

  King Richard III

  Off with his son George’s head!

  Norfolk

  My lord, the enemy is past the marsh

  After the battle let George Stanley die.

  King Richard III

  A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:

  Advance our standards, set upon our foes

  Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,

  Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!

  Upon them! victory sits on our helms.

  Exeunt

  SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

  Alarum: excursions. Enter Norfolk and forces fighting; to him Catesby

  Catesby

  Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!

  The king enacts more wonders than a man,

  Daring an opposite to every danger:

  His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,

  Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.

  Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!

  Alarums. Enter King Richard III

  King Richard III

  A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

  Catesby

  Withdraw, my lord; I’ll help you to a horse.

  King Richard III

  Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,

  And I will stand the hazard of the die:

  I think there be six Richmonds in the field;

  Five have I slain to-day instead of him.

  A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

  Alarum. Enter King Richard III and Richmond; they fight. King Richard III is slain. Retreat and flourish. Re-enter Richmond, Derby bearing the crown, with divers other Lords

  Richmond

  God and your arms be praised, victorious friends,

  The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.

  Derby

  Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.

  Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty

  From the dead temples of this bloody wretch

  Have I pluck’d off, to grace thy brows withal:

  Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.

  Richmond

  Great God of heaven, say Amen to all!

  But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?

  Derby

  He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town;

  Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.

  Richmond

  What men of name are slain on either side?

  Derby

  John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,

  Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.

  Richmond

  Inter their bodies as becomes their births:

  Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled

  That in submission will return to us:

  And then, as we have ta’en the sacrament,

  We will unite the white rose and the red:

  Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,

  That long have frown’d upon their enmity!

  What traitor hears me, and says not amen?

  England hath long been mad, and scarr’d herself;

  The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood,

  The father rashly slaughter’d his own son, />
  The son, compell’d, been butcher to the sire:

  All this divided York and Lancaster,

  Divided in their dire division,

  O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,

  The true succeeders of each royal house,

  By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together!

  And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so.

  Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,

  With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days!

  Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,

  That would reduce these bloody days again,

  And make poor England weep in streams of blood!

  Let them not live to taste this land’s increase

  That would with treason wound this fair land’s peace!

  Now civil wounds are stopp’d, peace lives again:

  That she may long live here, God say amen!

  Exeunt

  The Complete Comedies

  By

  William Shakespeare

  ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

  AS YOU LIKE IT

  THE COMEDY OF ERRORS

  LOVE’S LABOUR ’S LOST

  MEASURE FOR MEASURE

  THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR

  THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

  A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM

  MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

  THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

  TWELFTH NIGHT OR, WHAT YOU WILL

  THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA

  All’s Well That Ends Well

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  THE CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  SCENE II. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.

  SCENE III. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  ACT II

  SCENE I. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.

  SCENE II. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  SCENE III. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.

  SCENE IV. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.

  SCENE V. PARIS. THE KING’S PALACE.

  ACT III

  SCENE I. FLORENCE. THE DUKE’S PALACE.

  SCENE II. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  SCENE III. FLORENCE. BEFORE THE DUKE’S PALACE.

  SCENE IV. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  SCENE V. FLORENCE. WITHOUT THE WALLS. A TUCKET AFAR OFF.

  SCENE VI. CAMP BEFORE FLORENCE.

  SCENE VII. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.

  ACT IV

  SCENE I. WITHOUT THE FLORENTINE CAMP.

  SCENE II. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.

  SCENE III. THE FLORENTINE CAMP.

  SCENE IV. FLORENCE. THE WIDOW’S HOUSE.

  SCENE V. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  ACT V

  SCENE I. MARSEILLES. A STREET.

  SCENE II. ROUSILLON. BEFORE THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  SCENE III. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  EPILOGUE

  THE CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

  King of France.

  The Duke of Florence.

  Bertram, Count of Rousillon.

  Lafeu, an old Lord.

  Parolles, a follower of Bertram.

  Several young French Lords, that serve with Bertram in the Florentine War.

  Steward, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.

  Clown, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.

  A Page, Servant to the Countess of Rousillon.

  Countess of Rousillon, Mother to Bertram.

  Helena, a Gentlewoman protected by the Countess.

  An old Widow of Florence.

  Diana, daughter to the Widow.

  Violenta, neighbour and friend to the Widow.

  Mariana, neighbour and friend to the Widow.

  Lords attending on the King; Officers; Soldiers, &c., French and Florentine.

  ACT I

  SCENE I. ROUSILLON. THE COUNT’S PALACE.

  Enter Bertram, the Countess of Rousillon, Helena, and Lafeu, all in black

  Countess

  In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

  Bertram

  And I in going, madam, weep o’er my father’s death anew: but I must attend his majesty’s command, to whom I am now in ward, evermore in subjection.

  Lafeu

  You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father: he that so generally is at all times good must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted rather than lack it where there is such abundance.

  Countess

  What hope is there of his majesty’s amendment?

  Lafeu

  He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

  Countess

  This young gentlewoman had a father,— O, that ‘had’! how sad a passage ’tis!— whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king’s sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king’s disease.

  Lafeu

  How called you the man you speak of, madam?

  Countess

  He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon.

  Lafeu

  He was excellent indeed, madam: the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly: he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

  Bertram

  What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

  Lafeu

  A fistula, my lord.

  Bertram

  I heard not of it before.

  Lafeu

  I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?

  Countess

  His sole child, my lord, and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises; her dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too; in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty and achieves her goodness.

  Lafeu

  Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

  Countess

  ’Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it.

  Helena

  I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

  Lafeu

  Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

  Countess

  If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

  Bertram

  Madam, I desire your holy wishes.

  Lafeu

  How understand we that?

  Countess

  Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father

  In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue

  Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness

  Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,

  Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy

  Rather in power than use, and keep thy friend

  Under thy own life’s key: be cheque’d for silence,

  But never tax’d for speech. What heaven more will,

  That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down,

  Fall on thy head! Farewell, my lord;

  ’Tis an unseason’d courtier; good my lord,

  Advise him.

  Lafeu

  He cannot want the best

  That shall attend his love.

  Countess

  Heaven bless him! Farewell, Bertram.

  Exit />
  Bertram

  [To Helena] The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

  Lafeu

  Farewell, pretty lady: you must hold the credit of your father.

  Exeunt Bertram and Lafeu

  Helena

  O, were that all! I think not on my father;

  And these great tears grace his remembrance more

  Than those I shed for him. What was he like?

  I have forgot him: my imagination

  Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.

  I am undone: there is no living, none,

  If Bertram be away. ’Twere all one

  That I should love a bright particular star

  And think to wed it, he is so above me:

  In his bright radiance and collateral light

  Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.

  The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:

  The hind that would be mated by the lion

  Must die for love. ’Twas pretty, though plague,

  To see him every hour; to sit and draw

  His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,

  In our heart’s table; heart too capable

  Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:

  But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy

  Must sanctify his reliques. Who comes here?

  Enter Parolles

  [Aside] One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;

  And yet I know him a notorious liar,

  Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;

  Yet these fixed evils sit so fit in him,

  That they take place, when virtue’s steely bones

  Look bleak i’ the cold wind: withal, full oft we see

  Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.

  Parolles

  Save you, fair queen!

  Helena

  And you, monarch!

  Parolles

  No.

  Helena

  And no.

  Parolles

  Are you meditating on virginity?

  Helena

  Ay. You have some stain of soldier in you: let me ask you a question. Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him?

  Parolles

  Keep him out.

  Helena

  But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant, in the defence yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

  Parolles

  There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you and blow you up.

  Helena

  Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy, how virgins might blow up men?