diff options
268 files changed, 66268 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1430-0.txt b/1430-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4f14c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7029 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 *** +BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE + +By E. Nesbit + + + + + “It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has + been imitated by all succeeding writers; and it may be + doubted whether from all his successors more maxims of + theoretical knowledge, or more rules of practical prudence + can be collected than he alone has given to his country.”-- + Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + + + + +PREFACE + + + +The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the +purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + +Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere +science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the +whole body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, +generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little +stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and +proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the +English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage +which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though +often unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, +wrote of him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the +highroad of human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths +of feeling and sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, +sentimental thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant +adventuresses--no delicate entanglements of situation, in which +the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised under the +superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He flattered no bad +passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, trifled with no just +and generous principle. While causing us to laugh at folly, and shudder +at crime, he still preserves our love for our fellow-beings, and our +reverence for ourselves. + +Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with +all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of +that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and +clear waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland +solitudes, and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of +poetry,--and with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to +mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in +the midst of his most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of +sunshine on rocks and ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or +repulsive, and reminding us of the existence of purer and brighter +elements. + +These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of +Shakespeare, next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the +classics of English literature. “So extensively have the characters of +Shakespeare been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” + says an American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the +great body of English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of +these dramas is often a cause of embarrassment.” + +But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in +words that little folks cannot understand. + +Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained +in the plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can +understand and enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of +these Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare. + +And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any +unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared +and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. +To which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified +in alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the +world's greatest dramatist. + +E. T. R. + + + + +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. + + + +In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, +a market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, +1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. +The entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + +The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three +days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this +fact. + +The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always +spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is +spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist +it reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is +printed “Shakespeare.” + +Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in +which the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, +and in the council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is +introduced one hundred and sixty-six times during the period that +the dramatist's father was a member of the municipal body, there are +fourteen different spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among +them. + +Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have +been unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of +ten were content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not +specially to his discredit. + +The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation +of Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a +woolstapler, and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have +been all of these simultaneously or at different times, or that if +he could not properly be called any one of them, the nature of his +occupation was such as to make it easy to understand how the various +traditions sprang up. He was a landed proprietor and cultivator of his +own land even before his marriage, and he received with his wife, who +was Mary Arden, daughter of a country gentleman, the estate of Asbies, +56 acres in extent. William was the third child. The two older than he +were daughters, and both probably died in infancy. After him was born +three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve years at least, after +Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in easy circumstances. In +the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief magistrate of Stratford, +and for many years afterwards he held the position of alderman as he +had done for three years before. To the completion of his tenth year, +therefore, it is natural to suppose that William Shakespeare would get +the best education that Stratford could afford. The free school of the +town was open to all boys and like all the grammar-schools of that time, +was under the direction of men who, as graduates of the universities, +were qualified to diffuse that sound scholarship which was once the +boast of England. There is no record of Shakespeare's having been at +this school, but there can be no rational doubt that he was educated +there. His father could not have procured for him a better education +anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's works without being +influenced by the old traditional theory that he had received a very +narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must have been +solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught in the +grammar schools. + +There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not +be without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. +Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic +towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the +grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of +singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut +out from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great +highway, and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its +markets. The eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for +observation. But nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his +birth to his marriage to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date +nothing but the birth of three children until we find him an actor in +London about 1589. + +How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have +no means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very +soon after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which +he is known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter +older plays not up to the standard that was required at the time was +a common practice even among the best dramatists of the day, and +Shakespeare's abilities would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted +for this kind of work. When the alterations in plays originally composed +by other writers became very extensive, the work of adaptation would +become in reality a work of creation. And this is exactly what we have +examples of in a few of Shakespeare's early works, which are known to +have been founded on older plays. + +It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's +greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the +finest minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers +to an elucidation of their worth. + +Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had +died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived +him till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven +years. His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, +in 1607, married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of +this marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first +Thomas Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by +either marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of +February, 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by +whom she had three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There +are thus no direct descendants of Shakespeare. + +Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him +in other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, +but their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the +man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He +was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on +the second day after his death, on the north side of the chancel +of Stratford church. Over his grave there is a flat stone with this +inscription, said to have been written by himself: + + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare + To digg the dust encloased heare: + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, + And curst be he yt moves my bones. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . 7 + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + THE TEMPEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + AS YOU LIKE IT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + THE WINTER'S TALE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + KING LEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 + TWELFTH NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + PERICLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 + HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 + CYMBELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + TIMON OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + MEASURE FOR MEASURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 + TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES . . . . . . . . 286 + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES . . . . . . . 20 + THE QUARREL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 + HELENA IN THE WOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL . . . . . . . . . 30 + TITANIA AWAKES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 + PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . 36 + PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . 39 + PLAYING CHESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 + ROSALIND AND CELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN . . . . . . . . 47 + GANYMEDE FAINTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 + LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 + LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . 60 + FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING . . . . . . . . . 62 + HERMOINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 + CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE . . . . . . . . 67 + GONERIL AND REGAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 + CORDELIA IN PRISON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 + VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA . . . . . . . . 76 + “YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE” . . . . . . . . . . 78 + CLAUDIA AND HERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + HERO AND URSULA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + BENEDICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 + FRIAR FRANCIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 + MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . 111 + THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD . . . . . . . . . 115 + ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 + PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT . . . . . . . . 122 + PERICLES AND MARINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 + THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS . . . . . . . . . . . 131 + POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . 135 + DROWNING OF OPHELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 + IACHIMO AND IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 + IMOGEN STUPEFIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 + IMOGEN AND LEONATUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 + THE THREE WITCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + FROM “MACBETH” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 + LADY MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + KING AND QUEEN MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 + MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . . . . 175 + THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . 178 + AEMILIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 + THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 + ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 + JESSICA LEAVING HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 + BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING . . . . . . . . . 192 + POET READING TO TIMON . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE . . . . . . . 197 + “NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX” . . . . . . . . . . 200 + TIMON GROWS SULLEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 + OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES . . . 211 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 + THE DRINK OF WINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 + CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF . . . . . . . . 222 + DESDEMONA WEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 + THE MUSIC MASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 + KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS . . . . . . 232 + PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER . . . . 235 + THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS . . . . . . . . 244 + ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO . . . . . . . . . 247 + “YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE” . . . . . . . 253 + VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA . . . . . 258 + SILVIA READING THE LETTER . . . . . . . . . . 259 + THE SERENADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 + ONE OF THE OUTLAWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 + HELENA AND BERTRAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + HELENA AND THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 + READING BERTRAM'S LETTER . . . . . . . . . . . 281 + HELENA AND THE WIDOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 + + + + +LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES + + PAGE + WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + FERDINAND AND MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . . . . . . . 54 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + CHOOSING THE CASKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + + + + + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + +Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to marry +another man, named Demetrius. + +Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any +girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put +to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as +he wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to +ask that she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke +gave her four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if +she still refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + +Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to +do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place +beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and +marry her. But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she +was going to do. + +Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart long before his marriage with +Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous +people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia's fault that +Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. She knew +that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she was, to the +wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow him, and +at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to him, and +betrayed her friend's secret. + +Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two +had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if +one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were +the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies +are very wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as +mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the +days were long, had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They +never met without saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded +each other so dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for +fear, would creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + +So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in +the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered +through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in +another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom +Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to +follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give +him up. + +On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the +fairies met. + +“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + +“What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with +your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with +him now.” + +“It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + +“Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant +and suitor.” + +“Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys +not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + +And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + +“Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you +leave this wood.” + +Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of +mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and +get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer +sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at +them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to +sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going +to drink. + +“Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called +Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the +eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the +first thing they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on +my Titania's eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she +sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a +busy ape.” + +While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor +Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all +his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love +her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor +Helena, and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow +Demetrius and put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love +Helena when he woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So +Puck set off, and wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but +Lysander, on whose eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw +not his own Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking +for the cruel Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left +his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. + +When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the wood +trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what he had done, +and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and set about looking +for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the juice on his eyes. +And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also Helena. So now +Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the wood, and it +was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done before. The +end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and +Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme +to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + +“These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night +with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the +other. When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this +other herb on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his +old love. Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will +all think that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when +this is done, all will be well with them.” + +So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep +without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, +and said:-- + + “When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill.” + +Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild thyme, +oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There +Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin +of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, +saying:-- + + “What thou seest when thou wake, + Do it for thy true love take.” + +Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was a +stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood +to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped +an ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. +Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What +angel is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + +“If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for +me,” said the foolish clown. + +“Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the +love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful +and delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. +“Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + +So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, +and Mustardseed. + +“You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with +apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. +Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of +painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + +“I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + +“Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke +your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and +kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + +“Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not +care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having +fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + +“Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + +“Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle +yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + +“Ready,” said Mustardseed. + +“Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. +I must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the +face.” + +“Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + +“I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's +head made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + +“Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + +“I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. +“But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to +sleep.” + +Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + +And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing +kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey's head. + +And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to +give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took +pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her +pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed +clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + +Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish +his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + +Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved +each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and +Helena had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + +As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could +meet in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + +So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the +fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this +very day. + + + + +THE TEMPEST + + + +Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who lived +among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his brother +Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was +ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, +to gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the +people bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, +Alonso, King of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom +with all its honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, +and when they were far away from land, forced him into a little boat +with no tackle, mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his +little daughter, Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with +him, and sailed away, leaving them to their fate. + +But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful +master, Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but +much could be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy +lord, whose name was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh +water, provisions, and clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, +some of his precious books. + +The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed +in safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under +the spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks +of trees all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before +Prospero was cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was +the chief, still remained in their prisons. + +Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost +entirely to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed +his brother to manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the +imprisoned spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were +more truly his subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he +treated them kindly as long as they did his bidding, and he exercised +his power over them wisely and well. One creature alone he found it +necessary to treat with harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the +wicked old witch, a hideous, deformed monster, horrible to look on, and +vicious and brutal in all his habits. + +When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it +chanced that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and +Ferdinand, his son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their +ship came near Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, +raised by his art a great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave +themselves up for lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped +into the sea, and, as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But +Ariel brought him safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although +they were washed overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of +the island, and the good ship herself, which they all thought had been +wrecked, lay at anchor in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such +wonders could Prospero and his spirits perform. + +While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero showed his daughter the brave +ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and told her that it was filled +with living human beings like themselves. She, in pity of their lives, +prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. Then her father bade +her to have no fear, for he intended to save every one of them. + +Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, +and that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, +Antonio and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his +hands. + +When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for +Ariel was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed +for his complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being +threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when +Sycorax ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the +master who had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and +promised faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + +“Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + +Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search +of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near +him, singing the while-- + + “Come unto these yellow sands + And then take hands: + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + (The wild waves whist), + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + +And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a +solemn air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his +eyes, for thus they ran-- + + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made. + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + +And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of +Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. +For Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen +any human being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with +reverence in her eyes, and love in her secret heart. + +“I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I +ever saw so noble!” + +And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + +“Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + +Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for +scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to +make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly +delighted, pretended wrath. + +“You come here as a spy,” he said to Ferdinand. “I will manacle your +neck and feet together, and you shall feed on fresh water mussels, +withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to drink. Follow.” + +“No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero +charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and +Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he +harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There +he set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of +timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his +toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + +She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would +not let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and +she, hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + +Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he +gave his consent to their marriage. + +“Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + +In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island +were plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand +being dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on +Alonso's death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose +while their victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + +Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and +just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder +and lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet +disappeared. Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + +Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his +cell, where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly +repenting them of their sins. + +Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound +I'll drown my book.” + +So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in +his proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he +forgave them and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly +committed him and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. +Alonso, who seemed sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented +the loss of his heir. But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them +Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet +his loved son again, and when he heard that the fair maid with whom +Ferdinand was playing was Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks +had plighted their troth, he said-- + +“Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart that +doth not wish you joy.” + +So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they +all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. +Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the +rejoicings at the wedding. + +Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own +dukedom, where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. +He practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not +only because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his +bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took +no vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + +As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander +where he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer, merrily: + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + + + + +AS YOU LIKE IT + + + +There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom that +should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His +brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold +forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + +The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, remained with Celia, Frederick's +daughter, and the two loved each other more than most sisters. One day +there was a wrestling match at Court, and Rosalind and Celia went to see +it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was there, who had killed many men +in contests of this kind. Orlando, the young man he was to wrestle with, +was so slender and youthful, that Rosalind and Celia thought he would +surely be killed, as others had been; so they spoke to him, and asked +him not to attempt so dangerous an adventure; but the only effect of +their words was to make him wish more to come off well in the encounter, +so as to win praise from such sweet ladies. + +Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance +by his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until +he saw Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now +the sight of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that +he did marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the +wrestler had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased +with his courage, and asked his name. + +“My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + +Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to +the banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando +was, and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that +this handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and +as they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another +kind word to the brave young man. + +“Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for +me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + +Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the +handsome wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first +sight. + +“Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + +“Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than +myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + +“With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + +“You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she +asked. + +“Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you are banished. If within ten +days you are found within twenty miles of my Court, you die.” + +So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest +of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was +rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as +a young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said +that she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very +tired when at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were +sitting on the grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede +asked him if he could get them food. He did so, and told them that +a shepherd's flocks and house were to be sold. They bought these and +settled down as shepherd and shepherdess in the forest. + +In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's +life, Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the +rightful Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando +could think of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest +carving her name on trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on +the bushes, and there Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met +them, but he did not know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked +the pretty shepherd youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her +he loved. + +“There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and +hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him +of his folly.” + +Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If +you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I +will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, +till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + +And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to +her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had +the fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the +right ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + +One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep +on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for +the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on +anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and +saw that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his +life. He fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's +life. + +While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, +whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk +of his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged +Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The +lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to +see the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + +Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena +was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she +fell in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger +Orlando had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said +truly enough, “I should have been a woman by right.” + +Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love +Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and +live here as a shepherd.” + +“Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke +and his friends.” + +When Orlando told Ganymede how his brother was to be married on the +morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness +through another man's eyes.” + +Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his +voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother +marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + +Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, +and Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + +Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter +Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the +Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + +“And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. +“That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + +Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's +clothes again, and after a while came back. + +She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + +Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + +“I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to +Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + +So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they +lived happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For +Frederick had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, +and so gave back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a +monastery to pray for forgiveness. + +The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A +shepherd and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she +was herself disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and +all with such pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere +within four walls, but only in the beautiful green wood. + + + + +THE WINTER'S TALE + + + +Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, +King of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated +when they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over +his kingdom. After many years, when each was married and had a son, +Polixenes came to stay with Leontes in Sicily. + +Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into +his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than +she did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, +nothing could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to +put a poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this +wicked action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. +He then told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from +the Court of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo +lived on as Polixenes' friend and counselor. + +Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the +throne, died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly +treated. + +While the Queen was in prison she had a little baby, and a friend of +hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in its best, and took it to +show the King, thinking that the sight of his helpless little daughter +would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, who had never done him +any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than he deserved; but the +King would not look at the baby, and ordered Paulina's husband to take +it away in a ship, and leave it in the most desert and dreadful place +he could find, which Paulina's husband, very much against his will, was +obliged to do. + +Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring +Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except +Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, +Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But +he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that +they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + +“Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, +Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if +that which is lost be not found.” + +Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The +poor Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how +wicked and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were +with the Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina +came back in a few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + +Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his folly. His Queen was dead, +and the little daughter who might have been a comfort to him he had sent +away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life had nothing left for him +now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed many sad years in +prayer and remorse. + +The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom +where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell +Leontes where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the +ship, he met a bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + +But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was +richly dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to +her cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble +parents. + +The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to +his wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more +teaching than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from +her royal mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different +from the other maidens in the village where she lived. + +One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was +bunting near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a +charming woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that +he was the Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he +was a private gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty +Perdita, he came almost daily to see her. + +The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every +day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that +the heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty +shepherd girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, +disguised himself, and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise +too, to the old shepherd's house. They arrived at the feast of +sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, they were made very welcome. +There was dancing going on, and a peddler was selling ribbons and laces +and gloves, which the young men bought for their sweethearts. + +Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, +but sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners +and great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of +his old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + +“This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green +sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than +herself--too noble for this place.” + +And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + +But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the +strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King +made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw +Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and +with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed +with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + +Camillo had long known how sorry Leontes was for that foolish madness of +his, and he longed to go back to Sicily to see his old master. He now +proposed that the young people should go there and claim the protection +of Leontes. So they went, and the shepherd went with them, taking +Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and the paper he had found pinned to +her cloak. + +Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince +Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was +like the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + +“Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly +sent her from me.” + +When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who +had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the +child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told +his tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that +Perdita was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and +rewarded the good shepherd. + +Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with +Perdita, but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, +he was only too glad to give his consent. + +Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, +who should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's +happiness, was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for +a long time but-- + +“Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of +Bohemia, and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, +and then thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + +Then Paulina, who had been high all these years in the King's favor, +because of her kindness to the dead Queen Hermione, said--“I have a +statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a piece many years in +doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, Giulio Romano. I keep +it in a private house apart, and there, ever since you lost your Queen, +I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please your Majesty to go and +see the statue?” + +So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and +their attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple +curtain screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the +curtain, said-- + +“She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead +likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand +of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it +is--behold, and say, 'tis well.” + +And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The +King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said +nothing. + +“I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. +But speak, is it not like her?” + +“It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was +not so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + +“Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + +“Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her +to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + +And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + +“If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have +stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + +But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + +“No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it +moves.” + +“Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + +“I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives +presently.” + +“Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, “make me to think so twenty years +together.” + +“If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make +it come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by +wicked magic.” + +“Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + +And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from +its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's +neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was +no statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived +hidden, by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover +herself to her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she +could not quite forgive him till she knew what had become of her little +baby. + +Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it +was like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + +Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + +To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment +when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love +around him once again. + + + + +KING LEAR + + + +King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his +kingdom, and wished only to end his days quietly near his three +daughters. Two of his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany +and Cornwall; and the Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both +suitors for the hand of Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + +Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed +to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like +to know how much you love me.” + +Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father +at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him +dearer than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, +beauty, and honor. + +“I love you as much as my sister and more,” professed Regan, “since I +care for nothing but my father's love.” + +Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his +youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he +said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you +say?” + +“Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + +“Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + +And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no +more, no less.” + +And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her +sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of +duty to their old father. + +“I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved +me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, +love you, and most honor you.” + +Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished her to make more extravagant +professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” he said, “be for ever a +stranger to my heart and me.” + +The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried +to say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided +the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only +keep a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by +turns. + +When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the +kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was +wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, +and our fair France.” + +“Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of +hers again.” + +So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having +ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now +went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her +father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred +knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful +to him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended +that they did not hear them. + +Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would +go into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of +a servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two +friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his +Fool, who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his +knights only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she +begged him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + +“My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I +will not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + +And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the +castle of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in +professions of attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in +undutiful conduct, saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on +him, and Goneril (who had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any +kindness to the old King) said five were too many, since her servants +could wait on him. + +Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, +he left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the +heath half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. +But presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last +persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the +Earl of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court +of France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + +Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. +Here she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a +crown of nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed +him, and Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + +“You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and +foolish.” + +And now he knew at last which of his children it was that had loved him +best, and who was worthy of his love. + +Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were +successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then +Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not +known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and +when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she +was, she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly +poison to her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + +But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and +though the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The +old King came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying +the body of his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + +And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with +her still in his arms, and died. + + + + +TWELFTH NIGHT + + + +Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful +Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained +his suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the +Duke, bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not +let the very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk +veiled; and all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she +would keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance. + +The Duke longed for someone to whom he could tell his sorrow, and repeat +over and over again the story of his love. And chance brought him such a +companion. For about this time a goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian +coast, and among those who reached land in safety were the captain and +a fair young maid, named Viola. But she was little grateful for being +rescued from the perils of the sea, since she feared that her twin +brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to her as the heart in her +bosom, and so like her that, but for the difference in their manner of +dress, one could hardly be told from the other. The captain, for her +comfort, told her that he had seen her brother bind himself “to a strong +mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus there was hope that he +might be saved. + +Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young +Duke Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, +she decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment +with him as a page. + +In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the +story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, +but soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that +his hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad +to woo Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when +she came to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious +man, sick, as his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger +admittance. + +Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, +and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her +instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, +“We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + +When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent +away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger +from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the +supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some +love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + +“He left this ring behind him,” she said, taking one from her finger. +“Tell him I will none of it.” + +Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly +well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness +that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart +for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + +It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease +the pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario +stood by his side. + +“Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + +“A little,” answered Viola. + +“What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + +“Of your complexion,” she answered. + +“What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + +To this came the pretty answer, “About your years, my lord.” + +“Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder +than herself.” + +And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + +By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead +his love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + +“If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + +“Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + +“But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My +father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, +“perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + +“And what is her history?” he asked. + +“A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let +concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she +pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like +Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + +“But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, +who had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty +fashion, said-- + +“I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall +I go to the lady?” + +“To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the +story, “and give her this jewel.” + +So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, +and openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her +hastily, saying-- + +“Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + +But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel +for other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, +sent a messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no +heart to refuse the request. + +But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the +jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who +at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. +This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew +to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel +between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced +Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The +poor page, in great terror, said-- + +“I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + +“Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me +first.” + +And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to +await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in +a great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her +sword, and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for +them both, at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, +and stopped the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she +might, while Sir Toby called after her-- + +“A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + +Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all +the dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he +determined to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he +passed Olivia's house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and +whom should he meet but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking +Sebastian for the cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and +walking up to him struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + +“Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting +back a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to +the rescue of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir +Toby's clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but +that Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and +with many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning +to Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with +many a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + +Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, +readily consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, +they were married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or +Sebastian was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + +Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her +himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her +door, and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for +leaving her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and +wholesome to her as howling after music. + +“Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + +“Still so constant,” she answered. + +Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on +her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said +to the page. + +And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a +thousand deaths would die.” + +A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, +husband, stay!” + +“Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + +“No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + +“Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + +And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared +Cesario to be the bridegroom. + +“O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, +but go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + +At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that +Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + +“I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on +me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + +Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their +thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + +“I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. +Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + +“One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, +looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + +“An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin +than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + +“I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind +waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, +“I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, +drowned Viola!'” + +Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she +was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is +akin to love. + +“Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never +shouldst love woman like to me.” + +“And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those +swearings keep true.” + +“Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, +and my fancy's queen.” + +Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian +a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving +wife. + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + +In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious +storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + +It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had +gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence +they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of +war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his +stepbrother Don John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + +Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. +Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in +love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + +One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in +a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated +through the open window. + +“Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” Claudio, asked, and Borachio +settled himself for comfortable listening. + +“Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her +color or height, and you spoil her.” + +“In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + +“Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She +is like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you +set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + +Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and +severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She +was wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not +therefore be dull. + +Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said +good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + +“I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to +tell.” + +“I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, +falling in with his humor. + +“I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his +Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love +with Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + +Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When +Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love +for Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a +masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio +loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his +consent to your union.” + +Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a +Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to +plead for you. + +Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he +had an enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's +stepbrother Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro +preferred him to Don John. + +It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation +which he had overheard. + +“I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when +Borachio ceased speaking. + +On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was +Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + +They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, +“Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + +“I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your +influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is +beneath him in rank.” + +“How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + +“I heard him swear his affection,” was the reply, and Borachio chimed in +with, “So did I too.” + +Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince +had betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust +to an agent.” + +Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk +exchange of opinions. + +“Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + +“Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + +“A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I +would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the +Garden of Eden.” + +But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor +Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and +brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing +before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you +like to go to church?” + +“To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry +Hero.” + +“Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart +thumped with joy. + +“And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor +Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + +“I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + +Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband +for Beatrice.” + +Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio +a lesson for nothing. + +Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he +was confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was +a fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this +plan of hate. + +Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. +“If,” he said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to +overhear us, that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, +see his good qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we +don't know he is listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful +Beatrice should be in love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he +will certainly be on his knees before her in a week or less.” + +So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat +down outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something +about a letter she wrote.” + +“Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night +and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words +'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + +“Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + +Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was +vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. +“I must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of +course; but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + +At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my +will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + +“Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + +“I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the +rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + +But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of +her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + +Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took +no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one +day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are +talking about her in the orchard.” + +Having said this, she felt as sure that Beatrice would overhear what was +meant for her ears as if she had made an appointment with her cousin. + +In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and +Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + +“But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, +“that Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + +“So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me +to tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + +“Why did you say that?” + +“Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and +scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making +game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away +like a covered fire.” + +“I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too +clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in +Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + +The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, +stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, +be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + +We now return to the plan of hate. + +The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered +a room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio +if he intended to be married to-morrow. + +“You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + +“He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will +show him if he will follow me.” + +They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of +Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + +Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it +to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; +she was Margaret. + +Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the +garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + +The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the +street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, +and told what he had done. + +A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a +thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore +arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in +prison. + +Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at +church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her +wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining +eyes. + +The priest was Friar Francis. + +Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this +lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + +Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, +Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + +Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be +married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + +“If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to +utter it,” said the Friar. + +“Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + +“Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, +'None,'” said Leonato. + +Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” + he continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied +Leonato, “as God gave her to me.” + +“And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this +gift?” “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the +giver.” + +“Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her +back.” + +These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don +Pedro and Don John. + +The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as +she could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except +her father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, +“Hence from her! Let her die!” + +But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the +soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + +Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew +not what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead +with shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, +and slander turns to remorse.” + +“The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a +retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + +Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do +believe your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + +“Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the +world as well as you?” + +“It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said +Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + +“Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + +“Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” + said Beatrice. “Farewell.” + +“Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + +During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were +examined by a constable called Dogberry. + +The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he +had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + +Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now +thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved +father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a +friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to +death, and I challenge you to combat.” + +“I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + +“You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + +Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were +feeling scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + +“The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + +“You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with +what weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + +Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I +can't carve a calf's head.” + +Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, +the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for +justice. + +The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + +“What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + +Borachio thought the moment a happy one for making a clean breast of it. +He laid the whole blame on Don John, who had disappeared. “The lady Hero +being dead,” he said, “I desire nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + +Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + +Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear +your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + +“Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may +impose.” + +“I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's +innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for +you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero +that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings +die.” + +“Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room +and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his +attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he +had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + +He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made +ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in +Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment. + +He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several +masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick +were present. + +Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + +“Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + +“Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + +“Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I +swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + +“Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + +“Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + +“Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + +The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick +interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is +Beatrice?” + +Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + +“Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + +“Moderately,” answered Benedick. + +“I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + +“Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + +“Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing +a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And +here,” said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the +pocket of Beatrice.” + +“A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! +Come, I will marry you, Beatrice.” + +“You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + +Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he +had married Claudio and Hero. + +“How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + +“Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you +will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but +as you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + +“My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; +but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + +And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was +able to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not +sweet against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu +and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, +in most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were +extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, +and instead of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of +pet of their quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu +wouldn't speak to a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet +to a Montagu--or if they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant +things, which often ended in a fight. And their relations and +servants were just as foolish, so that street fights and duels and +uncomfortablenesses of that kind were always growing out of the +Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + +Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper +and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to +it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named +Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he +loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and +he had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love +somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love +the wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends +Mercutio and Benvolio. + +Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young +Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their +velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars, and +the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones of price +set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, and though he +wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone could see by his +mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he was twelve +times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + +Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable +that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline +whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as +she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world +seemed vain and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying +this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing +his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at +once to his uncle, and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the +feast; but old Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to +any man under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young +man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + +In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in +sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent +for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his +heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. +So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + +Then Juliet said to her nurse: + +“Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + +“His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + +Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the +beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was +hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go +right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to +be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how +she loved Romeo. + +And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked +up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming +creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he +felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some +magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + +“Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what +does it matter what you are called?” + +“Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be +Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade +of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + +She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, +and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below +and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one +trying to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant +talk that lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music +their voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you +children may read it for yourselves some day. + +And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other +and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though +they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + +“I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + +And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + +Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. +Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + +The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, +and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet +without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + +So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he +purposed to do, the old woman took back a message that all was well, +and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next +morning. + +The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their +marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old quarrel +between the Capulets and the Montagues. + +And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, +because he thought that when they were once married their parents +might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old +quarrel. + +So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar +Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to +come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder +to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to +his dear wife quietly and alone. + +But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + +Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the +Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in +the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no +wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and +he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this +friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had +killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + +So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's +cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young +husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the +flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they +parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know +when they should meet again. + +Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, +wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she +refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. +He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + +“I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two +days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and +not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, +and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. +Will you do this, or are you afraid?” + +“I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home +and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and +told her father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a +different story. + +Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about +inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone +stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little +time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because +he saw she was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her +husband Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of +her cousin Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else +to think about. + +Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her +for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out +suddenly-- + +“Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was +born!” + +Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the +bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their +weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a +marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a +letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been +well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + +But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of the +marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her funeral, and +hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife was dead and lying in +the grave. + +“Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side +to-night.” + +And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He +hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a +vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps +that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a +voice behind him calling on him to stop. + +It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + +“How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you +vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + +Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + +“You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must +die.” + +“I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle +youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better +than myself--go--leave me here--” + +Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon,” and Romeo, +in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, and Paris was +killed. + +As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + +“Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with +Juliet!” + +And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + +And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear +Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held +her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, +while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her +awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and +wife. + +Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had +happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband +and her friend both dead beside her. + +The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and +Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She +saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and +since no poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust +it through her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's +breast, she died. And here ends the story of these faithful and most +unhappy lovers. + + * * * * * * * + +And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had +befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief +their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the +bodies of their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship +and forgiveness. + + + + +PERICLES + + + +Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an enemy of +Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great was the +danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty counselor, +Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a time. He +came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his father, +he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing Helicanus +Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving his +kingdom was soon made clear. + +Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from +Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The +faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked +lord, and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the +danger which threatened him. + +The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, +feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But +a dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel +was wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised +and wet and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of +Pentapolis, the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, +he looked for nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, +coming down to the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade +him be of good cheer. + +“Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have +flesh for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and +flapjacks, and thou shalt be welcome.” + +They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going +to the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his +daughter, the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + +“Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make +one there.” + +As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it +dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it +in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, +he blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, +which had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen +to let him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the +tournament, promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would +reward them well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully +equipped, Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + +In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the +wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. +Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he +came; and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, +but he did not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he +knew that if once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life +would not be worth a pin's purchase. + +Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with +his courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter +to have her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger +knight or die. + +Thus Pericles became the husband of the fair lady for whose sake he +had striven with the knights who came in all their bravery to joust and +tourney for her love. + +Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, +hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant +throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become +their King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. +Moreover, he sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing +Pericles. + +Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King +there, told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, +and that, Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from +returning to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law +who he really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly +rejoiced to know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his +own right. So Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. +But once more the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke +out, and while it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that +a little daughter was born to him. This news would have made his heart +glad indeed, but that the servant went on to add that his wife--his +dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + +While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, +the sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown +overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long +as a dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest +with spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote +these lines: + + “Here I give to understand + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + I, King Pericles, have lost + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a King; + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!” + +Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by and +by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of a +lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he +saw how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took +immediate steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, +who had been thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling +sure that she would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the +world, and became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + +While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his +little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at +sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, +the King sailed for his own dominions. + +Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and +wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more +accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to +take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of +her servants to take her away and kill her. This villain would have done +so, but that he was interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried +Marina off to sea with them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold +her as a slave. Yet such was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, +that she soon became honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, +fell deep in love with her, and would have married her, but that he +thought she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in +his high position. + +The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was +really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it +to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see +his much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was +terrible to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed +never to wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion +erected on deck, and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke +word to none. + +At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and +Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel +came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he +bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King +from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade +the King to speak, promising whatever reward she would, if she +succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and +sang to her poor grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he +made no sign. So presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might +equal his, for, though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that +stood equal to mighty kings. + +Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked +up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his +lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her +tell her story. + +Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she was +and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles knew that +this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again and again, crying +that his great seas of joy drowned him with their sweetness. “Give me my +robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + +Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of +heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a +vision. + +“Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden +priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + +Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly +had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you +are--O royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently +recovering, she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” + “The voice of dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa +am I,” she said, and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very +truth. + +Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found +happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the +pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only +in being restored to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and +became a princess in the land where she had been sold as a slave. + + + + +HAMLET + + + +Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father and +mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named Ophelia. +Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + +While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young +Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung +the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so +tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, +before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined +to marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + +Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + +“It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my +loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least +remembers him, and grieves still.” + +Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of +course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + +“Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those +I love.” + +With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their +wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them +both. + +And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he +ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. +It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the +King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, +and could not accuse Claudius. + +And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, +from Wittenberg. + +“What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend +kindly. + +“I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + +“I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My +father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + +“My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + +Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with two +gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the battlements. +Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, the ghost of the +King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, appeared on the battlements +in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave youth. Instead of running +away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it beckoned him he followed +it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him that what he had +suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good +brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his +orchard in the afternoon. + +“And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked +brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and +she is your mother. Remember me.” + +Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + +“Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I +will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your +commands alone live on my brain.” + +So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of +the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled +dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered +father. + +The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost +mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, +he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended +madness in other matters. + +And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, +and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that +she could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not +believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she +told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the +letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love.” + +And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's supposed +madness was love. + +Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and +yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his +father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the +ghost spoke truly. + +Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them +to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play +was the story of a man who had been murdered in his garden by a near +relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife. + +You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his +throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, +acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And +when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the +sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the +room--the Queen and others following. + +Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + +“Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this +murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + +Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him +for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, +wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself +behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen +got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and +Polonius behind the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the +King who was hidden there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and +killed, not the King, but poor old Polonius. + +So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap +killed his true love's father. + +“Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this,” cried the Queen. + +And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and +marry his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts +and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more +friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good +King. And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, +but the Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + +When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, +he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed +the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our +plan, and send him away to England.” + +So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, +and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet +should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these +letters, and put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers +who were so ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, +Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left +him to his fate, and went on to meet theirs. + +Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. +Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits +too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, +and flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking +poor, foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one +day, coming to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery +garland on a willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and +so died. + +And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had made +him hide it; and when he came back, he found the King and Queen, and the +Court, weeping at the funeral of his dear love and lady. + +Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice +for the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he +leaped into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + +“I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt +into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + +Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + +“I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to +love her more than I.” + +But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes +how Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to +slay Hamlet by treachery. + +Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were +present. Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes +had prepared for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the +wicked King had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant +to give poor Hamlet when he should grow warm with the sword play, and +should call for drink. + +So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave +Hamlet a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for +they had been fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with +Laertes in a struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked +them up again, Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt +sword for Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he +pierced Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + +At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear +Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + +She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and +the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall +dead by his means. + +Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and +the two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found +courage to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, +if he had braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives +had been spared, and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well +deserved to die. + +Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, +turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + +“Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + +So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all +being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him +die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him +with their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of +Denmark. + + + + +CYMBELINE + + + +Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two sons +were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and he +was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second +time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's +playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married +him. This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish +Leonatus, banished him from Britain. + +Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was +not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, +but they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little +children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised +never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone +else as long as they lived. + +“This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, +and keep it as long as you love me.” + +“Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my +sake.” + +“Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + +And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and +Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + +When he was come to Rome, where he had gone to stay with an old friend +of his father's, he spent his days still in thinking of his dear Imogen, +and his nights in dreaming of her. One day at a feast some Italian and +French noblemen were talking of their sweethearts, and swearing that +they were the most faithful and honorable and beautiful ladies in the +world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how he had said many times that +his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and constant than any of the ladies +in France. + +“I say so still,” said Leonatus. + +“She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of +the Italian nobles. + +“She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + +“I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your +wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + +“That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my +finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that +my wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade +her to do otherwise.” + +So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's +finger, and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction +to Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all +kindness; but he was still determined to win his wager. + +He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to +tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently +perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave +her. Then he said-- + +“Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you +this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to +be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + +“I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + +“Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of +a trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some +other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + +“I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend +of my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care +of them.” + +“It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again +to-morrow.” + +So the trunk was carried into Imogen's room, and that night she went to +bed and to sleep. When she was fast asleep, the lid of the trunk opened +and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The story about the jewels was as +untrue as the rest of the things he had said. He had only wished to get +into her room to win his wicked wager. He looked about him and noticed +the furniture, and then crept to the side of the bed where Imogen +was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet which had been the +parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the trunk, and next +morning sailed for Rome. + +When he met Leonatus, he said-- + +“I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no +longer thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her +room, which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and +silver andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + +“I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed +talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the +servants.” + +“Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from +her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet +enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + +“Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have +won my life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has +forgotten me.” + +And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, +Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder +her, because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same +time he wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old +servant, to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to +meet her. + +Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its +orders, and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the +letter from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before +he left, the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be +useful in sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that +Imogen would die, and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the +Queen thought this drink was a poison, but really and truly it was only +a sleeping-draft. + +When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was +really in the letter he had had from her husband. + +“I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + +And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her +on her way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the +drink he had had from the Queen. + +Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. +Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went +in, and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw +there, and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the +cave. She was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought +that they would be angry with her for taking their food, though she +had meant to leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they +welcomed her kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her +face was good, as well as pretty. + +“You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with +them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one +day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with +the two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine +Pisanio had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead +creature, so that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, +they thought she was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they +carried her away and laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + +They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale +primroses, and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and +went away sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not +knowing how she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through +the wood. + +Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to +attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, +who had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come +back, not to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons +against Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the +Roman General, and took service with him as his page. + +When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and +his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as +a British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline +prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued +the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners +brought before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, +who had put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life +since he had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, +as a Roman soldier, he would be put to death. + +When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + +“A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so +be it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let +him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, +true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save +him, Sir.” + +Then Cymbeline looked on the page, who was his own daughter, Imogen, in +disguise, and though he did not recognize her, he felt such a kindness +that he not only spared the boy's life, but he said-- + +“He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a +prisoner, the noblest taken.” + +Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from +whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + +“Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + +Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was +unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he +came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's +lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed +dead. + +“Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + +Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my +lord--here, here!” + +Leonatus turned to strike the forward page who thus interfered in his +great trouble, and then he saw that it was his wife, Imogen, and they +fell into each other's arms. + +The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to +the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he +gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, +and the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + +“I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had +only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole +your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two +boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a +boy like themselves. + +The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with +his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + +So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever +after. So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the +world's end. + + + + +MACBETH + + + +When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two +stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of +Scotland by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly +and well, on the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part +of Scottish history. The other story issues from a place called +Imagination; it is gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + +A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a +battle was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals +named Macbeth and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together +towards Forres, in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was +awaiting them. + +While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, +sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + +“Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + +Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou +shalt be the father of kings.” + +“Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of +Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his +children live. Speak, I charge you!” + +The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the +air. + +Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, +and were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of +them thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and +the other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + +Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title +was to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch +called me, 'King that is to be.'” + +“Banquo,” he said, “you see that the witches spoke truth concerning me. +Do you not believe, therefore, that your child and grandchild will be +kings?” + +Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he +deemed it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. +He told Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them +both into villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, +however, thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to +keep to himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + +Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died +in defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by +whose order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder +of bitter wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she +read his letter, she was determined that he should be King. + +When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in +Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + +She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend +a sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are +blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, +with his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared +his guest. + +“Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have +thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + +“I dare do all that may become a man,” replied Macbeth; “who dare do +more is none.” + +“Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with +bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she +showed him how to do it. + +After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at +his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were +stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King +herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + +Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon +with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a +voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + +“Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the +grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + +“I dare not,” said Macbeth. + +His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a +heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + +The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking +which could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain +of Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to +him, and showed him the door of the King's room. + +Macduff entered, and came out again crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + +Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he +could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms +with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + +These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. +One of Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was +King. But he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed +his mind. If Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. +Macbeth determined, therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He +hired two ruffians, who slew Banquo one night when he was on his way +with Fleance to a banquet which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. +Fleance escaped. + +Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, +and he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of +times since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on +both.” + +“We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but +ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall +and sat in Macbeth's place. + +Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, +he could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry +of Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + +The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's +ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + +But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a +form of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have +done this?” + +Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou +canst not say I did it.” + +The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass +of wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend +Banquo, whom we miss.” + +The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + +“Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the +earth, thou horrible shadow.” + +Again none saw the ghost but he. + +“What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + +The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She +hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow +worse if he was obliged to talk. + +Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches +whose prophecies had so depraved him. + +He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round +a cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible +creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + +“Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + +“Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first +witch. + +“Call them,” replied Macbeth. + +Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the +flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so +that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + +He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He +knows thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware +Macduff, the chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the +cauldron till it disappeared. + +“One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + +“He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned +child ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child +said-- + + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + +“That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's +descendants would ever rule Scotland. + +The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of +phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In +each king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + +Then he was suddenly left alone. + +His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They +did not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave +a stinging answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou +liest!” shouted Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and +with his last breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not +leave the castle while one of its inmates remained alive. + +Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of +cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell +him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not +speak the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers +relieved by royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said +that England was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross +blurted out his news, and Macduff cried, “All dead, did you say? All my +pretty ones and their mother? Did you say all?” + +His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into +Macbeth's castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force +more solemn than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was +mad. She walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash +her hands for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, +would still see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to +hear her cry that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her +little hand. + +“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the +doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own +mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the +dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + +One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and +said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered +Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of +air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + +Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. +Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he +had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + +From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed +appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held aloft a +bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like human trees +they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + +Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and +the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single +combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when +Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; +I have spilt too much of your blood already.” + +“My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade +him yield. + +“I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + +Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a +King's head by the hair. + +“Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + +So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the +descendants of Banquo were kings. + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + +AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His +wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, +and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the +Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had +been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were +exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the +same. + +And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where +these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born +to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were +the parents of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the +other twins. + +AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, +and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed +homewards. + +They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the +crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of +their passengers. + +AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the +slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining +children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and +hoped for safety. + +The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and +AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from +AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by +some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the +babies from her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very +miserable. Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia +Minor. + +AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than +AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were +eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he +called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the +children who floated away from him. + +At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a +desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and +the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio +of Syracuse. + +Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled +for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the news of +Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + +As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was +arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of +Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky +enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had +angrily passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand +pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought +before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a +thousand pounds before the end of the day. + +You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children +who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of +Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of +Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and +Dromio of Ephesus. + +Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of +Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in +order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of +Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till +he came. + +In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, +his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. +“Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked +Antipholus of Syracuse. + +This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on +the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that +his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he +asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without +delay. His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he +had not fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found +that his gold had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + +He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him +with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and +Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and +she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio +of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, +you may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was +really her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet +unless I said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + +“Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not +know you.” + +“Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent +Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; +I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine +with me and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + +They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of +disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where +a very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + +They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio +demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by +heart. + +From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was +Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + +Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and +finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his +wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to +another woman. + +Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be +her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone +with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he +was not married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a +mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her +floating golden hair. + +Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to +Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be +seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + +Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo +the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which +he had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + +The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated +his “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took +the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He +offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + +The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor of the +sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest unless he paid +his debt immediately. This creditor had brought a police officer with +him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of +the house where he had been dining because he had been locked out of The +Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay when Antipholus denied receipt of +the chain. Angelo could have sent his mother to prison if she had said +that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus in charge. + +At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus +that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. +To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He +would gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly +telling him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband +a purse of money which she would find in his desk. + +Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had +been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from +getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master +immediately. + +Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his +real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what +he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further +surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he +had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of +Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. +“Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she +received. + +Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was +to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger +when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch +a purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the +slave in the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; +and his temper did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived +under the impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He +raged so much that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of +Adriana spared him this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of +him, and asked the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + +Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again, +and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the odd +behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” said the merchant at last, +“that's he, I think.” + +It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, +and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly +pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the +chain he had the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his +temper, and drew his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several +others appeared. “Hold!” shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is +mad. Take his sword away. Bind him--and Dromio too.” + +Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, +“Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + +They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + +Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, +and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + +“To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + +Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was +mad. + +Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, +for the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that +if her husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the +present. + +Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and +behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two +others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had +not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + +Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a +woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing +his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + +The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the +order than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that +his master had singed off the doctor's beard. + +“Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + +“As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + +Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his +brother of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, +“Justice, most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to +Adriana. “She has treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + +Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, “Unless I am delirious, I see my +son Antipholus.” + +No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the +doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang +who tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he +had escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + +The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was +seen to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked +Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw +my father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to +the brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to +acknowledge me in misery.” + +Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and +Dromio of Syracuse. + +Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and +Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + +It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by +paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I +am thy wife AEmilia.” + +The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + +So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband +reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in +the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. +Will you be my wife?” + +Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + +The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + + + + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + +Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were +on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with +England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very +generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of +his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + +Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless +and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his +fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio +for further help. + +“To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I +have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + +“Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + +Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all +quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because +she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked +on me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should +win her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to +Belmont, where she lives.” + +“All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready +money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for +you what you need.” + +There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named +Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated +him with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a +cur, over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted +to all these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he +cherished a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio +both hurt his pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought +Shylock, “I should be richer by half a million ducats. On the market +place, and wherever he can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, +and--worse than that--he lends out money freely.” + +So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats +to Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to +Antonio, said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with +you and have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no +interest. But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be +agreed that if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall +have the right to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of +your body I choose.” + +“No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + +“Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the +time. I will sign the bond.” + +Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to +woo the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's +pretty daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her +lover, and she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of +ducats and precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to +see. His love for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my +feet and the jewels in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in +hearing of the serious losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose +ships were wrecked. “Let him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him +look to his bond.” + +Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. +He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and +beauty had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them +Portia had but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would +pledge himself to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were +conditions that frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would +win Portia's heart and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held +her portrait. If he guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if +wrong, then he was bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, +never to marry, and to go away at once. + +The caskets were of gold, silver, and lead. The gold one bore this +inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;” + the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he +deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who chooseth me +must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as brave as he +was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He chose the +gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could contain her +picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the likeness of +what many men desire--death. + +After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have +what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and +found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” + he cried. + +Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from +making his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved +him dearly, even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at +once, for, as I am, I live upon the rack.” + +Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant +lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the +caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he +said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and +so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; +joy be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait +inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + +“Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house is yours, and with them +I give you this ring, from which you must never part.” + +And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to +swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + +Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers +came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock +demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was +entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as +Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + +“First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then +go to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money +enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + +But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and +arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from +a celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in +to decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of +Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the +money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's +only answer was-- + + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + +It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her own +husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great +Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. +Then in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her +entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + +“What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + +“But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + +“The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the +money-lender. + +“Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A sentence: come, prepare.” + +“Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only +to his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property +will be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + +And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + +“No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take +your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even +by the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + +Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats +that I lent him, and let him go.” + +Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have +nothing but his bond.” + +“You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to take the life of a +Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your life and goods are +forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + +Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to +Shylock had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender +forfeited half his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other +half on his daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + +Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part +with the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised +never to part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to +Portia, she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with +him until she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was +she who, in the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and +got the ring from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier +than ever, to know how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the +caskets. + + + + +TIMON OF ATHENS + + + +Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens +whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but +no worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If +anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. +If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was +offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he +would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in +front of Timon to receive double its market price. + +Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. +When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly +wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, +“There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those +singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a +night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of +his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees +them not!” + +Of course, Timon was much praised. + +A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect +till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon +gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, +“O, he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” + said another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; +and other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + +But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to +knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + +“You will die for that,” said Timon. + +“Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know +what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + +This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, +because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number +of acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not +shun them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, +and is inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + +Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, +after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + +Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and +the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise +man has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and +he did not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and +furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected +him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + +Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day +Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said +to his steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a +hundred, thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of +the world if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + +“Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius +because he had once got Ventidius out of prison by paying a creditor of +this young man. Ventidius was now rich. Timon trusted in his gratitude. +But not for all; so much did he owe! Servants were despatched with +requests for loans of money to several friends: + +One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus +said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last +night.” Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, +perfect gentleman, your master, eh?” + +“Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + +“And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, +jovially. + +“Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I +beg you to fill with money, sir.” + +“La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! +ha!” “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. +I've warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you +know this is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you +act like a good boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three +solidares for yourself.” + +“Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + +Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was +Sempronius. + +“Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is +beholden to him.” + +“He refused.” + +“Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + +“He refused.” + +“A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in +affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent +him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + +“Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + +When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of +a lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a +banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in +the least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and +said to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + +“I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said +Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + +“It was a real grief to me to be without ready money when he asked for +some,” said Sempronius. + +“The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + +Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies +and compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + +In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. +Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + +“Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the +gods of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are +our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men +love the joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain +twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. +Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!” + +The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. +They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, +they uncovered the dishes. + +There was nothing in them but warm water. + +“May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the +flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your +villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, +and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, +he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + +His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + +Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a +handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, +having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. +The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not +soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern +the fact that good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He +determined to see nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of +Ventidius and the meanness of Lucullus. + +He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the +earth for food. + +One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck +gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, +and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold +vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, +“will make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. +It will buy murder and bless the accursed.” + +He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached +with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but +pleasure. + +Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades +did not recognize him at first. + +“Who are you?” he asked. + +“A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + +Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon +would none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when +they found he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his +opinion of them, but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you +more?” + +With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + +“Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and +then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could +have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + +Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug +up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + +Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said +Apemantus. “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can +imitate.” + +“You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said +Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as +they ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + +“If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should throw myself away.” + +“You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a +good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + +“Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told +him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a +pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + +Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he +was sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him +with an evil wish. + +This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had +departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + +“You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + +“We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + +“No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it +poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + +He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full +pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that +day of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried +he. + +“Away! What are you?” said Timon. + +“Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + +“I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you +are a man, I have forgotten you.” + +“I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + +“Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + +Flavius began to cry. + +“What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you +because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh +or beg.” + +They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you +rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. +I will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh +slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die +in jail before you pay his debt.” + +Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + +“If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his +back on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to +obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + +The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty +nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon +therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom +he had patronized in his prosperity. + +“Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how +your friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + +“We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + +“You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + +“There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I +did not come for that.” + +“Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of +gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + +“Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” + answered Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, +“Put that into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a +whack to the poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for +it. There's gold for you.” + +They hurriedly withdrew. + +Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was +threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter +noble whose gold might help the foe. + +“Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you +dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + +“Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, +and more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + +“Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; +you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a +fool.” + +But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could +save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” + they said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy +her.” + +“Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and +seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + +The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown +before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, +who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They +looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield +if he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper +than arrows. + +“These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged +you, Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + +“Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your +revenge needs human flesh.” + +“Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + +“I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will +inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + +At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble +general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, +“He is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone +with letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed +them on wax.” + +Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + all living men did hate. + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + and stay not here your gait.” + +“Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens +with an olive branch instead of a sword. + +So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter +than Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a +warning lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + + + + +OTHELLO + + + +Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, who +hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead of +Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, +whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago +had a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he +could not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + +Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called +him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been +vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great +traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. +Brave as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a +terrible selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as +absolutely as he possessed something that did not live and think. The +story of Othello is a story of jealousy. + +One night Iago told Roderigo that Othello had carried off Desdemona +without the knowledge of her father, Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo +to arouse Brabantio, and when that senator appeared Iago told him +of Desdemona's elopement in the most unpleasant way. Though he was +Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and a Barbary horse. + +Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to +fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used +was his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth +escapes. Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained +how she could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I +saw Othello's visage in his mind.” + +As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there +was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to +go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to +go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him +at Cyprus. + +Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, +my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and +Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with +my own happiness.” + +News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he +proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + +Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago +decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, +as Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought +wine into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and +so Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + +When Cassio was inclined to be quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say +something unpleasant to him. Cassio cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the +presence of Montano, the ex-governor. Montano civilly interceded for +Roderigo, but received so rude an answer from Cassio that he said, +“Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded him, and Iago sent +Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + +The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I +love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + +On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about +his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. +“O God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an +enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + +Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio +was pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to +Desdemona in the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and +said, “Be merry, Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your +cause.” + +Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired +hurriedly. + +Iago said, “I don't like that.” + +“What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something +unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio +who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was +Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who +stole away in that guilty manner.” + +Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio +retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part +when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. +Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona +told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + +Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that +Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + +“Yes,” said Othello. + +“Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now +very clear. + +“Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective +inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + +“What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + +To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. +He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who +steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name +ruins me.” + +At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident +of his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no +other than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth +mock the meat it feeds on.” + +Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the +remark that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. +“If she deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + +Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. +She saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his +forehead. Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello +had given her. A prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this +handkerchief from the silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a +liquid prepared from the hearts of maidens, and embroidered it with +strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of it simply as a cool, soft +thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell upon it that would work +destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it round your head,” she +said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But Othello pettishly +said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he then went +indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which Iago had +often asked her to steal. + +She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he +snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + +In the garden he was joined by Othello, who seemed hungry for the worst +lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello that he had seen Cassio +wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because it was spotted with +strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had given his wife. + +The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness +that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I +accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that +Cassio is dead.” + +Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. +Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry +pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to +copy it for him. + +Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona +about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation +between Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's +sweetheart, and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was +Desdemona. + +“How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + +“The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + +“Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, +adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the +matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + +“Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like +the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's +fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he +prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not +the dog I shall throw it to.” + +Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea +that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the +embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the +handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + +Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech +inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise +his wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the +needle, her voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her +wit, her sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised +her Iago said something that made him remember his anger and utter it +foully, and yet he must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, +Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!” + +There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there +had been he might have wavered then. + +“Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + +The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a +relative of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter +for Othello from the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from +Cyprus, and gave the governorship to Cassio. + +Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit +of Cassio. + +“Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + +“It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, +and he told her what it contained. + +“I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that +Othello's unkindness had wrung out of her. + +“I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + +“Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her +face. + +Now was the time for Desdemona to have saved her life by separation, but +she knew not her peril--only that her love was wounded to the core. “I +have not deserved this,” she said, and the tears rolled slowly down her +face. + +Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not +be believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in +his nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and +roared, “Out of my sight!” + +“I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in +going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and +his guests. + +Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, +to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the +company. + +Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family +quarrels, and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico +asked Iago for an explanation. + +True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse +than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from +the discomfort of answering any more questions. + +He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune +with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona +without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + +Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's +house, Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, +and Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo +as his assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient +friend, called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + +At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she +must leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. +“It was his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + +She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to +her--a song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though +it weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + +She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed +to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask +God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not +kill thy soul,” he said. + +He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to +confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything +that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + +Then Desdemona wept, but with violent words, in spite of all her +pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and mortally hurt her. + +Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, +and Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A +guiltless death I die.” + +“Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. +Farewell!” + +“'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + +He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came +running in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, +Emilia told the truth. + +And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he +exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + +But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a +relief from torture. + +They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he +escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the +Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. +Say I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and +say that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I +took him by the throat and smote him thus.” + +With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his +lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + +There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair +daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, +and unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her +sister, Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more +than one suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the +elder daughter must marry first. + +So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to +marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to +their suit for Bianca. + +A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought +of, and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the +disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just +the sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he +himself would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + +Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his +gentle daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she +was anything but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, +complaining that the naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, +because he told her she was not playing correctly. + +“Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to +have some chat with her.” + +When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, Kate--for that, I hear, is +your name.” + +“You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + +“Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and +sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every +town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + +“Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable +things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + +“If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still +protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + +When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + +“How speed you with my daughter?” + +“How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + +“How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + +“I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you are acting a father's +part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + +“Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. +You should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will +go off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! +we will be married on Sunday.” + +With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent +temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in +love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was +not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her +rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she +did indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + +To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the +wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was +ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby +way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + +And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, +Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or +drink--saying that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with +her. + +And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in +so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. +He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by +rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the +way. + +She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was +determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had +made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never +forget. + +So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served +he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and +ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but +the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless +to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how +anxious he was that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, +throwing the pillows and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not +go to bed at all, and still kept growling and scolding at the servants +so that Kate might see how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + +The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught +away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for +want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + +“I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + +“What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + +Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's +secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would +she like tripe? + +“Bring it me,” said Katharine. + +“I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the +servant. “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + +“I love it,” said Kate. + +“But mustard is too hot.” + +“Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was +getting hungrier and hungrier. + +“No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef +from me.” + +“Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or +anything thou wilt.” + +“Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + +Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + +Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun +to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new +clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine +was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made +for her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and +gown on the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish +things. + +“I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All gentlewomen wear such caps as +these--” + +“When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not +till then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but +privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + +“Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the +sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest +habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by +dinner-time.” + +“It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to +see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and +her sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get +there.” + +“It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, +whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't +go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + +At last they started for her father's house. + +“Look at the moon,” said he. + +“It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + +“I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or +whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + +Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, +for from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and +never again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + +So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found +all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly +married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat +down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing +Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many +disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and +froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with +such spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the +new bride. + +After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh +against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear +you have got the veriest shrew of all.” + +“You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us +shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the +one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree +on.” + +The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the +most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + +They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + +“Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or +hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + +“A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + +“Content,” cried the others. + +Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to +him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the +servant coming back, said-- + +“Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + +“There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + +“You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a +worse.” + +“I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + +“Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + +“Oh--if you entreat her,” said Petruchio. + +“I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will +not be entreated.” + +But now the servant came in, and said-- + +“She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + +“Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I +command her to come to me.” + +They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and +that she would not come. + +Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + +“Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + +“What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + +“Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + +“Talking by the parlor fire.” + +“Fetch them here.” + +When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + +“Here is a wonder!” + +“I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + +“It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + +“Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add +another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another +daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + +So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife +and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her +well, and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they +lived happy ever afterwards. + + + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + +More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were +governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was +excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + +The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna +was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief +secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, +that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He +knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause +people to call him a tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council +that he must go to Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen +Angelo to rule in my absence,” said he. + +Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean +man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have +nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana +lived forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, +and loving him still. + +Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called +Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of +giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to +stay at home and see how Angelo governed. + +Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young +man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would +only be punished by severe reproof. + +Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of +freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead +with Angelo. + +Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, +and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + +Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + +An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but +not kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + +Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy +than is in the law.” + +Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine +the next morning. + +After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the +condemned man desired to see him. + +“Admit her,” said Angelo. + +On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor +to your Honor.” + +“Well?” said Angelo. + +She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased +the beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she +continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + +“Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A +fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault +went free.” + +She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You +are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + +So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon +him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis +too late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with +reasons, and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + +She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him that +humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it was good to +have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant. She told him +that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. She bade him look +for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to refrain from making +it an argument against her brother's life. + +Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's +beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for +the love of man. + +He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + +She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a +few hours.' + +In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his +judicial duty. + +When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother +cannot live.” + +Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. +Heaven keep your Honor.” + +But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight +in comparison with the loss of her. + +“Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + +“Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay +upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the +just man he pretended to be. + +So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. +At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. +But when he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by +marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and +he exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + +“O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + +At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to +request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + +The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose +love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let +Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, +in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would +marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it +might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + +Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly +like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They +were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + +In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like a +friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, friar?” “I have none,” said +the Duke. + +Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one +about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and +called the Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love +him. “The Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the +Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he +thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a +friar, replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to +see another merry to being merry himself.” + +The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + +Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the +two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They +went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and +while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the +window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which +betrayed Mariana's indifference to her country dwelling. Some women +would have beautified their garden: not she. She was for the town; she +neglected the joys of the country. He was sure that Angelo would not +make her unhappier. + +“We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + +So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, +and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone +which flashed in the light with secret colors. + +Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared +to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, +however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His +amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever +you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the +clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + +But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another +head,” and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the +hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows +it not. Give Angelo another head.” + +The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's +signet and I know his hand.” + +He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the +age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + +The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its +resemblance to Claudio's. + +The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city +gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and +Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their +conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence. + +It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, +passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried +for justice. + +When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a +slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + +“Friar Lodowick,” said she. + +“Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + +“I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against +your Grace.” + +A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + +Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took +off her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was +worth looking on.” + +Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand +which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + +“I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage +between us, but I found her frivolous.” + +Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. +Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar +Lodowick. + +“He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the +missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + +Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and +accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as +abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, +that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled +for his impudence. + +“To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, +the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + +“Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve +you, work it for all it's worth.” + +“Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + +“Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + +“I was,” said Angelo. + +“Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to +Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + +“Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is +now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but +well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + +“O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + +“You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + +At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said +the Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid +his head!” + +“O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + +“You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + +“O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no better man.” + +Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned +inflexibility. + +“Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio was executed at an +unusual hour?” + +Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, +“I had a private message.” + +“You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then +departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer +death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost +re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I +saved this man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to +Isabella, “I pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my +brother, too, if you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + +She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the +Provost. + +Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + +Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. +Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived +at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name +because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a +Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because +it was that of a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him +to be a lover at one time and a traitor at another. + +One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm +not in love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at +home.” + +Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, +who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry +to part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, +and I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant +called Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's +daughter, Silvia. + +When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she +loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in +the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, +for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be +annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone +than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her +heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So +by tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved +him. Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, +and you shall marry me.” + +Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's +letter and talking to himself. + +“What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + +“A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + +“Let me read it,” said Antonio. + +“There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is +very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I +were with him.” + +This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go +to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go +to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my +outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent +after you.” + +It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two +days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and +he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till +death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + +Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him +under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that +she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well +of, but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike +writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. +“Take it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + +“Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + +“Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not write tenderly enough.” + +Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; +but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed +Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The +joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He +meant that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: +“If master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + +On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and +afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love +for Julia was prospering. + +“Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + +“Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink +all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + +“You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + +“She is divine,” said Valentine. + +“Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + +“Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all +women on earth.” + +“Except Julia,” said Proteus. + +“Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant +that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + +“Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + +But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired +Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without +delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself +am dearer than my friend.” + +It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by +the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the +evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did +not change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to +him the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. +“In the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope +ladder, with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + +Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. +The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom +she did not care a straw. + +Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make +Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring +Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, +“Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, +but your Grace should know that he intends to-night to elope with your +Grace's daughter.” He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver +of this information, and the Duke assured him that his name would not be +divulged. + +Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing +a large cloak with a bulging pocket. + +“You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir +Thurio?” + +“I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man +so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + +“Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, +proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I +intend, therefore, to marry again.” + +Valentine bowed. + +“I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the +Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to +win the lady of my choice.” + +“Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + +“I have tried them,” said the Duke. + +“The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some +more.” + +“The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised +to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in +fact, locked up.” + +“Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a +rope ladder.” + +“But how should I carry it?” asked the Duke. + +“A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + +“Like yours?” + +“Yes, your Grace.” + +“Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + +Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend +his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the +pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and +read these words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + +“Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but +not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are +in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + +Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the +day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + +Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of +the first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; +“walk hence with that.” + +After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest +near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, +the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They +obeyed, and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that +they offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + +“I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are +not violent to women or the poor.” + +The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + +We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since +Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which +she could see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and +she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta +would bear the blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia +therefore said that she intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + +“You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at +this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + +“I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + +Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia +had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her +toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to +see. + +Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to +hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + +“They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + +Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It +was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her + That she might admired be.” + +Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow thundered +into her mind-- + + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + She excels each mortal thing.” + +Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so +beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only +false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She +even went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + +One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, +“Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the +picture of her she promised me.” + +Silvia had promised the picture, but she disliked Proteus. She was +obliged to talk to him because he was high in the favor of her father, +who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir Thurio. Silvia had +learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a sweetheart in +Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that he was +disloyal in friendship as well as love. + +Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the +woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + +“She thanks you,” said Julia. + +“You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of +herself that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + +Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it +the worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made +up her mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + +Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + +The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled +Valentine, and he was not wrong. + +Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some +servants. + +The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia +(in her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had +been taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. +Proteus rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give +me one kind look.” + +“O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a +lion's breakfast.” + +Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia +that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + +“O heaven!” cried Silvia. + +At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came +crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia +feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But +he struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust +you more.” + +Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive +me! I grieve! I suffer!” + +“Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If +Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that +I will stand aside and bless you both.” + +These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived +her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + +“I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the +Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + +“Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + +She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia +before he left Verona. + +Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + +“I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + +“But I love you again,” said he. + +Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + +“Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + +Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + +“Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + +“I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + +“Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. +Your banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve +her.” + +“I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask +you one more boon.” + +“I grant it,” said the Duke. + +“Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better +than their calling.” + +“I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be +for wages.” + +“What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating +Julia. + +The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + +“More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment +which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and +friendship was the recital in his presence of the adventures of +Julia-Sebastian of Verona. + + + + +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + +In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of Rousillon +was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her husband, +and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, hundreds +of miles away. + +Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, +and eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make +him, and would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. +But a pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + +Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service +of the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her +father's prescriptions. + +When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the +Countess, who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her +own child. Tears then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the +Countess made Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. +The Countess guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that +Bertram was to her as the sun is to the day. + +She hoped, however, to win this sun by earning the gratitude of the King +of France, who suffered from a lingering illness, which made him lame. +The great doctors attached to the Court despaired of curing him, but +Helena had confidence in a prescription which her father had used with +success. + +Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was +allowed to see the King. + +He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would +not become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief +which all the learned doctors cannot give me.” + +“Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared +that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + +“And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + +“Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I +choose!” + +So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering +king. Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the +royal cripple could skip. + +He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the +throne room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been +dazzled, and seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome +young noblemen before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found +Bertram. Then she went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, +but I am yours!” Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, +“This is the Man!” + +“Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + +“My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to +choose a wife.” + +“Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the +monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + +“Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who +owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + +“You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said +the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and +he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not +distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a +bowl.” + +“I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge +him not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's +sake.” + +“My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. +“Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you +are so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + +Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your +interest in her. I submit.” + +“Take her by the band,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + +Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was married to Helena. + +Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped +to sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that +now he had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay +at home. “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made +Bertram feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the +war in Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + +Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, +giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding +her a cold good-bye. + +She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get +the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' +I write 'never.'” + +Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said +farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from +his own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in +trouble, and help you.” + +She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made +him wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and +handed her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I +have run away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always +far away from her.” + +“Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name +out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + +The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay +the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted +fellow.” + +Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, +and, leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for +Florence. + +On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' +House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with +her. + +Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter +named Diana. + +When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman +of yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But +after a time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of +Helena's husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the +fact that he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife +was not worth caring for. + +The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her +that she was the Countess Rousillon. + +“He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + +Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the +same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of +gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will +help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her +hair to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his +finger. It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, +yet he will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your +daughter insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark +room, and agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + +The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She +said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + +Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off +a lock of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to +Bertram that he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her +into the dark room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, +and felt a sweet face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he +left the room satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on +his finger was a ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + +The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught +Bertram that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his +“kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such +a boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French +officers played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost +his drum, and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in +the attempt. His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the +story of a heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + +“Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + +“What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been +blindfolded. + +“He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as +interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + +“As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me +like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there +were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with +spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + +Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told +Diana that he was a fool. + +“This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + +“He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + +Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and +was not addicted to boasting. + +We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her +death, which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, +a lord who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + +The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed +for Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it +accomplished. + +“His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + +Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said +that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he +would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + +“Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget +sweet Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + +Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's +Helena's!” + +“It's not!” said Bertram. + +Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring +I gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So +you had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + +Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother +said it was. + +“You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they +were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana +had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, +craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition +signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to +marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + +“I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than take Bertram now,” said +Lafeu. + +“Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + +Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied +that Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was +spent in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it +was to whom he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now +missing from his finger? + +Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning +generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + +“Do I see reality?” asked the King. + +“O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + +She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will +you love me, Bertram?” + +“To the end of my life,” cried he. + +“My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in +them. + +The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy +young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had +wished to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to +himself. His pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a +husband of some sort after all. + + + + +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES. + + + + [Key.-- + + a,e,i,o,u -- as in hat, bet, it, hot, hut; + â,ê,î,ô,û -- as in ate, mote, mite, mote, mute; + å -- as in America, freeman, coward; + ë -- as in her, fern; + ü -- as in burn, furl. ] + + Adriana (ad-ri-â'-nå) + AEgeon (ê'-ge-on) + AEmilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Alcibiades (al-si-bî'-å-dêz) + Aliena (â-li-ê'-nå) + Angelo (an'-je-lô) + Antioch (an'-ti-ok) + Antiochus (an-tî'-o-kus) + Antipholus (an-tif'-o-lus) + Antonio (an-tô'-ni-ô) + Apemantus (ap-e-man'-tus) + Apollo (å-pol'-ô) + Ariel (â'ri-el) + Arragon (ar'-å-gon) + + Banquo (ban'-kwô) + Baptista (bap-tis'-tå) + Bassanio (bas-sa'-ni-ô) + Beatrice (bê'å-tris) + Bellario (bel-lâ'-ri-ô) + Bellarius (bel-lâ'-ri-us) + Benedick (ben'-e-dik) + Benvolio (ben-vô'-li-ô) + Bertram (bër'-tram) + Bianca (bê-an'-kå) + Borachio (bô-rach'-i-ô) + Brabantio (brå-ban'chô) + Burgundy (bür'-gun-di) + + Caliban (kal'-i-ban) + Camillo (kå-mil'-ô) + Capulet (kap'-û-let) + Cassio (kas'-i-ô) + Celia (sê'-li-å) + Centaur (sen'-tawr) + Cerimon (sê'-ri-mon) + Cesario (se-sâ'-ri-ô) + Claudio (klaw'-di-ô) + Claudius (klaw'-di-us) + Cordelia (kawr-dê'-li-å) + Cornwall (kawrn'-wawl) + Cymbeline (sim'-be-lên) + + Demetrius (de-mê'-tri-us) + Desdemona (des-de-mô-nå) + Diana (dî-an'-å) + Dionyza (dî-ô-nî'-zå) + Donalbain (don'-al-ban) + Doricles (dor'-i-klêz) + Dromio (drô'-mi-ô) + Duncan (dung'-kån) + + Emilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Ephesus (ef'e-sus) + Escalus (es'-kå-lus) + + Ferdinand (fër'-di-nand) + Flaminius (flå-min'-i-us) + Flavius (flâ'-vi-us) + Fleance (flê'-ans) + Florizel (flor'-i-zel) + + Ganymede (gan'-i-mêd) + Giulio (jû'-li-ô) + Goneril (gon'-e-ril) + Gonzalo (gon-zah'-lô) + + Helena (hel'-e-nå) + Helicanus (hel-i-kâ'nus) + Hercules (hër'kû-lêz) + Hermia (hër'mi-å) + Hermione (hër-mî'-o-nê) + Horatio (hô-râ'-shi-ô) + Hortensio (hor-ten'-si-ô) + + Iachimo (yak'-i-mô) + Iago (ê-ah-gô) + Illyria ((il-lir'-i-å) + Imogen (im'-o-jen) + + Jessica (jes'-i-kå) + Juliet (ju'li-et) + + Laertes (lâ-ër'-têz) + Lafeu (lah-fu') + Lear (lêr) + Leodovico (lê-ô-dô'-vi-kô) + Leonato (lê-ô-nâ'-tô) + Leontes (lê-on-têz) + Luciana (lû-shi-â'nå) + Lucio (lû'-shi-ô) + Lucius (lû'-shi-us) + Lucullus (lû-kul'-us) + Lysander (lî-san'-dër) + Lysimachus (lî-sim'-å-kus) + + Macbeth (mak-beth') + Magdalen (mag'-då-len) + Malcolm (mal'-kum) + Malvolio (mal-vô'li-ô) + Mantua (man-'tû-å) + Mariana (mah-ri-â'-na) + Menaphon (men'-å-fon) + Mercutio (mer-kû'-shi-ô) + Messina (mes-sê'-nah) + Milan (mil'-ån) + Miranda (mî-ran'-då) + Mitylene (mit-ê-lê'-nê) + Montagu (mon'-tå-gû) + Montano (mon-tah'-nô) + + Oberon (ob'-ër-on) + Olivia (ô-liv'-i-å) + Ophelia (ô-fêl'-i-å or o-fêl'-yå) + Orlando (awr-lan'-dô) + Orsino (awr-sê'-nô) + Othello (ô-thel'-ô) + + Parolles (pa-rol'-êz) + Paulina (paw-lî'-nå) + Pentapolis (pen-tap'-o-lis) + Perdita (për'-di-tå) + Pericles (per'-i-klêz) + Petruchio (pe-trû'-chi-ô) + Phoenix (fê'-niks) + Pisanio (pê-sah'-ni-ô) + Polixines (pô-liks'-e-nêz) + Polonius (pô-lô'-ni-us) + Portia (pôr'-shi-å) + Proteus (prô'-te-us or prô'-tûs) + + Regan (rê'-gån) + Roderigo (rô-der'-i-gô) + Romano (rô-mah'-nô) + Romeo (rô'-me-ô) + Rosalind (roz'-å-lind) + Rosaline (roz'-å-lin) + Rousillon (ru-sê-lyawng') + + Sebastian (se-bas'-ti-ån) + Sempronius (sem-prô'-ni-us) + Simonides (si-mon'-i-dêz) + Solinus (sô-lî'-nus) + Sycorax (sî'-ko-raks) + Syracuse (sir-å-kus) + + Thaisa (tha-is'-å) + Thaliard (thâ'-li-ård) + Thurio (thû'-ri-ô) + Timon (tî'-mon) + Titania (tî-tan'-i-å) + Tybalt (tib'-ålt) + + Ursula (ur'-sû-lå) + + Venetian (ve-nê'-shån) + Venice (ven'-is) + Ventidius (ven-tid'-i-us) + Verona (vâ-rô'-nå) + Vicentio (vê-sen'-shi-ô) + + + + + +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + +ACTION. + + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than their ears. + + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + + + + +ADVERSITY. + + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + + As You Like It -- II. 1. + + + That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm. + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couched. + + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + + + + + +ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + Hamlet -- I. 3. + + + + +AGE. + + My May of life Is + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + + Macbeth -- V. 3. + + + + +AMBITION. + + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I + hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but + a shadow's shadow. + + Hamlet -- II 2. + + + I charge thee fling away ambition; + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +ANGER. + + Anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + Self-mettle tires him. + + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + + + + +ARROGANCE. + + There are a sort of men, whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a willful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore are reputed wise + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +AUTHORITY. + + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + And the creature run from the cur? + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + a dog's obeyed in office. + + King Lear -- IV. 6. + + + Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + Merciful heaven! + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + Drest in a little brief authority -- + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + As make the angels weep. + + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + + + +BEAUTY. + + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + of it ever fair. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + + +BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + + It so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + The virtue, that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + + + + +BRAGGARTS. + + It will come to pass, + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + + + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + are they not monsters? + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +CALUMNY. + + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + thou shalt not escape calumny. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + + + + +CEREMONY. + + Ceremony + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + + + + +COMFORT. + + Men + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + To be so moral, when he shall endure + The like himself. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + + Idem -- II. + + + + +COMPARISON. + + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + Until a king be by; and then his state + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + Into the main of waters. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +CONSCIENCE. + + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENT. + + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTION. + + How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + When two authorities are set up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + The one by the other. + + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + + + + +COWARDS. + + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + + +CUSTOM. + + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + A custom + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +DEATH. + + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + For that's the end of human misery. + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + + + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The dread of something after death, + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others we know not of. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. + + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + + + + +DECEPTION. + + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + + + + +DEEDS. + + Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + + Hamlet -- I. 2. + + + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + Makes deeds ill done! + + King John -- IV. 2. + + + + +DELAY. + + That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many, + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. + + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + + + + +DELUSION. + + For love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + + +DISCRETION. + + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. + + Macbeth -- III. 4. + + + + +DRUNKENNESS. + + Boundless intemperance. + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. + + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + + + + +DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + + 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 checked for silence, + But never taxed for speech. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +EQUIVOCATION. + + But yet + I do not like but yet, it does allay + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +EXCESS. + + A surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + + + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + and the ingredient is a devil. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +FALSEHOOD. + + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + Three things that women hold in hate. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + + + + +FEAR. + + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + + + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + + +FEASTS. + + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + + + + +FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + Than the sea-monster. + + King Lear -- I. 4. + + + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +FORETHOUGHT. + + Determine on some course, + More than a wild exposure to each cause + That starts i' the way before thee. + + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + + + + +FORTITUDE. + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + + + + +FORTUNE. + + When fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + + King John -- III. 4. + + + + +GREATNESS. + + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + through another man's eyes. + + As You Like It -- V. 2. + + + + +HONESTY. + + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + when a knave is not. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + + + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +HYPOCRISY. + + Devils soonest tempt, + resembling spirits of light. + + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + + + One may smile, and smile, + and be a villain. + + Hamlet -- I. 5. + + + + + +INNOCENCE. + + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + + + + +INSINUATIONS. + + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + That calumny doth use;-- + For calumny will sear + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + + + + +JEALOUSY. + + Trifles, light as air, + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + O beware of jealousy: + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + The meat it feeds on. + + Idem. + + + + +JESTS. + + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + of him that hears it. + + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + + + He jests at scars, + that never felt a wound. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + + +JUDGMENT. + + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + That no king can corrupt. + + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + + + + +LIFE. + + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Macbeth -- V. 5. + + + We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. + + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + + + + +LOVE. + + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + + + Sweet love, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The course of true-love + never did run smooth. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + + + Love looks not with the eyes, + but with the mind. + + Idem. + + + She never told her love,-- + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + + + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + + + + +MAN. + + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + how express and admirable! in action, how like + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +MERCY. + + The quality of mercy is not strained: + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown: + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + When mercy seasons justice. + Consider this,-- + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. + + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + + + + +MERIT. + + Who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + + + + +MODESTY. + + It is the witness still of excellency, + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + + + + +MORAL CONQUEST. + + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + That war against your own affections, + And the huge army of the world's desires. + + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + + + + +MURDER. + + The great King of kings + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + That thou shalt do no murder. + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +MUSIC. + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +NAMES. + + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + By any other name would smell as sweet. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + Good name, in man, and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he, that filches from me my good name, + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + + +NATURE. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves, when they be felt. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +OFFICE. + + 'Tis the curse of service; + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + Not by the old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. + + Othello -- I. 1. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY. + + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + Shall never find it more. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + + + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + + + + +OPPRESSION. + + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct them. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PAST AND FUTURE. + + O thoughts of men accurst! + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + + + + +PATIENCE. + + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +PEACE. + + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + + + I will use the olive with my sword: + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + + + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PENITENCE. + + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + + + + +PLAYERS. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts. + + As You Like It -- II. 7. + + + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + not to speak it profanely, that, + neither having the accent of Christians, + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + have so strutted, and bellowed, + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + had made men and not made them well, + they imitated humanity so abominably. + + Hamlet -- III. 2. + + + + +POMP. + + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + + + + +PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + the cripple. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + + + + +PRINCES AND TITLES. + + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honor for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imaginations, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, between their titles, and low name, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + + +QUARRELS. + + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + + + + +RAGE. + + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +REPENTANCE. + + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + + + + +REPUTATION. + + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +RETRIBUTION. + + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + + King Lear -- V. S. + + + If these men have defeated the law, + and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, + they have no wings to fly from God. + + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + + + + +SCARS. + + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + is a good livery of honor. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + + + To such as boasting show their scars, + A mock is due. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + + + + +SELF-CONQUEST. + + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + + King John -- III. 1. + + + + +SELF-EXERTION. + + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + The fault is not in our stars, + But in ourselves. + + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +SILENCE. + + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + + + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades, when speaking fails. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + + + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + + + + +SLANDER. + + Slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +SLEEP. + + The innocent sleep; + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + Macbeth -- II. 2. + + + + +SUICIDE. + + Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine, + That cravens my weak hand. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +TEMPERANCE. + + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility: + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. + + As You Like It -- II. 3. + + + + +THEORY AND PRACTICE. + + There was never yet philosopher, + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + + +TREACHERY. + + Though those, that are betrayed, + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +VALOR. + + The better part of valor is--discretion. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + + + When Valor preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + + + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + + + + +WAR. + + Take care + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + + + + +WELCOME. + + Welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WINE. + + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + to steal away their brains! + that we should with joy, revel, + pleasure, and applause, + transform ourselves into beasts! + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +WOMAN. + + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WORDS. + + Words without thoughts + never to heaven go. + + Hamlet -- III. 3. + + + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +WORLDLY CARE. + + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +WORLDLY HONORS. + + Not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 *** diff --git a/1430-h/1430-h.htm b/1430-h/1430-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27711e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/1430-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9784 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { text-align:justify} + P { margin:15%; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 95%; } + img {border: 0;} + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; } + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + } /* page numbers */ + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 1%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; + margin: 1em 5%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 5%; margin-bottom: .75em; font-size: 80%;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 5%;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + PRE { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 20%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 ***</div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="wscolor" id="wscolor"></a> <img src="images/ws.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> WILLIAM + SHAKESPEARE <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </h1> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <i>“It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has been imitated + by all succeeding writers; and it may be doubted whether from all his + successors more maxims of theoretical knowledge, or more rules of + practical prudence can be collected than he alone has given to his + country.”</i>--Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="preface" id="preface"></a> + </p> + <h4> + <b>PREFACE</b> + </h4> + <p> + The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the + purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere + science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the whole + body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, + generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little + stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and + proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the + English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage + which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though often + unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, wrote of + him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the highroad of + human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths of feeling and + sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, sentimental + thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant adventuresses--no + delicate entanglements of situation, in which the grossest images are + presented to the mind disguised under the superficial attraction of style + and sentiment. He flattered no bad passion, disguised no vice in the garb + of virtue, trifled with no just and generous principle. While causing us + to laugh at folly, and shudder at crime, he still preserves our love for + our fellow-beings, and our reverence for ourselves. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with all + that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of that + indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and clear + waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland solitudes, + and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of poetry,--and + with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to mental emotion, + which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in the midst of his + most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks and + ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or repulsive, and reminding us + of the existence of purer and brighter elements. + </p> + <p> + These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of Shakespeare, + next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the classics of + English literature. “So extensively have the characters of Shakespeare + been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” says an + American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the great body of + English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of these dramas is + often a cause of embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in words + that little folks cannot understand. + </p> + <p> + Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained in the + plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can understand and + enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of these Beautiful + Stories from Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any + unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared + and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. To + which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified in + alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the world's + greatest dramatist. + </p> + <p> + E. T. R. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <b><a name="life" id="life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE.</a></b> + </p> + <p> + In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, a + market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, + 1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. The + entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + </p> + <p> + The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three + days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this fact. + </p> + <p> + The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always + spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is + spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist it + reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is printed + “Shakespeare.” + </p> + <p> + Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in which + the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, and in the + council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is introduced one + hundred and sixty-six times during the period that the dramatist's father + was a member of the municipal body, there are fourteen different + spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among them. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have been + unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of ten were + content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not specially to + his discredit. + </p> + <p> + The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation of + Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a woolstapler, + and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have been all of these + simultaneously or at different times, or that if he could not properly be + called any one of them, the nature of his occupation was such as to make + it easy to understand how the various traditions sprang up. He was a + landed proprietor and cultivator of his own land even before his marriage, + and he received with his wife, who was Mary Arden, daughter of a country + gentleman, the estate of Asbies, 56 acres in extent. William was the third + child. The two older than he were daughters, and both probably died in + infancy. After him was born three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve + years at least, after Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in + easy circumstances. In the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief + magistrate of Stratford, and for many years afterwards he held the + position of alderman as he had done for three years before. To the + completion of his tenth year, therefore, it is natural to suppose that + William Shakespeare would get the best education that Stratford could + afford. The free school of the town was open to all boys and like all the + grammar-schools of that time, was under the direction of men who, as + graduates of the universities, were qualified to diffuse that sound + scholarship which was once the boast of England. There is no record of + Shakespeare's having been at this school, but there can be no rational + doubt that he was educated there. His father could not have procured for + him a better education anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's + works without being influenced by the old traditional theory that he had + received a very narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must + have been solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught + in the grammar schools. + </p> + <p> + There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not be + without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. + Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic + towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the + grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of + singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut out + from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great highway, + and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its markets. The + eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for observation. But + nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his birth to his marriage + to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date nothing but the birth of + three children until we find him an actor in London about 1589. + </p> + <p> + How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have no + means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very soon + after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which he is + known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter older plays + not up to the standard that was required at the time was a common practice + even among the best dramatists of the day, and Shakespeare's abilities + would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted for this kind of work. + When the alterations in plays originally composed by other writers became + very extensive, the work of adaptation would become in reality a work of + creation. And this is exactly what we have examples of in a few of + Shakespeare's early works, which are known to have been founded on older + plays. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's + greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the finest + minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers to an + elucidation of their worth. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had + died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived him + till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven years. + His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, in 1607, + married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of this + marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first Thomas + Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by either + marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of February, + 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by whom she had + three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There are thus no + direct descendants of Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him in + other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, but + their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the man, and + do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed + honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on the second day + after his death, on the north side of the chancel of Stratford church. + Over his grave there is a flat stone with this inscription, said to have + been written by himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare<br /> + To digg the dust encloased heare:<br /> + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones,<br /> + And curst be he yt moves my bones. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#preface">PREFACE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#midsummer">A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tempest">THE TEMPEST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#like">AS YOU LIKE IT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#lear">KING LEAR</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#pericles">PERICLES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quotations">QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fairies">TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quarrel">THE QUARREL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wood">HELENA IN THE WOOD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#spell">TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#awakes">TITANIA AWAKES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sea">PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#miranda">PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chess">PLAYING CHESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#celia">ROSALIND AND CELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chain">ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#faints">GANYMEDE FAINTS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#coast">LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#look">THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perdita">LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#talking">FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hermione">HERMIONE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#france">CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#regan">GONERIL AND REGAN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prison">CORDELIA IN PRISON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#captain">VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#olivia">VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#love">"YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hero">CLAUDIA AND HERO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ursula">HERO AND URSULA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#benedick">BENEDICK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#francis">FRIAR FRANCIS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet">ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet2">MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dead">THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tomb">ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tournament">PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#marina">PERICLES AND MARINA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#appears">THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ophelia">DROWNING OF OPHELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogen">IACHIMO AND IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#trunk">IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#stupefied">IMOGEN STUPEFIED</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#leonatus">IMOGEN AND LEONATUS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#witches">THE THREE WITCHES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">FROM “MACBETH"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth2">LADY MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth3">KING AND QUEEN MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dromio">ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse">LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse2">THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#aemilia">AEMILIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#morocco">THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bond">ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#home">JESSICA LEAVING HOME</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ring">BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">POET READING TO TIMON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#picture">PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#box">"NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sullen">TIMON GROWS SULLEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#adventures">OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wine">THE DRINK OF WINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#handkerchief">CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#weeping">DESDEMONA WEEPING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#master">THE MUSIC MASTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ears">KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#supper">PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dress">THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#angelo">ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prince">"YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#silvia">VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#theletter">SILVIA READING THE LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#serenade">THE SERENADE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#outlaws">ONE OF THE OUTLAWS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bertram">HELENA AND BERTRAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#king">HELENA AND THE KING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#letter">READING BERTRAM'S LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#widow">HELENA AND THE WIDOW</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wscolor">WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#clowncolor">TITANIA AND THE CLOWN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#mirandacolor">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perditacolor">PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#julietcolor">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogencolor">IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#casketcolor">CHOOSING THE CASKET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#katherinecolor">PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE</a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="clowncolor" id="clowncolor"></a> <img + src="images/dream1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN <a name="midsummer" id="midsummer"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to + marry another man, named Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any + girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put + to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as he + wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to ask that + she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke gave her + four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if she still + refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + </p> + <p> + Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to do + seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place beyond + the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and marry her. + But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she was going to + do. + </p> + <p> + <a name="fairies" id="fairies"></a> <img src="images/dream2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart + long before his marriage with Hermia had been thought of, and being very + silly, like all jealous people, she could not see that it was not poor + Hermia's fault that Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, + Helena. She knew that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she + was, to the wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow + him, and at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to + him, and betrayed her friend's secret. + </p> + <p> + Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two + had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if one + only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were the + King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies are very + wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as mortal folk. + Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the days were long, + had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They never met without + saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded each other so + dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for fear, would creep + into acorn cups and hide them there. + </p> + <p> + So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in + the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered + through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in + another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom + Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to + follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give + him up. + </p> + <p> + On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the fairies + met. + </p> + <p> + “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with + your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with + him now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="quarrel" id="quarrel"></a> <img src="images/dream3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html." /> + </p> + <p> + “It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant + and suitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys + not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + </p> + <p> + And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you + leave this wood.” + </p> + <p> + Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of + mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and + get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer + sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at + them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to + sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going to + drink. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called + Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyes + of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the first thing + they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on my Titania's + eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she sees, were it + lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a busy ape.” + </p> + <p> + While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor + Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all + his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love + her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor Helena, + and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow Demetrius and + put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love Helena when he + woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So Puck set off, and + wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but Lysander, on whose + eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw not his own Hermia, + but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking for the cruel + Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left his own lady, + under the spell of the purple flower. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="wood" id="wood"></a> When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, + and wandered about the wood trying to find him. Puck went back and told + Oberon what he had done, and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, + and set about looking for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the + juice on his eyes. And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also + Helena. So now Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the + wood, and it was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done + before. The end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and + Demetrius and Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his + kind scheme to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + </p> + <p> + “These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night with + drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the other. + When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this other herb + on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his old love. + Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will all think + that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when this is done, + all will be well with them.” + </p> + <p> + So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep + without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, and + said:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “When thou wakest, + </p> + <p> + Thou takest + </p> + <p> + True delight + </p> + <p> + In the sight + </p> + <p> + Of thy former lady's eye: + </p> + <p> + Jack shall have Jill; + </p> + <p> + Nought shall go ill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild + thyme, oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There + Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin of + a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, saying:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “What thou seest when thou wake, + </p> + <p> + Do it for thy true love take.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was + a stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood + to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped an + ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. + Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What angel + is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for + me,” said the foolish clown. + </p> + <p> + “Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the + love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful and + delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. “Come + with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + </p> + <p> + So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, + and Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with apricots + and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal + honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of painted + butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke + your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and + kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not + care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having + fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + </p> + <p> + “Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + </p> + <p> + “Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle + yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="spell" id="spell"></a> “Ready,” said Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. I + must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the + face.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's head + made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. + “But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="awakes" id="awakes"></a> And so when Oberon came along he found + his beautiful Queen lavishing kisses and endearments on a clown with a + donkey's head. + </p> + <p> + And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to give + him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took pity on + her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her pretty eyes; + and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed clown she had been + loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + </p> + <p> + Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish his + sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + </p> + <p> + Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved each + other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and Helena + had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could meet + in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + </p> + <p> + So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the + fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this very + day. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="mirandacolor" id="mirandacolor"></a> <img + src="images/tempest1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Ferdinand and Miranda <br /><a + name="tempest" id="tempest"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + THE TEMPEST + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who + lived among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his + brother Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was + ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, to + gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the people + bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, Alonso, King + of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom with all its + honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, and when they + were far away from land, forced him into a little boat with no tackle, + mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his little daughter, + Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with him, and sailed + away, leaving them to their fate. + </p> + <p> + But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful master, + Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but much could + be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy lord, whose name + was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh water, provisions, and + clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, some of his precious books. + </p> + <p> + The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed in + safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under the + spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks of trees + all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before Prospero was + cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was the chief, still + remained in their prisons. + </p> + <p> + Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost entirely + to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed his brother to + manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the imprisoned + spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were more truly his + subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he treated them kindly as + long as they did his bidding, and he exercised his power over them wisely + and well. One creature alone he found it necessary to treat with + harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the wicked old witch, a hideous, + deformed monster, horrible to look on, and vicious and brutal in all his + habits. + </p> + <p> + When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it chanced + that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and Ferdinand, his + son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their ship came near + Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, raised by his art a + great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave themselves up for + lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped into the sea, and, + as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But Ariel brought him + safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although they were washed + overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of the island, and the + good ship herself, which they all thought had been wrecked, lay at anchor + in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such wonders could Prospero + and his spirits perform. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest2.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="sea" id="sea"></a> While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero + showed his daughter the brave ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and + told her that it was filled with living human beings like themselves. She, + in pity of their lives, prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. + Then her father bade her to have no fear, for he intended to save every + one of them. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, and + that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, Antonio + and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his hands. + </p> + <p> + When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for Ariel + was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed for his + complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being + threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when Sycorax + ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the master who + had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and promised + faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + </p> + <p> + Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search + of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near him, + singing the while-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Come unto these yellow sands + </p> + <p> + And then take hands: + </p> + <p> + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + </p> + <p> + (The wild waves whist), + </p> + <p> + Foot it featly here and there; + </p> + <p> + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a solemn + air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his eyes, for + thus they ran-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + </p> + <p> + Of his bones are coral made. + </p> + <p> + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + </p> + <p> + Nothing of him that doth fade, + </p> + <p> + But doth suffer a sea-change + </p> + <p> + Into something rich and strange. + </p> + <p> + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + </p> + <p> + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of + Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. For + Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen any human + being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with reverence in her + eyes, and love in her secret heart. + </p> + <p> + “I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I ever + saw so noble!” + </p> + <p> + And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + </p> + <p> + “Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + </p> + <p> + Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for + scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to + make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly + delighted, pretended wrath. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="miranda" id="miranda"></a> “You come here as a spy,” he said to + Ferdinand. “I will manacle your neck and feet together, and you shall feed + on fresh water mussels, withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to + drink. Follow.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero + charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and + Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he + harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There he + set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of + timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his + toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + </p> + <p> + She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would not + let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and she, + hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he gave + his consent to their marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island were + plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand being + dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on Alonso's + death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose while their + victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + </p> + <p> + Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and + just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder and + lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet disappeared. + Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + </p> + <p> + Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his cell, + where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly + repenting them of their sins. + </p> + <p> + Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll + drown my book.” + </p> + <p> + So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in his + proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he forgave them + and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly committed him + and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. Alonso, who seemed + sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented the loss of his heir. + But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them Ferdinand and Miranda + playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet his loved son again, and + when he heard that the fair maid with whom Ferdinand was playing was + Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks had plighted their troth, he + said-- + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chess" id="chess"></a> “Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow + still embrace his heart that doth not wish you joy.” + </p> + <p> + So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they + all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. + Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the + rejoicings at the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own dukedom, + where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. He + practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not only + because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his + bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took no + vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + </p> + <p> + As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander where + he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + </p> + <p> + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + </p> + <p> + There I couch when owls do cry. + </p> + <p> + On the bat's back I do fly + </p> + <p> + After summer, merrily: + </p> + <p> + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + </p> + <p> + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="like" id="like"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> AS YOU LIKE IT + </p> + <p> + <br /> There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom + that should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His + brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold + forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="celia" id="celia"></a> The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, + remained with Celia, Frederick's daughter, and the two loved each other + more than most sisters. One day there was a wrestling match at Court, and + Rosalind and Celia went to see it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was + there, who had killed many men in contests of this kind. Orlando, the + young man he was to wrestle with, was so slender and youthful, that + Rosalind and Celia thought he would surely be killed, as others had been; + so they spoke to him, and asked him not to attempt so dangerous an + adventure; but the only effect of their words was to make him wish more to + come off well in the encounter, so as to win praise from such sweet + ladies. + </p> + <p> + Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance by + his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until he saw + Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now the sight + of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that he did + marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the wrestler + had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased with his + courage, and asked his name. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + </p> + <p> + Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to the + banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando was, + and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that this + handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and as + they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another kind + word to the brave young man. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for + me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + </p> + <p> + Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the handsome + wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first sight. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than + myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chain" id="chain"></a> “Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you + are banished. If within ten days you are found within twenty miles of my + Court, you die.” + </p> + <p> + So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest + of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was + rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as a + young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said that + she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very tired when + at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were sitting on the + grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede asked him if he could get + them food. He did so, and told them that a shepherd's flocks and house + were to be sold. They bought these and settled down as shepherd and + shepherdess in the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's life, + Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the rightful + Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando could think + of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest carving her name on + trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on the bushes, and there + Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met them, but he did not + know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked the pretty shepherd + youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her he loved. + </p> + <p> + “There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and + hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him of + his folly.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If + you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I + will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, + till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + </p> + <p> + And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to + her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had the + fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the right + ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep + on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for + the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on + anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and saw + that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his life. He + fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's life. + </p> + <p> + While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, + whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk of + his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged + Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The + lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to see + the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena + was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she fell + in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger Orlando + had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said truly enough, + “I should have been a woman by right.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love + Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and + live here as a shepherd.” + </p> + <p> + “Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke + and his friends.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="faints" id="faints"></a> When Orlando told Ganymede how his + brother was to be married on the morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing + it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his + voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother + marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + </p> + <p> + Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, and + Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter + Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the + Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. + “That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + </p> + <p> + Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's + clothes again, and after a while came back. + </p> + <p> + She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to + Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + </p> + <p> + So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they lived + happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For Frederick + had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, and so gave + back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a monastery to pray + for forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A shepherd + and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she was herself + disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and all with such + pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere within four walls, + but only in the beautiful green wood. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="perditacolor" id="perditacolor"></a> <img + src="images/wtale2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Prince Florizel and Perdita + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="tale" id="tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, King + of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated when + they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over his kingdom. + After many years, when each was married and had a son, Polixenes came to + stay with Leontes in Sicily. + </p> + <p> + Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into + his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than she + did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, nothing + could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to put a + poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this wicked + action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. He then + told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from the Court + of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo lived on as + Polixenes' friend and counselor. + </p> + <p> + Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the throne, + died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly treated. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="coast" id="coast"></a> While the Queen was in prison she had a + little baby, and a friend of hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in + its best, and took it to show the King, thinking that the sight of his + helpless little daughter would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, + who had never done him any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than + he deserved; but the King would not look at the baby, and ordered + Paulina's husband to take it away in a ship, and leave it in the most + desert and dreadful place he could find, which Paulina's husband, very + much against his will, was obliged to do. + </p> + <p> + Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring + Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except + Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, + Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But + he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that + they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + </p> + <p> + “Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, + Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if that + which is lost be not found.” + </p> + <p> + Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The poor + Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how wicked + and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were with the + Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina came back in a + few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="look" id="look"></a> Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his + folly. His Queen was dead, and the little daughter who might have been a + comfort to him he had sent away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life + had nothing left for him now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed + many sad years in prayer and remorse. + </p> + <p> + The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom + where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell Leontes + where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the ship, he met a + bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + </p> + <p> + But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was richly + dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to her + cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble + parents. + </p> + <p> + The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to his + wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more teaching + than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from her royal + mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different from the + other maidens in the village where she lived. + </p> + <p> + One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was bunting + near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a charming + woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that he was the + Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he was a private + gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty Perdita, he came + almost daily to see her. + </p> + <p> + The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every + day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that the + heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty shepherd + girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, disguised himself, + and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise too, to the old shepherd's + house. They arrived at the feast of sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, + they were made very welcome. There was dancing going on, and a peddler was + selling ribbons and laces and gloves, which the young men bought for their + sweethearts. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, but + sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners and + great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of his + old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + </p> + <p> + “This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green sward. + Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than + herself--too noble for this place.” + </p> + <p> + And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + </p> + <p> + But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the + strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King + made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw + Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and + with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed + with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="perdita" id="perdita"></a> Camillo had long known how sorry + Leontes was for that foolish madness of his, and he longed to go back to + Sicily to see his old master. He now proposed that the young people should + go there and claim the protection of Leontes. So they went, and the + shepherd went with them, taking Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and + the paper he had found pinned to her cloak. + </p> + <p> + Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince + Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was like + the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + </p> + <p> + “Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly + sent her from me.” + </p> + <p> + When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who + had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the + child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told his + tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that Perdita + was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and rewarded the + good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with Perdita, + but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, he was only + too glad to give his consent. + </p> + <p> + Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, who + should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's happiness, + was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for a long time + but-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of Bohemia, + and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, and then + thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="talking" id="talking"></a> Then Paulina, who had been high all + these years in the King's favor, because of her kindness to the dead Queen + Hermione, said--“I have a statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a + piece many years in doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, + Giulio Romano. I keep it in a private house apart, and there, ever since + you lost your Queen, I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please + your Majesty to go and see the statue?” + </p> + <p> + So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and their + attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple curtain + screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the curtain, said-- + </p> + <p> + “She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead + likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand of man + hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it is--behold, and + say, 'tis well.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The + King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. + But speak, is it not like her?” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was not + so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + </p> + <p> + “Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her + to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + </p> + <p> + And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have + stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + </p> + <p> + But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it + moves.” + </p> + <p> + “Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + </p> + <p> + “I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives + presently.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hermione" id="hermione"></a> “Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, + “make me to think so twenty years together.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make it + come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by wicked + magic.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from + its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's + neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was no + statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived hidden, + by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover herself to + her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she could not quite + forgive him till she knew what had become of her little baby. + </p> + <p> + Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it was + like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + </p> + <p> + To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment + when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love around + him once again. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="lear" id="lear">KING LEAR</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his kingdom, + and wished only to end his days quietly near his three daughters. Two of + his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; and the + Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both suitors for the hand of + Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + </p> + <p> + Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed + to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like + to know how much you love me.” + </p> + <p> + Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father + at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him dearer + than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, beauty, + and honor. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="france" id="france"></a> “I love you as much as my sister and + more,” professed Regan, “since I care for nothing but my father's love.” + </p> + <p> + Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his + youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he + said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no more, + no less.” + </p> + <p> + And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her + sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of + duty to their old father. + </p> + <p> + “I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved + me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, + love you, and most honor you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="regan" id="regan"></a> Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished + her to make more extravagant professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” + he said, “be for ever a stranger to my heart and me.” + </p> + <p> + The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried to + say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided the + kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only keep + a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by turns. + </p> + <p> + When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the + kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was + wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, + and our fair France.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of + hers again.” + </p> + <p> + So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having + ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now + went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her + father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred + knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful to + him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended that + they did not hear them. + </p> + <p> + Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would go + into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of a + servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two + friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his Fool, + who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his knights + only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she begged + him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + </p> + <p> + “My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I will + not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + </p> + <p> + And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the castle + of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in professions of + attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in undutiful conduct, + saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on him, and Goneril (who + had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any kindness to the old King) + said five were too many, since her servants could wait on him. + </p> + <p> + Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, he + left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the heath + half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. But + presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last + persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the Earl + of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court of + France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + </p> + <p> + Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. Here + she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a crown of + nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed him, and + Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and + foolish.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="prison" id="prison"></a> And now he knew at last which of his + children it was that had loved him best, and who was worthy of his love. + </p> + <p> + Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were + successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then + Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not + known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and + when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she was, + she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly poison to + her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and though + the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The old King + came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying the body of + his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + </p> + <p> + And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with her + still in his arms, and died. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="twelfth" id="twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful + Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained his + suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the Duke, + bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not let the + very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk veiled; and + all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she would keep fresh + and lasting in her sad remembrance. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="captain" id="captain"></a> The Duke longed for someone to whom he + could tell his sorrow, and repeat over and over again the story of his + love. And chance brought him such a companion. For about this time a + goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian coast, and among those who reached + land in safety were the captain and a fair young maid, named Viola. But + she was little grateful for being rescued from the perils of the sea, + since she feared that her twin brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to + her as the heart in her bosom, and so like her that, but for the + difference in their manner of dress, one could hardly be told from the + other. The captain, for her comfort, told her that he had seen her brother + bind himself “to a strong mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus + there was hope that he might be saved. + </p> + <p> + Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young Duke + Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, she + decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment with + him as a page. + </p> + <p> + In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the + story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, but + soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that his + hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad to woo + Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when she came + to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious man, sick, as + his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger admittance. + </p> + <p> + Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, + and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her + instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, + “We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + </p> + <p> + When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent + away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger + from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the + supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some + love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="olivia" id="olivia"></a> “He left this ring behind him,” she + said, taking one from her finger. “Tell him I will none of it.” + </p> + <p> + Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly + well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness + that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart + for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + </p> + <p> + It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease the + pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario stood by + his side. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” answered Viola. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of your complexion,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="love" id="love"></a> To this came the pretty answer, “About your + years, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder + than herself.” + </p> + <p> + And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead his + love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + </p> + <p> + “If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My + father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, + “perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is her history?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let + concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she pined in + thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like Patience on + a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, who + had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty fashion, + said-- + </p> + <p> + “I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall I + go to the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the story, + “and give her this jewel.” + </p> + <p> + So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, and + openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her + hastily, saying-- + </p> + <p> + “Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + </p> + <p> + But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel for + other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, sent a + messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no heart to + refuse the request. + </p> + <p> + But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the + jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who + at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. + This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew + to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel + between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced + Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The poor + page, in great terror, said-- + </p> + <p> + “I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + </p> + <p> + “Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me + first.” + </p> + <p> + And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to + await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in a + great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her sword, + and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for them both, + at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, and stopped + the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she might, while + Sir Toby called after her-- + </p> + <p> + “A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + </p> + <p> + Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all the + dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he determined + to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he passed Olivia's + house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and whom should he meet + but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking Sebastian for the + cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and walking up to him + struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting back + a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to the rescue + of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir Toby's + clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but that + Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and with + many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning to + Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with many + a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, readily + consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, they were + married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or Sebastian + was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her + himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her door, + and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for leaving + her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and wholesome to + her as howling after music. + </p> + <p> + “Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + </p> + <p> + “Still so constant,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on + her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said + to the page. + </p> + <p> + And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a + thousand deaths would die.” + </p> + <p> + A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, husband, + stay!” + </p> + <p> + “Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + </p> + <p> + And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared + Cesario to be the bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + “O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, but + go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that + Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + </p> + <p> + “I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on + me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their + thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. + Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + </p> + <p> + “One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, looking + first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + “An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin + than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + </p> + <p> + “I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind + waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, “I + should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, + drowned Viola!'” + </p> + <p> + Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she + was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is + akin to love. + </p> + <p> + “Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst + love woman like to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those + swearings keep true.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, and + my fancy's queen.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian a + constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="nothing" id="nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious + storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had gained + so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence they came is + forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of war, Don Pedro + came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his stepbrother Don + John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. + Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in + love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + </p> + <p> + One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in a + musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated + through the open window. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hero" id="hero"></a> “Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” + Claudio, asked, and Borachio settled himself for comfortable listening. + </p> + <p> + “Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her + color or height, and you spoil her.” + </p> + <p> + “In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She is + like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you set + her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and + severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She was + wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not + therefore be dull. + </p> + <p> + Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said + good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, + falling in with his humor. + </p> + <p> + “I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his + Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love with + Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When + Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love for + Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a + masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio + loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his + consent to your union.” + </p> + <p> + Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a + Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to + plead for you. + </p> + <p> + Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he had an + enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's stepbrother + Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro preferred him to + Don John. + </p> + <p> + It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation + which he had overheard. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when + Borachio ceased speaking. + </p> + <p> + On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was + Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + </p> + <p> + They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, + “Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your + influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is beneath + him in rank.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ursula" id="ursula"></a> “I heard him swear his affection,” was + the reply, and Borachio chimed in with, “So did I too.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince had + betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust to an + agent.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk + exchange of opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I + would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the + Garden of Eden.” + </p> + <p> + But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor + Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and + brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing + before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you + like to go to church?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry + Hero.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart thumped + with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor + Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + </p> + <p> + “I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + </p> + <p> + Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband + for Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio a + lesson for nothing. + </p> + <p> + Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he was + confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was a + fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this plan + of hate. + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. “If,” he + said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to overhear us, + that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, see his good + qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we don't know he is + listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful Beatrice should be in + love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he will certainly be on his + knees before her in a week or less.” + </p> + <p> + So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat down + outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something about + a letter she wrote.” + </p> + <p> + “Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night + and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words + 'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + </p> + <p> + Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was + vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. “I + must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of course; + but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my + will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the + rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + </p> + <p> + But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of + her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took + no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one + day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are + talking about her in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="benedick" id="benedick"></a> Having said this, she felt as sure that + Beatrice would overhear what was meant for her ears as if she had made an + appointment with her cousin. + </p> + <p> + In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and + Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, “that + Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + </p> + <p> + “So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me to + tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and + scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making + game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away like + a covered fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too + clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in + Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + </p> + <p> + The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, + stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, + be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + </p> + <p> + We now return to the plan of hate. + </p> + <p> + The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered a + room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio if + he intended to be married to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will + show him if he will follow me.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of + Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + </p> + <p> + Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it + to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; she + was Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the + garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + </p> + <p> + The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the + street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, + and told what he had done. + </p> + <p> + A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a + thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore + arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in prison. + </p> + <p> + Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at + church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her + wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The priest was Friar Francis. + </p> + <p> + Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this + lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, + Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + </p> + <p> + Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be + married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + </p> + <p> + “If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to + utter it,” said the Friar. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, + 'None,'” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” he + continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied Leonato, + “as God gave her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this gift?” + “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the giver.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her + back.” + </p> + <p> + These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don + Pedro and Don John. + </p> + <p> + The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as she + could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except her + father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, “Hence + from her! Let her die!” + </p> + <p> + But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the + soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + </p> + <p> + Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew not + what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead with + shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, and + slander turns to remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a + retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + </p> + <p> + Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do believe + your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the + world as well as you?” + </p> + <p> + “It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said + Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” said + Beatrice. “Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + </p> + <p> + During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were + examined by a constable called Dogberry. + </p> + <p> + The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he + had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + </p> + <p> + Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now + thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved + father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a + friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to + death, and I challenge you to combat.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + </p> + <p> + Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were feeling + scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + </p> + <p> + “The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with what + weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I can't + carve a calf's head.” + </p> + <p> + Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, + the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for justice. + </p> + <p> + The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="francis" id="francis"></a> Borachio thought the moment a happy + one for making a clean breast of it. He laid the whole blame on Don John, + who had disappeared. “The lady Hero being dead,” he said, “I desire + nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + </p> + <p> + Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear + your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + </p> + <p> + “Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may + impose.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's + innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for + you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero + that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings die.” + </p> + <p> + “Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room and + composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his + attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he + had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + </p> + <p> + He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made ready + to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in Leonato's + house, and was faithful to his appointment. + </p> + <p> + He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several + masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick were + present. + </p> + <p> + Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I + swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + </p> + <p> + “Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + </p> + <p> + The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick + interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is Beatrice?” + </p> + <p> + Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Moderately,” answered Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing a + feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And here,” + said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the pocket of + Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! Come, + I will marry you, Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he had + married Claudio and Hero. + </p> + <p> + “How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you + will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but as + you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; + but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was able + to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not sweet + against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="julietcolor" id="julietcolor"></a> <img src="images/rj2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Romeo and + Juliet + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="rj" id="rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu + and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, in + most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were extremely + silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, and instead + of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of pet of their + quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu wouldn't speak to + a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet to a Montagu--or if + they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant things, which often + ended in a fight. And their relations and servants were just as foolish, + so that street fights and duels and uncomfortablenesses of that kind were + always growing out of the Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper + and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to it + except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named + Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he + loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and he + had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love + somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love the + wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends + Mercutio and Benvolio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="fight" id="fight"></a> Old Capulet welcomed him and his two + friends very kindly--and young Romeo moved about among the crowd of + courtly folk dressed in their velvets and satins, the men with jeweled + sword hilts and collars, and the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and + arms, and stones of price set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his + best too, and though he wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone + could see by his mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he + was twelve times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + </p> + <p> + Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable that + from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline whom he + had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as she moved + in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world seemed vain + and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying this, or + something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing his voice, + knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at once to his uncle, + and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the feast; but old + Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to any man under his + own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young man only waited for + a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in sweet + words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent for + her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his heart's + hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. So he went + away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet" id="juliet"></a> Then Juliet said to her nurse: + </p> + <p> + “Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + </p> + <p> + Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the + beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was + hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go + right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to be + there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how she + loved Romeo. + </p> + <p> + And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked up + and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming creepers + that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he felt as + though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some magician + in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + </p> + <p> + “Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what does + it matter what you are called?” + </p> + <p> + “Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be + Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade of + the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + </p> + <p> + She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, + and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below + and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one trying + to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant talk that + lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music their + voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you children + may read it for yourselves some day. + </p> + <p> + And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other + and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though + they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + </p> + <p> + “I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + </p> + <p> + And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. Romeo + went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, and, + telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet without + delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + </p> + <p> + So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he + purposed to do, the old woman took back a message that all was well, and + all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next morning. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet2" id="juliet2"></a> The young lovers were afraid to ask + their parents' consent to their marriage, as young people should do, + because of this foolish old quarrel between the Capulets and the + Montagues. + </p> + <p> + And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, because + he thought that when they were once married their parents might soon be + told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old quarrel. + </p> + <p> + So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar + Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to + come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder + to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to his + dear wife quietly and alone. + </p> + <p> + But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + </p> + <p> + Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the + Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in + the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no + wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and he + and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this + friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had + killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + </p> + <p> + So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's cousin, + and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young husband met + that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the flowers, and found + her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they parted with bitter + tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know when they should meet + again. + </p> + <p> + Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, + wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she + refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. + He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two + days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and + not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, + and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. Will + you do this, or are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home and + told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and told her + father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a different story. + </p> + <p> + Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about + inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone stayed + up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little time to do + it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because he saw she + was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her husband + Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of her cousin + Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else to think + about. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her for + her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out + suddenly-- + </p> + <p> + “Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was + born!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the + bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their + weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a + marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a + letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been + well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="dead" id="dead"></a> But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant + who knew the secret of the marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, + heard of her funeral, and hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young + wife was dead and lying in the grave. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He + hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a + vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps + that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a + voice behind him calling on him to stop. + </p> + <p> + It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you + vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + </p> + <p> + Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + </p> + <p> + “You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must + die.” + </p> + <p> + “I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle + youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better than + myself--go--leave me here--” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tomb" id="tomb"></a> Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest + you as a felon,” and Romeo, in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They + fought, and Paris was killed. + </p> + <p> + As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with + Juliet!” + </p> + <p> + And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + </p> + <p> + And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear + Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held her in + his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, while all + the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her awakening. + Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and wife. + </p> + <p> + Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had + happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband + and her friend both dead beside her. + </p> + <p> + The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and Friar + Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She saw the + cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and since no + poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust it through + her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's breast, she died. + And here ends the story of these faithful and most unhappy lovers. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had befallen, + they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief their wicked + quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the bodies of + their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship and + forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="pericles" id="pericles"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="perciles" id="perciles">PERICLES</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an + enemy of Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great + was the danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty + counselor, Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a + time. He came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his + father, he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing + Helicanus Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving + his kingdom was soon made clear. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from + Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The + faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked lord, + and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the danger which + threatened him. + </p> + <p> + The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, + feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But a + dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel was + wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised and wet + and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of Pentapolis, + the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, he looked for + nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, coming down to + the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade him be of good + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have flesh + for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and flapjacks, + and thou shalt be welcome.” + </p> + <p> + They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going to + the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his daughter, + the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + </p> + <p> + “Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make + one there.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it + dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it + in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, he + blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, which + had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen to let + him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the tournament, + promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would reward them + well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully equipped, + Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + </p> + <p> + In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the + wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. + Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he came; + and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, but he did + not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he knew that if + once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life would not be + worth a pin's purchase. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with his + courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter to have + her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger knight or die. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tournament" id="tournament"></a> Thus Pericles became the husband + of the fair lady for whose sake he had striven with the knights who came + in all their bravery to joust and tourney for her love. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, + hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant + throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become their + King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. Moreover, he + sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing Pericles. + </p> + <p> + Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King there, + told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, and that, + Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from returning + to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law who he + really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly rejoiced to + know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his own right. So + Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. But once more + the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke out, and while + it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that a little daughter + was born to him. This news would have made his heart glad indeed, but that + the servant went on to add that his wife--his dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + </p> + <p> + While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, the + sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown + overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long as a + dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest with + spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote these + lines: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + “Here I give to understand + </p> + <p> + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + </p> + <p> + I, King Pericles, have lost + </p> + <p> + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + </p> + <p> + Who finds her, give her burying; + </p> + <p> + She was the daughter of a King; + </p> + <p> + Besides this treasure for a fee, + </p> + <p> + The gods requite his charity!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by + and by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of + a lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he saw + how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took immediate + steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, who had been + thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling sure that she + would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the world, and + became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + </p> + <p> + While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his + little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at sea. + Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, the + King sailed for his own dominions. + </p> + <p> + Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and wicked + woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more accomplished and + charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to take Marina's life. + So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of her servants to take + her away and kill her. This villain would have done so, but that he was + interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried Marina off to sea with + them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold her as a slave. Yet such + was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, that she soon became honored + there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, fell deep in love with her, and + would have married her, but that he thought she must be of too humble + parentage to become the wife of one in his high position. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was + really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it to + King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see his + much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was terrible + to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed never to + wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion erected on deck, + and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke word to none. + </p> + <p> + At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and + Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel came. + When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he bethought him + of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King from his stupor, + sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade the King to speak, + promising whatever reward she would, if she succeeded. Marina gladly + obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and sang to her poor + grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he made no sign. So + presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might equal his, for, + though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that stood equal to mighty + kings. + </p> + <p> + Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked + up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his + lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her + tell her story. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="marina" id="marina"></a> Then, with many interruptions from the + King, she told him who she was and how she had escaped from the cruel + Dionyza. So Pericles knew that this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed + her again and again, crying that his great seas of joy drowned him with + their sweetness. “Give me my robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + </p> + <p> + Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of + heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a + vision. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden + priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + </p> + <p> + Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly had + he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you are--O + royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently recovering, + she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” “The voice of + dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa am I,” she said, + and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very truth. + </p> + <p> + Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found happiness + once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the pain of the + past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only in being restored + to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and became a princess in + the land where she had been sold as a slave. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="hamlet" id="hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father + and mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named + Ophelia. Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + </p> + <p> + While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young + Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung the + King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so + tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, + before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined to + marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + “It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my + loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least + remembers him, and grieves still.” + </p> + <p> + Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of + course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those I + love.” + </p> + <p> + With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their + wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them both. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he + ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. It + seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the King, + so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, and could + not accuse Claudius. + </p> + <p> + And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, from + Wittenberg. + </p> + <p> + “What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend + kindly. + </p> + <p> + “I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My + father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="appears" id="appears"></a> Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, + Horatio told how he, with two gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's + ghost on the battlements. Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at + midnight, the ghost of the King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, + appeared on the battlements in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave + youth. Instead of running away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it + beckoned him he followed it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him + that what he had suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed + his good brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in + his orchard in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked + brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and she + is your mother. Remember me.” + </p> + <p> + Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I + will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your + commands alone live on my brain.” + </p> + <p> + So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of the + ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled dawn + and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered father. + </p> + <p> + The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost + mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, he + determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended madness + in other matters. + </p> + <p> + And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, + and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that she + could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not + believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she + told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the + letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + </p> + <p> + Doubt that the sun doth move; + </p> + <p> + Doubt truth to be a liar; + </p> + <p> + But never doubt I love.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's + supposed madness was love. + </p> + <p> + Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and + yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his + father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the ghost + spoke truly. + </p> + <p> + Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them + to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play was + the story of a man <i>who had been murdered in his garden by a near + relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife.</i> + </p> + <p> + You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his throne, + with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, acted on the + stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And when, in the + play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the sleeping man, + the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the room--the Queen + and others following. + </p> + <p> + Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + </p> + <p> + “Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this + murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + </p> + <p> + Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him for his + conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, wishing to + know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself behind the + hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen got frightened + at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and Polonius behind + the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the King who was hidden + there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and killed, not the King, + but poor old Polonius. + </p> + <p> + So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap killed + his true love's father. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hamlet2" id="hamlet2"></a> “Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is + this,” cried the Queen. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and marry + his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts and how + he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more + friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good King. + And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, but the + Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + </p> + <p> + When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, + he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed + the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our plan, + and send him away to England.” + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, and + these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet should be + put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these letters, and + put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers who were so + ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, Hamlet escaped + on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left him to his fate, + and went on to meet theirs. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. + Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits + too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, and + flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking poor, + foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one day, coming + to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery garland on a + willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and so died. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ophelia" id="ophelia"></a> And Hamlet had loved her, though his + plan of seeming madness had made him hide it; and when he came back, he + found the King and Queen, and the Court, weeping at the funeral of his + dear love and lady. + </p> + <p> + Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice for + the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he leaped + into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + </p> + <p> + “I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt + into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to + love her more than I.” + </p> + <p> + But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes how + Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to slay + Hamlet by treachery. + </p> + <p> + Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were present. + Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes had prepared + for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the wicked King + had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant to give poor Hamlet + when he should grow warm with the sword play, and should call for drink. + </p> + <p> + So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave Hamlet + a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for they had been + fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with Laertes in a + struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked them up again, + Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt sword for + Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he pierced + Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear + Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + </p> + <p> + She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and + the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall dead + by his means. + </p> + <p> + Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and the + two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found courage + to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, if he had + braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives had been spared, + and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well deserved to die. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, + turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + </p> + <p> + “Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all + being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him + die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him with + their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of + Denmark. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="imogencolor" id="imogencolor"></a> <img + src="images/cymbel1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Imogen + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="cymbeline" id="cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two + sons were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and + he was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second + time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's + playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married him. + This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish Leonatus, + banished him from Britain. + </p> + <p> + Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was + not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, but + they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little + children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised + never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone else + as long as they lived. + </p> + <p> + “This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, and + keep it as long as you love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + </p> + <p> + And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and + Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="imogen" id="imogen"></a> When he was come to Rome, where he had + gone to stay with an old friend of his father's, he spent his days still + in thinking of his dear Imogen, and his nights in dreaming of her. One day + at a feast some Italian and French noblemen were talking of their + sweethearts, and swearing that they were the most faithful and honorable + and beautiful ladies in the world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how + he had said many times that his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and + constant than any of the ladies in France. + </p> + <p> + “I say so still,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of the + Italian nobles. + </p> + <p> + “She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your + wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my + finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that my + wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade her to + do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's finger, + and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction to + Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all kindness; + but he was still determined to win his wager. + </p> + <p> + He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to + tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently + perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave her. + Then he said-- + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you + this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to + be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of a + trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some + other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend of + my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="trunk" id="trunk"></a> So the trunk was carried into Imogen's + room, and that night she went to bed and to sleep. When she was fast + asleep, the lid of the trunk opened and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The + story about the jewels was as untrue as the rest of the things he had + said. He had only wished to get into her room to win his wicked wager. He + looked about him and noticed the furniture, and then crept to the side of + the bed where Imogen was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet + which had been the parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the + trunk, and next morning sailed for Rome. + </p> + <p> + When he met Leonatus, he said-- + </p> + <p> + “I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no longer + thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her room, + which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and silver + andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed + talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the + servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from her + arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet + enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have won my + life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has forgotten + me.” + </p> + <p> + And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, + Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder her, + because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same time he + wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old servant, + to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to meet her. + </p> + <p> + Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its orders, + and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the letter + from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before he left, + the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be useful in + sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that Imogen would die, + and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the Queen thought this drink + was a poison, but really and truly it was only a sleeping-draft. + </p> + <p> + When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was + really in the letter he had had from her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her on her + way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the drink he + had had from the Queen. + </p> + <p> + Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. + Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went in, + and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw there, + and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the cave. She + was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought that they + would be angry with her for taking their food, though she had meant to + leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they welcomed her + kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her face was good, + as well as pretty. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with + them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one + day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with the + two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine Pisanio + had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead creature, so + that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, they thought she + was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they carried her away and + laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + </p> + <p> + They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale primroses, + and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and went away + sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not knowing how + she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through the wood. + </p> + <p> + Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to + attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, who + had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come back, not + to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons against + Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the Roman General, + and took service with him as his page. + </p> + <p> + When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and + his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as a + British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline + prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued + the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners brought + before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, who had + put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life since he + had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, as a Roman + soldier, he would be put to death. + </p> + <p> + When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + </p> + <p> + “A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so be + it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let him be + ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, true. He + has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save him, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="stupefied" id="stupefied"></a> Then Cymbeline looked on the page, + who was his own daughter, Imogen, in disguise, and though he did not + recognize her, he felt such a kindness that he not only spared the boy's + life, but he said-- + </p> + <p> + “He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a + prisoner, the noblest taken.” + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from + whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + </p> + <p> + Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was + unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he + came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's + lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed + dead. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my + lord--here, here!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="leonatus" id="leonatus"></a> Leonatus turned to strike the + forward page who thus interfered in his great trouble, and then he saw + that it was his wife, Imogen, and they fell into each other's arms. + </p> + <p> + The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to + the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he + gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, and + the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + </p> + <p> + “I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had + only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole + your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two + boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a + boy like themselves. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with + his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + </p> + <p> + So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever after. + So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the world's end. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="macbeth" id="macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two + stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of Scotland + by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly and well, on + the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part of Scottish + history. The other story issues from a place called Imagination; it is + gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + </p> + <p> + A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a battle + was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals named Macbeth + and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together towards Forres, + in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was awaiting them. + </p> + <p> + While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, + sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="witches" id="witches"></a> “Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + </p> + <p> + Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou shalt + be the father of kings.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of + Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his + children live. Speak, I charge you!” + </p> + <p> + The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the + air. + </p> + <p> + Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, and + were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of them + thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and the + other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title was + to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch + called me, 'King that is to be.'” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth2" id="macbeth2"></a> “Banquo,” he said, “you see that the + witches spoke truth concerning me. Do you not believe, therefore, that + your child and grandchild will be kings?” + </p> + <p> + Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he deemed + it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. He told + Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them both into + villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, however, + thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to keep to + himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + </p> + <p> + Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died in + defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by whose + order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder of bitter + wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she read his + letter, she was determined that he should be King. + </p> + <p> + When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in + Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + </p> + <p> + She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend a + sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are + blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, with + his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared his + guest. + </p> + <p> + “Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have + thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth3" id="macbeth3"></a> “I dare do all that may become a man,” + replied Macbeth; “who dare do more is none.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with + bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she showed + him how to do it. + </p> + <p> + After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at + his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were + stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King + herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon + with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a + voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + </p> + <p> + “Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the + grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” said Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a + heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + </p> + <p> + The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking which + could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain of + Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to him, + and showed him the door of the King's room. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth4" id="macbeth4"></a> Macduff entered, and came out again + crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he + could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms + with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + </p> + <p> + These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. One of + Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was King. But + he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed his mind. If + Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. Macbeth determined, + therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He hired two ruffians, who + slew Banquo one night when he was on his way with Fleance to a banquet + which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. Fleance escaped. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, and + he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of times + since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both.” + </p> + <p> + “We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but + ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall + and sat in Macbeth's place. + </p> + <p> + Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, he + could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry of + Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + </p> + <p> + The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's + ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + </p> + <p> + But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a form + of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have done + this?” + </p> + <p> + Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou + canst not say I did it.” + </p> + <p> + The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass of + wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend + Banquo, whom we miss.” + </p> + <p> + The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the earth, + thou horrible shadow.” + </p> + <p> + Again none saw the ghost but he. + </p> + <p> + “What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + </p> + <p> + The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She + hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow + worse if he was obliged to talk. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches + whose prophecies had so depraved him. + </p> + <p> + He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round a + cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible + creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first witch. + </p> + <p> + “Call them,” replied Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the + flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so + that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He knows + thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware Macduff, the + chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the cauldron till it + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned child + ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child said-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + </p> + <p> + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's + descendants would ever rule Scotland. + </p> + <p> + The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of + phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In each + king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + </p> + <p> + Then he was suddenly left alone. + </p> + <p> + His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They did + not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave a stinging + answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou liest!” shouted + Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and with his last + breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not leave the castle + while one of its inmates remained alive. + </p> + <p> + Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of + cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell + him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not speak + the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers relieved by + royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said that England + was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross blurted out his + news, and Macduff cried, “<i>All</i> dead, did you say? <i>All</i> my + pretty ones and their mother? Did you say <i>all</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into Macbeth's + castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force more solemn + than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was mad. She + walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash her hands + for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, would still + see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to hear her cry that + all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her little hand. + </p> + <p> + “Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the + doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own + mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the + dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + </p> + <p> + One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and + said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered + Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of + air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + </p> + <p> + Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. + Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he + had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="fight2" id="fight2"></a> From the turret windows of Dunsinane + Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed appear to be marching. Every soldier of the + English army held aloft a bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, + and like human trees they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and + the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single + combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when + Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; I + have spilt too much of your blood already.” + </p> + <p> + “My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade him + yield. + </p> + <p> + “I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a + King's head by the hair. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + </p> + <p> + So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the + descendants of Banquo were kings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="aemilia" id="aemilia"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="comedy" id="comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His + wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, + and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the + Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had + been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were + exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the + same. + </p> + <p> + And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where these + children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born to a much + poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were the parents + of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the other twins. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, and in + treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed homewards. + </p> + <p> + They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the + crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of + their passengers. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the + slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining + children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and hoped + for safety. + </p> + <p> + The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and + AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from AEgeon + and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by some + people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the babies from + her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very miserable. + Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia Minor. + </p> + <p> + AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than AEmilia, + he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were eighteen. + His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he called Dromio; + and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the children who + floated away from him. + </p> + <p> + At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a + desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and + the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dromio" id="dromio"></a> Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary + to dwell in, and traveled for five years. He did not, during his absence, + learn all the news of Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was + arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of + Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky + enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had angrily + passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand pounds any + Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought before Solinus, + Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a thousand pounds + before the end of the day. + </p> + <p> + You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children + who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of + Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of Duke + Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio + of Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of Syracuse + landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in order to + avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of Syracuse, + and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till he came. + </p> + <p> + In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, his + brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. “Why are + you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked Antipholus of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on + the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that his + mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he asked + Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without delay. + His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he had not + fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found that his gold + had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + </p> + <p> + He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him + with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and + Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and + she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio of + Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, you + may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was really + her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet unless I + said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not know + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent + Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; I + have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine with me + and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of + disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where a + very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + </p> + <p> + They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio + demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by + heart. + </p> + <p> + From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was + Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + </p> + <p> + Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and + finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his wife + that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to another + woman. + </p> + <p> + Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be her + sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone with him, + to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he was not + married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a mermaid, he + would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her floating + golden hair. + </p> + <p> + Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to Adriana, + who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be seen or + heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo the + goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which he + had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + </p> + <p> + The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated his + “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took the + chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He offered + payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse" id="syracuse"></a> The consequence was that Angelo was + without money when a creditor of the sort that stands no nonsense, + threatened him with arrest unless he paid his debt immediately. This + creditor had brought a police officer with him, and Angelo was relieved to + see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of the house where he had been dining + because he had been locked out of The Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay + when Antipholus denied receipt of the chain. Angelo could have sent his + mother to prison if she had said that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus + in charge. + </p> + <p> + At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus + that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. To + the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He would + gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly telling + him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband a purse + of money which she would find in his desk. + </p> + <p> + Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had + been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from getting + the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master + immediately. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his + real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what he + meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further + surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he + had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of + Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. + “Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she + received. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was to + have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger when + Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch a + purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the slave in + the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; and his temper + did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived under the + impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He raged so much + that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of Adriana spared him + this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of him, and asked the + doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse2" id="syracuse2"></a> Angelo's merchant creditor being + paid, the two were friendly again, and might soon have been seen chatting + before an abbey about the odd behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” + said the merchant at last, “that's he, I think.” + </p> + <p> + It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, and he + wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly pounced + upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the chain he had + the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his temper, and drew + his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several others appeared. “Hold!” + shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is mad. Take his sword away. + Bind him--and Dromio too.” + </p> + <p> + Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, + “Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + </p> + <p> + Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, + and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + </p> + <p> + “To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + </p> + <p> + Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was mad. + </p> + <p> + Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, for + the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that if her + husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the present. + </p> + <p> + Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and + behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two + others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had + not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + </p> + <p> + Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a + woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing + his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + </p> + <p> + The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the order + than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that his + master had singed off the doctor's beard. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his brother + of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, “Justice, + most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to Adriana. “She has + treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="amelia" id="amelia"></a> Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, + “Unless I am delirious, I see my son Antipholus.” + </p> + <p> + No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the + doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang who + tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he had + escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + </p> + <p> + The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was seen + to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked + Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw my + father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to the + brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to + acknowledge me in misery.” + </p> + <p> + Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio + of Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and + Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + </p> + <p> + It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by + paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I am + thy wife AEmilia.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband + reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in + the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. + Will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + </p> + <p> + The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="casketcolor" id="casketcolor"></a> <img + src="images/venice1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Choosing the Casket + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="venice" id="venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were + on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with + England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very + generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of + his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + </p> + <p> + Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless + and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his + fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio for + further help. + </p> + <p> + “To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I + have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + </p> + <p> + Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all + quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because + she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked on + me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should win + her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to + Belmont, where she lives.” + </p> + <p> + “All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready + money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for you + what you need.” + </p> + <p> + There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named + Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated him + with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a cur, + over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted to all + these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he cherished + a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio both hurt his + pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought Shylock, “I should + be richer by half a million ducats. On the market place, and wherever he + can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, and--worse than that--he + lends out money freely.” + </p> + <p> + So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats to + Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to Antonio, + said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with you and + have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no interest. + But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be agreed that + if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall have the right + to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of your body I choose.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the + time. I will sign the bond.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to woo + the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's pretty + daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her lover, and + she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of ducats and + precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to see. His love + for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my feet and the jewels + in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in hearing of the serious + losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose ships were wrecked. “Let + him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him look to his bond.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. + He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and beauty + had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them Portia had + but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would pledge himself + to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were conditions that + frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would win Portia's heart + and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held her portrait. If he + guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if wrong, then he was + bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, never to marry, and + to go away at once. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="morocco" id="morocco"></a> The caskets were of gold, silver, and + lead. The gold one bore this inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain + what many men desire;” the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall + get as much as he deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who + chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as + brave as he was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He + chose the gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could + contain her picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the + likeness of what many men desire--death. + </p> + <p> + After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have + what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and + found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from making + his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved him dearly, + even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at once, for, + as I am, I live upon the rack.” + </p> + <p> + Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant + lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the + caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he + said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and + so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; joy + be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait + inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bond" id="bond"></a> “Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house + is yours, and with them I give you this ring, from which you must never + part.” + </p> + <p> + And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to + swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers + came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock + demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was + entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as + Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + </p> + <p> + “First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then go + to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money + enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + </p> + <p> + But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and + arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from a + celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in to + decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of + Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the + money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's + only answer was-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + </p> + <p> + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + </p> + <p> + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her + own husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great + Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. Then + in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her + entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + </p> + <p> + “But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the + money-lender. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="home" id="home"></a> “Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A + sentence: come, prepare.” + </p> + <p> + “Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only to + his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property will + be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + </p> + <p> + And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take + your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even by + the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + </p> + <p> + Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats + that I lent him, and let him go.” + </p> + <p> + Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have + nothing but his bond.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ring" id="ring"></a> “You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to + take the life of a Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your + life and goods are forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to Shylock + had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender forfeited half + his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other half on his + daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + </p> + <p> + Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part with + the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised never to + part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to Portia, + she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with him until + she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was she who, in + the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and got the ring + from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier than ever, to know + how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the caskets. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="timon" id="timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens + whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but no + worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If + anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. + If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was + offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he + would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in + front of Timon to receive double its market price. + </p> + <p> + Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. + When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly + wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, + “There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those + singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a + night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of + his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees + them not!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="timon2" id="timon2"></a> Of course, Timon was much praised. + </p> + <p> + A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect + till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon + gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, “O, + he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” said + another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; and + other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + </p> + <p> + But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to + knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + </p> + <p> + “You will die for that,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know + what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + </p> + <p> + This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, + because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number of + acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not shun + them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, and is + inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + </p> + <p> + Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, + after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and + the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise man + has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and he did + not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and + furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected + him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day + Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said to his + steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a hundred, + thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of the world + if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="picture" id="picture"></a> “Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try + Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius because he had once got Ventidius out + of prison by paying a creditor of this young man. Ventidius was now rich. + Timon trusted in his gratitude. But not for all; so much did he owe! + Servants were despatched with requests for loans of money to several + friends: + </p> + <p> + One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus + said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last night.” + Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, perfect + gentleman, your master, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, jovially. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I beg + you to fill with money, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! ha!” + “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. I've + warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you know this + is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you act like a good + boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three solidares for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + </p> + <p> + Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was + Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is + beholden to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in + affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent + him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of a + lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a + banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in the + least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and said + to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + </p> + <p> + “I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said + Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="box" id="box"></a> “It was a real grief to me to be without ready + money when he asked for some,” said Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + </p> + <p> + Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies and + compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + </p> + <p> + In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. Mouths + watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + </p> + <p> + “Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the gods + of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are our gods, + were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men love the + joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain twenty + villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. Uncover the + dishes, dogs, and lap!” + </p> + <p> + The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. They + thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, they + uncovered the dishes. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in them but warm water. + </p> + <p> + “May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the + flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your + villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, and + then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, he + went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + </p> + <p> + His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + </p> + <p> + Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a + handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, + having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. The + thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not soften + Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern the fact that + good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He determined to see + nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of Ventidius and the + meanness of Lucullus. + </p> + <p> + He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the earth + for food. + </p> + <p> + One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck + gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, + and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold vein + gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, “will + make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. It will + buy murder and bless the accursed.” + </p> + <p> + He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached + with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades + did not recognize him at first. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon would + none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when they found + he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his opinion of them, + but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you more?” + </p> + <p> + With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and + then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could + have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + </p> + <p> + Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug + up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + </p> + <p> + Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said + Apemantus. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can imitate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said + Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as they + ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="sullen" id="sullen"></a> “If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should + throw myself away.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a + good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + </p> + <p> + “Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told + him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a + pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + </p> + <p> + Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he was + sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him with an + evil wish. + </p> + <p> + This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had + departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + </p> + <p> + “You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + </p> + <p> + “No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it + poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full + pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that day + of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “Away! What are you?” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you + are a man, I have forgotten you.” + </p> + <p> + “I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + </p> + <p> + Flavius began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you + because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh or + beg.” + </p> + <p> + They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you + rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. I + will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh + slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die + in jail before you pay his debt.” + </p> + <p> + Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his back + on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to + obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + </p> + <p> + The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty + nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon + therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom he + had patronized in his prosperity. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how your + friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + </p> + <p> + “We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + </p> + <p> + “You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I did + not come for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of + gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + </p> + <p> + “Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” answered + Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, “Put that + into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a whack to the + poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for it. There's gold + for you.” + </p> + <p> + They hurriedly withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was + threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter noble + whose gold might help the foe. + </p> + <p> + “Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you + dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + </p> + <p> + “Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, and + more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + </p> + <p> + “Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; + you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could + save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” they + said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and + seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + </p> + <p> + The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown + before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, + who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They + looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield if + he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper than + arrows. + </p> + <p> + “These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged you, + Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your + revenge needs human flesh.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will + inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble + general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, “He + is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone with + letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed them on + wax.” + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + </p> + <p> + all living men did hate. + </p> + <p> + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + </p> + <p> + and stay not here your gait.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> “Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens + with an olive branch instead of a sword. + </p> + <p> + So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter than + Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a warning + lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="othello" id="othello">OTHELLO</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, + who hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead + of Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, + whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago had + a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he could + not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + </p> + <p> + Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called + him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been + vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great + traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. Brave + as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a terrible + selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as absolutely + as he possessed something that did not live and think. The story of + Othello is a story of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="adventures" id="adventures"></a> One night Iago told Roderigo that + Othello had carried off Desdemona without the knowledge of her father, + Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo to arouse Brabantio, and when that + senator appeared Iago told him of Desdemona's elopement in the most + unpleasant way. Though he was Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and + a Barbary horse. + </p> + <p> + Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to + fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used was + his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth escapes. + Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained how she + could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I saw + Othello's visage in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there + was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to + go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to + go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him + at Cyprus. + </p> + <p> + Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, + my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and + Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with + my own happiness.” + </p> + <p> + News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he + proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + </p> + <p> + Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago + decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, as + Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought wine + into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and so + Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="othello2" id="othello2"></a> When Cassio was inclined to be + quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say something unpleasant to him. Cassio + cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the presence of Montano, the ex-governor. + Montano civilly interceded for Roderigo, but received so rude an answer + from Cassio that he said, “Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded + him, and Iago sent Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + </p> + <p> + The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I + love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + </p> + <p> + On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about + his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. “O + God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an enemy + in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + </p> + <p> + Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio was + pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to Desdemona in + the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and said, “Be merry, + Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your cause.” + </p> + <p> + Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired + hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Iago said, “I don't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something + unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio + who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was + Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who + stole away in that guilty manner.” + </p> + <p> + Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio + retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part + when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. + Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona + told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + </p> + <p> + Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that + Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now + very clear. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective + inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + </p> + <p> + To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. + He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who + steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name + ruins me.” + </p> + <p> + At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident of + his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no other + than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the + meat it feeds on.” + </p> + <p> + Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the remark + that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. “If she + deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + </p> + <p> + Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. She + saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his forehead. + Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello had given her. A + prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this handkerchief from the + silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a liquid prepared from the hearts of + maidens, and embroidered it with strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of + it simply as a cool, soft thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell + upon it that would work destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it + round your head,” she said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But + Othello pettishly said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he + then went indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which + Iago had often asked her to steal. + </p> + <p> + She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he + snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="wine" id="wine"></a> In the garden he was joined by Othello, who + seemed hungry for the worst lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello + that he had seen Cassio wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because + it was spotted with strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had + given his wife. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness + that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I + accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that + Cassio is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. + Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry + pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to + copy it for him. + </p> + <p> + Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona + about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation between + Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's sweetheart, + and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was Desdemona. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + </p> + <p> + “The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, + adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the + matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like + the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's + fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he + prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not the + dog I shall throw it to.” + </p> + <p> + Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea + that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the + embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the + handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + </p> + <p> + Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech + inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise his + wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the needle, her + voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her wit, her + sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised her Iago said + something that made him remember his anger and utter it foully, and yet he + must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of + it, Iago!” + </p> + <p> + There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there + had been he might have wavered then. + </p> + <p> + “Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + </p> + <p> + The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a relative + of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter for Othello from + the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from Cyprus, and gave the + governorship to Cassio. + </p> + <p> + Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit + of Cassio. + </p> + <p> + “Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + </p> + <p> + “It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, and + he told her what it contained. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that Othello's + unkindness had wrung out of her. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her + face. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="handkerchief" id="handkerchief"></a> Now was the time for Desdemona + to have saved her life by separation, but she knew not her peril--only + that her love was wounded to the core. “I have not deserved this,” she + said, and the tears rolled slowly down her face. + </p> + <p> + Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not be + believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in his + nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and roared, + “Out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + “I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in + going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and + his guests. + </p> + <p> + Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, to + Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the + company. + </p> + <p> + Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family quarrels, + and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico asked Iago + for an explanation. + </p> + <p> + True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse + than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from + the discomfort of answering any more questions. + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune + with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona + without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + </p> + <p> + Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's house, + Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, and + Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo as his + assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient friend, + called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + </p> + <p> + At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she must + leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. “It was + his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + </p> + <p> + She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to her--a + song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though it + weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + </p> + <p> + She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed + to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask + God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not + kill thy soul,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to + confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything + that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="weeping" id="weeping"></a> Then Desdemona wept, but with violent + words, in spite of all her pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and + mortally hurt her. + </p> + <p> + Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, and + Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A guiltless + death I die.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. + Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came running + in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, Emilia told + the truth. + </p> + <p> + And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he + exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + </p> + <p> + But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a + relief from torture. + </p> + <p> + They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he + escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the + Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. Say + I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and say + that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I took him + by the throat and smote him thus.” + </p> + <p> + With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his + lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="katherinecolor" id="katherinecolor"></a> <img + src="images/shrew1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Petruchio and Katherine + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="schrew" id="schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair + daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, and + unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her sister, + Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more than one + suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the elder daughter + must marry first. + </p> + <p> + So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to + marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to + their suit for Bianca. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought of, + and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the + disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just the + sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he himself + would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + </p> + <p> + Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his gentle + daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she was anything + but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, complaining that the + naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, because he told her she + was not playing correctly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to + have some chat with her.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="master" id="master"></a> When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, + Kate--for that, I hear, is your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and + sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every + town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable + things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + </p> + <p> + “If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still + protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + </p> + <p> + When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + </p> + <p> + “How speed you with my daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + </p> + <p> + “How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ears" id="ears"></a> “I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you + are acting a father's part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. You + should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will go + off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! we + will be married on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent + temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in + love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was + not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her + rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she did + indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + </p> + <p> + To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the + wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was + ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby + way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + </p> + <p> + And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, + Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or drink--saying + that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with her. + </p> + <p> + And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in + so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. + He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by + rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the + way. + </p> + <p> + She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was + determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had + made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never + forget. + </p> + <p> + So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served he + found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and ill-served, + and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but the best. At + last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless to bed. Then + her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how anxious he was + that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, throwing the pillows + and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not go to bed at all, and + still kept growling and scolding at the servants so that Kate might see + how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + </p> + <p> + The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught + away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for + want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + </p> + <p> + “I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + </p> + <p> + “What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's + secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would + she like tripe? + </p> + <p> + “Bring it me,” said Katharine. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the servant. + “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + </p> + <p> + “I love it,” said Kate. + </p> + <p> + “But mustard is too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was + getting hungrier and hungrier. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or + anything thou wilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + </p> + <p> + Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun to + satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new + clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine + was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made for + her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and gown on + the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish things. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="supper" id="supper"></a> “I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All + gentlewomen wear such caps as these--” + </p> + <p> + “When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not till + then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but privately + asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the sun + breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit. + It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to see + that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and her + sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get there.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, + whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't go + to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + </p> + <p> + At last they started for her father's house. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the moon,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + “I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or + whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, for + from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and never + again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + </p> + <p> + So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found + all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly + married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat + down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing + Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many + disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and + froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with such + spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the new + bride. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh + against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear you + have got the veriest shrew of all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us shall + send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the one whose + wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree on.” + </p> + <p> + The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the most + dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + </p> + <p> + They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or + hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + </p> + <p> + “Content,” cried the others. + </p> + <p> + Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to + him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the + servant coming back, said-- + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + </p> + <p> + “There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh--if you <i>entreat</i> her,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will + not be entreated.” + </p> + <p> + But now the servant came in, and said-- + </p> + <p> + “She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I + <i>command</i> her to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and + that she would not come. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking by the parlor fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch them here.” + </p> + <p> + When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Here is a wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + </p> + <p> + “It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add another + twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another + daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + </p> + <p> + So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife and + true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her well, + and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they lived + happy ever afterwards. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="measure" id="measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were + governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was + excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + </p> + <p> + The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna was + enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief secretary + showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, that wrongdoers + must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He knew that, if he were + suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause people to call him a + tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council that he must go to + Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen Angelo to rule in my + absence,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean man. + He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have nothing + to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana lived + forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, and + loving him still. + </p> + <p> + Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called Thomas + and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of giving + religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to stay at + home and see how Angelo governed. + </p> + <p> + Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young man + named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would only be + punished by severe reproof. + </p> + <p> + Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of freedom + for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead with + Angelo. + </p> + <p> + Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, + and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + </p> + <p> + An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but not + kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy + than is in the law.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine + the next morning. + </p> + <p> + After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the + condemned man desired to see him. + </p> + <p> + “Admit her,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor to + your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased the + beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she + continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A fault + cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault went + free.” + </p> + <p> + She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You are + too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + </p> + <p> + So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon + him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis too + late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with reasons, + and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dress" id="dress"></a> She told him that nothing becomes power like + mercy. She told him that humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, + that it was good to have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a + giant. She told him that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. + She bade him look for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to + refrain from making it an argument against her brother's life. + </p> + <p> + Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's + beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for the + love of man. + </p> + <p> + He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + </p> + <p> + She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a few + hours.' + </p> + <p> + In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his + judicial duty. + </p> + <p> + When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother cannot + live.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. Heaven + keep your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight + in comparison with the loss of her. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + </p> + <p> + “Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay + upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the just + man he pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. At + first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. But when + he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by marrying + Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and he + exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + </p> + <p> + “O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to request + some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose + love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let + Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, + in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would + marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it + might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly + like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They + were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="angelo" id="angelo"></a> In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, + seeing a man dressed like a friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, + friar?” “I have none,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one about + the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and called the + Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love him. “The + Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the Duke, + grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he thought + of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a friar, + replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to see + another merry to being merry himself.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the two + girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They went into + a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and while they + talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the window and saw + the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which betrayed Mariana's + indifference to her country dwelling. Some women would have beautified + their garden: not she. She was for the town; she neglected the joys of the + country. He was sure that Angelo would not make her unhappier. + </p> + <p> + “We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + </p> + <p> + So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, + and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone which + flashed in the light with secret colors. + </p> + <p> + Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared to + learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, + however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His + amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever + you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the + clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + </p> + <p> + But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another head,” + and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the hand and + seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows it not. + Give Angelo another head.” + </p> + <p> + The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's + signet and I know his hand.” + </p> + <p> + He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the age + of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + </p> + <p> + The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its + resemblance to Claudio's. + </p> + <p> + The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city gates + from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and Escalus duly + presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their conduct of + affairs in the Duke's absence. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, + passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried + for justice. + </p> + <p> + When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a + slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Friar Lodowick,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against your + Grace.” + </p> + <p> + A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took off + her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was worth + looking on.” + </p> + <p> + Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand + which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage between + us, but I found her frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. + Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar + Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + “He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the missing + witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and + accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as + abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, + that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled + for his impudence. + </p> + <p> + “To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, + the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve + you, work it for all it's worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + “Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to + Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + </p> + <p> + “Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is now + your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but well + the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said the + Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid his + head!” + </p> + <p> + “O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="prince" id="prince"></a> “O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no + better man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned + inflexibility. + </p> + <p> + “Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio was executed at an unusual + hour?” + </p> + <p> + Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, “I + had a private message.” + </p> + <p> + “You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then + departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer + death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost + re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I saved this + man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to Isabella, “I + pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my brother, too, if + you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + </p> + <p> + She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the + Provost. + </p> + <p> + Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="verona" id="verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. + Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived at + Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name because + it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a Valentine to + be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because it was that of + a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him to be a lover at + one time and a traitor at another. + </p> + <p> + One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm not in + love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, who + was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry to + part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, and + I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant called + Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's daughter, + Silvia. + </p> + <p> + When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she + loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in the + presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, for + when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be + annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone + than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her + heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So by + tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved him. + Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, and you + shall marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's + letter and talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Let me read it,” said Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is very + happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I were + with him.” + </p> + <p> + This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go to + Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go + to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my + outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent + after you.” + </p> + <p> + It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two + days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and he + gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till + death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him + under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that she + wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well of, + but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike + writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. “Take + it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="silvia" id="silvia"></a> “Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not + write tenderly enough.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; but + his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed + Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The + joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He meant + that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: “If + master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + </p> + <p> + On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and + afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love for + Julia was prospering. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink + all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + </p> + <p> + “You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “She is divine,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="theletter" id="theletter"></a> “Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all + women on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Except Julia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant that + she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + </p> + <p> + “Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired Julia + was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without delay, and + said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself am dearer than + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by the + power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the evil + moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did not + change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to him + the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. “In + the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope ladder, + with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. The + Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom she did + not care a straw. + </p> + <p> + Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make Silvia + fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring Sir Thurio's + tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, “Duty before + friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, but your Grace + should know that he intends to-night to elope with your Grace's daughter.” + He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver of this information, + and the Duke assured him that his name would not be divulged. + </p> + <p> + Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing a + large cloak with a bulging pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir Thurio?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man + so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, proud, + disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I intend, + therefore, to marry again.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the + Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to win + the lady of my choice.” + </p> + <p> + “Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried them,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised + to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in + fact, locked up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a rope + ladder.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="serenade" id="serenade"></a> “But how should I carry it?” asked the + Duke. + </p> + <p> + “A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + </p> + <p> + “Like yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend his + cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the pocket a + sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and read these + words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but + not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are in + Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the + day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + </p> + <p> + Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of the + first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; “walk + hence with that.” + </p> + <p> + After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest near + Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, the + poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They obeyed, + and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that they + offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + </p> + <p> + “I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are not + violent to women or the poor.” + </p> + <p> + The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + </p> + <p> + We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since Proteus + had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which she could + see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and she talked so + sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta would bear the + blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia therefore said that she + intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + </p> + <p> + “You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at this + announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + </p> + <p> + “I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia had + made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her + toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to + see. + </p> + <p> + Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to + hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + </p> + <p> + “They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It was + the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + </p> + <p> + That all our swains commend her? + </p> + <p> + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + </p> + <p> + The heaven such grace did lend her + </p> + <p> + That she might admired be.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow + thundered into her mind-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + </p> + <p> + She excels each mortal thing.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so + beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only + false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She even + went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + </p> + <p> + One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, + “Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the + picture of her she promised me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="outlaws" id="outlaws"></a> Silvia had promised the picture, but she + disliked Proteus. She was obliged to talk to him because he was high in + the favor of her father, who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir + Thurio. Silvia had learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a + sweetheart in Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that + he was disloyal in friendship as well as love. + </p> + <p> + Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the + woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + </p> + <p> + “She thanks you,” said Julia. + </p> + <p> + “You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of herself + that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + </p> + <p> + Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it the + worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made up her + mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + </p> + <p> + Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + </p> + <p> + The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled Valentine, + and he was not wrong. + </p> + <p> + Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some + servants. + </p> + <p> + The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia (in + her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had been + taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. Proteus + rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give me one kind + look.” + </p> + <p> + “O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a lion's + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia + that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + </p> + <p> + “O heaven!” cried Silvia. + </p> + <p> + At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came + crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia + feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But he + struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust you + more.” + </p> + <p> + Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive + me! I grieve! I suffer!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If + Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that I + will stand aside and bless you both.” + </p> + <p> + These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived + her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the + Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia + before he left Verona. + </p> + <p> + Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + </p> + <p> + “I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “But I love you again,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. Your + banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask you + one more boon.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better + than their calling.” + </p> + <p> + “I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be + for wages.” + </p> + <p> + “What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating + Julia. + </p> + <p> + The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + </p> + <p> + “More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment + which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and friendship + was the recital in his presence of the adventures of Julia-Sebastian of + Verona. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="well" id="well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of + Rousillon was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her + husband, and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, + hundreds of miles away. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, and + eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make him, and + would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. But a + pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + </p> + <p> + Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service of + the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her + father's prescriptions. + </p> + <p> + When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the Countess, + who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her own child. Tears + then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the Countess made + Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. The Countess + guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that Bertram was to her + as the sun is to the day. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bertram" id="bertram"></a> She hoped, however, to win this sun by + earning the gratitude of the King of France, who suffered from a lingering + illness, which made him lame. The great doctors attached to the Court + despaired of curing him, but Helena had confidence in a prescription which + her father had used with success. + </p> + <p> + Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was + allowed to see the King. + </p> + <p> + He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would not + become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief which all + the learned doctors cannot give me.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared + that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + </p> + <p> + “And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I + choose!” + </p> + <p> + So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering king. + Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the royal + cripple could skip. + </p> + <p> + He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the throne + room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been dazzled, and + seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome young noblemen + before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found Bertram. Then she + went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, but I am yours!” + Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, “This is the Man!” + </p> + <p> + “Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + </p> + <p> + “My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to + choose a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the + monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who + owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + </p> + <p> + “You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said + the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and + he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not + distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a + bowl.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge him + not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. + “Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you are + so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + </p> + <p> + Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your + interest in her. I submit.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her by the hand,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="king" id="king"></a> Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was + married to Helena. + </p> + <p> + Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped to + sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that now he + had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay at home. + “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made Bertram + feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the war in + Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + </p> + <p> + Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, + giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding + her a cold good-bye. + </p> + <p> + She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get + the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' I + write 'never.'” + </p> + <p> + Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said + farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from his + own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in + trouble, and help you.” + </p> + <p> + She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made him + wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and handed + her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I have run + away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always far away + from her.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name + out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay + the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, and, + leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for Florence. + </p> + <p> + On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' + House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with her. + </p> + <p> + Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter + named Diana. + </p> + <p> + When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman of + yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But after a + time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of Helena's + husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the fact that + he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife was not worth + caring for. + </p> + <p> + The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her + that she was the Countess Rousillon. + </p> + <p> + “He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + </p> + <p> + Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the + same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of + gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will + help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her hair + to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his finger. + It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, yet he + will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your daughter + insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark room, and + agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + </p> + <p> + The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She + said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + </p> + <p> + Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off a lock + of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to Bertram that + he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her into the dark + room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, and felt a sweet + face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he left the room + satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on his finger was a + ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + </p> + <p> + The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught Bertram + that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his + “kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such a + boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French officers + played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost his drum, + and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in the attempt. + His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the story of a + heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="letter" id="letter"></a> “Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been blindfolded. + </p> + <p> + “He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as + interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me + like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there + were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with + spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told Diana + that he was a fool. + </p> + <p> + “This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + </p> + <p> + Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and was + not addicted to boasting. + </p> + <p> + We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her death, + which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, a lord + who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + </p> + <p> + The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed for + Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it accomplished. + </p> + <p> + “His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + </p> + <p> + Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said + that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he + would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + </p> + <p> + “Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget sweet + Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's + Helena's!” + </p> + <p> + “It's not!” said Bertram. + </p> + <p> + Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring I + gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So you + had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother said + it was. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they + were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana + had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, + craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition + signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to + marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="widow" id="widow"></a> “I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than + take Bertram now,” said Lafeu. + </p> + <p> + “Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied that + Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was spent + in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it was to whom + he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now missing from his + finger? + </p> + <p> + Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning + generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + </p> + <p> + “Do I see reality?” asked the King. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + </p> + <p> + She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will + you love me, Bertram?” + </p> + <p> + “To the end of my life,” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in + them. + </p> + <p> + The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy + young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had wished + to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to himself. His + pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a husband of some + sort after all. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="quotations" id="quotations"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ACTION. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + </p> + <p> + More learned than their ears. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVERSITY. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Sweet are the uses of adversity, + </p> + <p> + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + </p> + <p> + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + </p> + <p> + And follows but for form, + </p> + <p> + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + </p> + <p> + And leave thee in the storm. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + </p> + <p> + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + </p> + <p> + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + </p> + <p> + These flies are couched. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Give thy thoughts no tongue, + </p> + <p> + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + </p> + <p> + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + </p> + <p> + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + </p> + <p> + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + </p> + <p> + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + </p> + <p> + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + </p> + <p> + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + </p> + <p> + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + </p> + <p> + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + </p> + <p> + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + </p> + <p> + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + </p> + <p> + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + </p> + <p> + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + </p> + <p> + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + </p> + <p> + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + </p> + <p> + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + </p> + <p> + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + </p> + <p> + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + </p> + <p> + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + </p> + <p> + And it must follow, as the night the day, + </p> + <p> + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AGE. + </p> + <p> + My May of life Is + </p> + <p> + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + </p> + <p> + And that which should accompany old age, + </p> + <p> + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + </p> + <p> + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + </p> + <p> + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + </p> + <p> + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AMBITION. + </p> + <p> + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is + merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a + quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II 2. + </h4> + <p> + I charge thee fling away ambition; + </p> + <p> + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + </p> + <p> + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + </p> + <p> + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + </p> + <p> + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + </p> + <p> + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + </p> + <p> + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + </p> + <p> + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + </p> + <p> + Thy God's, and truth's. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ANGER. + </p> + <p> + Anger is like + </p> + <p> + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + </p> + <p> + Self-mettle tires him. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ARROGANCE. + </p> + <p> + There are a sort of men, whose visages + </p> + <p> + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + </p> + <p> + And do a willful stillness entertain, + </p> + <p> + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + </p> + <p> + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + </p> + <p> + As who should say, “i am Sir Oracle, + </p> + <p> + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + </p> + <p> + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + </p> + <p> + That therefore are reputed wise + </p> + <p> + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + </p> + <p> + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + </p> + <p> + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AUTHORITY. + </p> + <p> + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + </p> + <p> + And the creature run from the cur? + </p> + <p> + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + </p> + <p> + a dog's obeyed in office. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + Could great men thunder + </p> + <p> + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + </p> + <p> + For every pelting, petty officer + </p> + <p> + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + </p> + <p> + Merciful heaven! + </p> + <p> + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + </p> + <p> + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + </p> + <p> + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + </p> + <p> + Drest in a little brief authority -- + </p> + <p> + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + </p> + <p> + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + </p> + <p> + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + </p> + <p> + As make the angels weep. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BEAUTY. + </p> + <p> + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + </p> + <p> + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + </p> + <p> + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + </p> + <p> + of it ever fair. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + </p> + <p> + It so falls out + </p> + <p> + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + </p> + <p> + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + </p> + <p> + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + </p> + <p> + The virtue, that possession would not show us + </p> + <p> + Whiles it was ours. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BRAGGARTS. + </p> + <p> + It will come to pass, + </p> + <p> + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + </p> + <p> + are they not monsters? + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CALUMNY. + </p> + <p> + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + </p> + <p> + thou shalt not escape calumny. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + No might nor greatness in mortality + </p> + <p> + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + </p> + <p> + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + </p> + <p> + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CEREMONY. + </p> + <p> + Ceremony + </p> + <p> + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + </p> + <p> + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + </p> + <p> + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + </p> + <p> + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMFORT. + </p> + <p> + Men + </p> + <p> + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + </p> + <p> + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + </p> + <p> + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + </p> + <p> + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + </p> + <p> + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + </p> + <p> + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + </p> + <p> + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + </p> + <p> + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + </p> + <p> + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + </p> + <p> + To be so moral, when he shall endure + </p> + <p> + The like himself. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- II. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMPARISON. + </p> + <p> + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + </p> + <p> + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + </p> + <p> + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + </p> + <p> + Until a king be by; and then his state + </p> + <p> + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + </p> + <p> + Into the main of waters. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE. + </p> + <p> + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + </p> + <p> + And thus the native hue of resolution + </p> + <p> + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + </p> + <p> + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + </p> + <p> + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + </p> + <p> + And lose the name of action. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENT. + </p> + <p> + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + </p> + <p> + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + </p> + <p> + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + </p> + <p> + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTION. + </p> + <p> + How, in one house, + </p> + <p> + Should many people, under two commands, + </p> + <p> + Hold amity? + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When two authorities are set up, + </p> + <p> + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + </p> + <p> + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + </p> + <p> + The one by the other. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTMENT. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + </p> + <p> + And range with humble livers in content, + </p> + <p> + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + </p> + <p> + And wear a golden sorrow. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COWARDS. + </p> + <p> + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + </p> + <p> + The valiant never taste of death but once. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CUSTOM. + </p> + <p> + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + </p> + <p> + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + </p> + <p> + That to the use of actions fair and good + </p> + <p> + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + </p> + <p> + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + </p> + <p> + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + </p> + <p> + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + </p> + <p> + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + </p> + <p> + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + </p> + <p> + With wondrous potency. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + A custom + </p> + <p> + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEATH. + </p> + <p> + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + </p> + <p> + For that's the end of human misery. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + </p> + <p> + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + </p> + <p> + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + </p> + <p> + Will come, when it will come. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The dread of something after death, + </p> + <p> + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + </p> + <p> + Than fly to others we know not of. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + </p> + <p> + Will seize the doctor too. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DECEPTION. + </p> + <p> + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + </p> + <p> + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + </p> + <p> + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + </p> + <p> + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + </p> + <p> + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEEDS. + </p> + <p> + Foul deeds will rise, + </p> + <p> + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + </p> + <p> + Makes deeds ill done! + </p> + <h4> + King John -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELAY. + </p> + <p> + That we would do, + </p> + <p> + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + </p> + <p> + And hath abatements and delays as many, + </p> + <p> + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + </p> + <p> + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + </p> + <p> + That hurts by easing. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELUSION. + </p> + <p> + For love of grace, + </p> + <p> + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + </p> + <p> + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + </p> + <p> + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + </p> + <p> + Infects unseen. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DISCRETION. + </p> + <p> + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + </p> + <p> + Not to outsport discretion. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DOUBTS AND FEARS. + </p> + <p> + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + </p> + <p> + To saucy doubts and fears. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DRUNKENNESS. + </p> + <p> + Boundless intemperance. + </p> + <p> + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + </p> + <p> + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + </p> + <p> + And fall of many kings. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + </p> + <p> + Love all, trust a few, + </p> + <p> + Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy + </p> + <p> + Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend + </p> + <p> + Under thy own life's key; be checked for silence, + </p> + <p> + But never taxed for speech. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EQUIVOCATION. + </p> + <p> + But yet + </p> + <p> + I do not like but yet, it does allay + </p> + <p> + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + </p> + <p> + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + </p> + <p> + Some monstrous malefactor. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EXCESS. + </p> + <p> + A surfeit of the sweetest things + </p> + <p> + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + </p> + <p> + and the ingredient is a devil. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FALSEHOOD. + </p> + <p> + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + </p> + <p> + Three things that women hold in hate. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEAR. + </p> + <p> + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + </p> + <p> + Where it should guard. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + </p> + <p> + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + </p> + <p> + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEASTS. + </p> + <p> + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + </p> + <h4> + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + </p> + <p> + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + </p> + <p> + Than the sea-monster. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + </p> + <p> + To have a thankless child + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORETHOUGHT. + </p> + <p> + Determine on some course, + </p> + <p> + More than a wild exposure to each cause + </p> + <p> + That starts i' the way before thee. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Yield not thy neck + </p> + <p> + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + </p> + <p> + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTUNE. + </p> + <p> + When fortune means to men most good, + </p> + <p> + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + GREATNESS. + </p> + <p> + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + </p> + <p> + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + </p> + <p> + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + </p> + <p> + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + </p> + <p> + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + </p> + <p> + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + </p> + <p> + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + </p> + <p> + And then he falls, as I do. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + </p> + <p> + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HAPPINESS. + </p> + <p> + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + </p> + <p> + through another man's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HONESTY. + </p> + <p> + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + </p> + <p> + when a knave is not. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + </p> + <p> + one man picked out of ten thousand. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HYPOCRISY. + </p> + <p> + Devils soonest tempt, + </p> + <p> + resembling spirits of light. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + One may smile, and smile, + </p> + <p> + and be a villain. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INNOCENCE. + </p> + <p> + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + </p> + <p> + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INSINUATIONS. + </p> + <p> + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + </p> + <p> + That calumny doth use;-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + For calumny will sear + </p> + <p> + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + </p> + <p> + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + </p> + <p> + Ere you can say she's honest. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JEALOUSY. + </p> + <p> + Trifles, light as air, + </p> + <p> + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + </p> + <p> + As proofs of holy writ. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O beware of jealousy: + </p> + <p> + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + </p> + <p> + The meat it feeds on. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JESTS. + </p> + <p> + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + </p> + <p> + of him that hears it. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + He jests at scars, + </p> + <p> + that never felt a wound. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JUDGMENT. + </p> + <p> + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + </p> + <p> + That no king can corrupt. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LIFE. + </p> + <p> + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + </p> + <p> + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + </p> + <p> + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + </p> + <p> + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + </p> + <p> + Signifying nothing. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + We are such stuff + </p> + <p> + As dreams are made of, and our little life + </p> + <p> + Is rounded with a sleep. + </p> + <h4> + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LOVE. + </p> + <p> + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + </p> + <p> + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Sweet love, changing his property, + </p> + <p> + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + When love begins to sicken and decay, + </p> + <p> + It useth an enforced ceremony. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The course of true-love + </p> + <p> + never did run smooth. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Love looks not with the eyes, + </p> + <p> + but with the mind. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + She never told her love,-- + </p> + <p> + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + </p> + <p> + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + </p> + <p> + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + </p> + <p> + She sat like Patience on a monument, + </p> + <p> + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + </p> + <p> + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MAN. + </p> + <p> + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + </p> + <p> + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + </p> + <p> + how express and admirable! in action, how like + </p> + <p> + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + </p> + <p> + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERCY. + </p> + <p> + The quality of mercy is not strained: + </p> + <p> + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + </p> + <p> + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + </p> + <p> + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + </p> + <p> + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + </p> + <p> + The throned monarch better than his crown: + </p> + <p> + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + </p> + <p> + The attribute to awe and majesty, + </p> + <p> + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + </p> + <p> + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + </p> + <p> + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + </p> + <p> + It is an attribute to God himself; + </p> + <p> + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + </p> + <p> + When mercy seasons justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Consider this,-- + </p> + <p> + That, in the course of justice, none of us + </p> + <p> + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + </p> + <p> + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + </p> + <p> + The deeds of mercy. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERIT. + </p> + <p> + Who shall go about + </p> + <p> + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + </p> + <p> + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + </p> + <p> + To wear an undeserved dignity. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MODESTY. + </p> + <p> + It is the witness still of excellency, + </p> + <p> + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MORAL CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + </p> + <p> + That war against your own affections, + </p> + <p> + And the huge army of the world's desires. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MURDER. + </p> + <p> + The great King of kings + </p> + <p> + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + </p> + <p> + That thou shalt do no murder. + </p> + <p> + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + </p> + <p> + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + </p> + <p> + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MUSIC. + </p> + <p> + The man that hath no music in himself, + </p> + <p> + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + </p> + <p> + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + </p> + <p> + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + </p> + <p> + And his affections dark as Erebus: + </p> + <p> + Let no such man be trusted. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NAMES. + </p> + <p> + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + </p> + <p> + By any other name would smell as sweet. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Good name, in man, and woman, + </p> + <p> + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + </p> + <p> + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + </p> + <p> + But he, that filches from me my good name, + </p> + <p> + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + </p> + <p> + And makes me poor indeed. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NATURE. + </p> + <p> + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + </p> + <p> + Though it be honest, it is never good + </p> + <p> + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + </p> + <p> + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + </p> + <p> + Themselves, when they be felt. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OFFICE. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis the curse of service; + </p> + <p> + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + </p> + <p> + Not by the old gradation, where each second + </p> + <p> + Stood heir to the first. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPORTUNITY. + </p> + <p> + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + </p> + <p> + Shall never find it more. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + </p> + <p> + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + </p> + <p> + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + </p> + <p> + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + </p> + <p> + And we must take the current when it serves, + </p> + <p> + Or lose our ventures. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPRESSION. + </p> + <p> + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + </p> + <p> + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + </p> + <p> + Not you, correct them. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PAST AND FUTURE. + </p> + <p> + O thoughts of men accurst! + </p> + <p> + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PATIENCE. + </p> + <p> + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + </p> + <p> + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PEACE. + </p> + <p> + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + </p> + <p> + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + </p> + <p> + And neither party loser. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + I will use the olive with my sword: + </p> + <p> + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + </p> + <p> + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + I know myself now; and I feel within me + </p> + <p> + A peace above all earthly dignities, + </p> + <p> + A still and quiet conscience. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PENITENCE. + </p> + <p> + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + </p> + <p> + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + </p> + <p> + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PLAYERS. + </p> + <p> + All the world's a stage, + </p> + <p> + And all the men and women merely players: + </p> + <p> + They have their exits and their entrances; + </p> + <p> + And one man in his time plays many parts. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + </p> + <p> + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + </p> + <p> + not to speak it profanely, that, + </p> + <p> + neither having the accent of Christians, + </p> + <p> + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + </p> + <p> + have so strutted, and bellowed, + </p> + <p> + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + </p> + <p> + had made men and not made them well, + </p> + <p> + they imitated humanity so abominably. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + POMP. + </p> + <p> + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + </p> + <p> + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + </p> + <p> + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + </p> + <p> + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + </p> + <p> + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + </p> + <p> + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + </p> + <p> + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + </p> + <p> + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + </p> + <p> + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + </p> + <p> + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + </p> + <p> + the cripple. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRINCES AND TITLES. + </p> + <p> + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + </p> + <p> + An outward honor for an inward toil; + </p> + <p> + And, for unfelt imaginations, + </p> + <p> + They often feel a world of restless cares: + </p> + <p> + So that, between their titles, and low name, + </p> + <p> + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + QUARRELS. + </p> + <p> + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + </p> + <p> + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + </p> + <p> + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RAGE. + </p> + <p> + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPENTANCE. + </p> + <p> + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + </p> + <p> + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPUTATION. + </p> + <p> + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + </p> + <p> + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + </p> + <p> + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + </p> + <p> + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + </p> + <p> + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RETRIBUTION. + </p> + <p> + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + </p> + <p> + Make instruments to scourge us. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- V. S. + </h4> + <p> + If these men have defeated the law, + </p> + <p> + and outrun native punishment, + </p> + <p> + though they can outstrip men, + </p> + <p> + they have no wings to fly from God. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SCARS. + </p> + <p> + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + </p> + <p> + is a good livery of honor. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + To such as boasting show their scars, + </p> + <p> + A mock is due. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + </p> + <p> + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + </p> + <p> + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-EXERTION. + </p> + <p> + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + </p> + <p> + The fault is not in our stars, + </p> + <p> + But in ourselves. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-RELIANCE. + </p> + <p> + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + </p> + <p> + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + </p> + <p> + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + </p> + <p> + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SILENCE. + </p> + <p> + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + </p> + <p> + And in the modesty of fearful duty + </p> + <p> + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + </p> + <p> + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The silence often of pure innocence + </p> + <p> + Persuades, when speaking fails. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + </p> + <p> + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLANDER. + </p> + <p> + Slander, + </p> + <p> + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + </p> + <p> + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + </p> + <p> + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + </p> + <p> + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + </p> + <p> + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + </p> + <p> + This viperous slander enters. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLEEP. + </p> + <p> + The innocent sleep; + </p> + <p> + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + </p> + <p> + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + </p> + <p> + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + </p> + <p> + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SUICIDE. + </p> + <p> + Against self-slaughter + </p> + <p> + There is a prohibition so divine, + </p> + <p> + That cravens my weak hand. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TEMPERANCE. + </p> + <p> + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + </p> + <p> + For in my youth I never did apply + </p> + <p> + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + </p> + <p> + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + </p> + <p> + The means of weakness and debility: + </p> + <p> + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + </p> + <p> + Frosty, but kindly. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + THEORY AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + There was never yet philosopher, + </p> + <p> + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + </p> + <p> + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + </p> + <p> + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TREACHERY. + </p> + <p> + Though those, that are betrayed, + </p> + <p> + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + </p> + <p> + Stands in worse case of woe. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + VALOR. + </p> + <p> + The better part of valor is--discretion. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When Valor preys on reason, + </p> + <p> + It eats the sword it fights with. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + </p> + <p> + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + </p> + <p> + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WAR. + </p> + <p> + Take care + </p> + <p> + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + </p> + <p> + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WELCOME. + </p> + <p> + Welcome ever smiles, + </p> + <p> + And farewell goes out sighing. + </p> + <p> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WINE. + </p> + <p> + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + </p> + <p> + if it be well used. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + </p> + <p> + if thou hast no name to be known by, + </p> + <p> + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + </p> + <p> + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + </p> + <p> + to steal away their brains! + </p> + <p> + that we should with joy, revel, + </p> + <p> + pleasure, and applause, + </p> + <p> + transform ourselves into beasts! + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WOMAN. + </p> + <p> + A woman impudent and mannish grown + </p> + <p> + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORDS. + </p> + <p> + Words without thoughts + </p> + <p> + never to heaven go. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + </p> + <p> + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY CARE. + </p> + <p> + You have too much respect upon the world: + </p> + <p> + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY HONORS. + </p> + <p> + Not a man, for being simply man, + </p> + <p> + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + </p> + <p> + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + </p> + <p> + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + </p> + <p> + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + </p> + <p> + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + </p> + <p> + Do one pluck down another, and together + </p> + <p> + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif b/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bafe1f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif b/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4441a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif b/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b62241 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif b/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fd8c9c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif b/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1a21eb --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif b/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5e1763 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif b/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fe38f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif b/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc52bef --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream1.gif b/1430-h/images/dream1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6124e63 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream2.gif b/1430-h/images/dream2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f444cfa --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream3.gif b/1430-h/images/dream3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52f2773 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream4.gif b/1430-h/images/dream4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6098d06 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream5.gif b/1430-h/images/dream5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bff091 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/dream6.gif b/1430-h/images/dream6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7a156a --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/dream6.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/errors1.gif b/1430-h/images/errors1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43832f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/errors1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/errors2.gif b/1430-h/images/errors2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e88037c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/errors2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/errors3.gif b/1430-h/images/errors3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d2ba37 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/errors3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/errors4.gif b/1430-h/images/errors4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6ce467 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/errors4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif b/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..138f7c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif b/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38732f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif b/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec69896 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/klear1.gif b/1430-h/images/klear1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74f952c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/klear1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/klear2.gif b/1430-h/images/klear2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1eb2ab8 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/klear2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/klear3.gif b/1430-h/images/klear3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8df939b --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/klear3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/maan1.gif b/1430-h/images/maan1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfbec79 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/maan1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/maan2.gif b/1430-h/images/maan2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d580785 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/maan2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/maan3.gif b/1430-h/images/maan3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af72319 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/maan3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/maan4.gif b/1430-h/images/maan4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f4b9a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/maan4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/macb1.gif b/1430-h/images/macb1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41badd1 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/macb1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/macb2.gif b/1430-h/images/macb2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba61704 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/macb2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/macb3.gif b/1430-h/images/macb3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..107a73e --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/macb3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/macb4.gif b/1430-h/images/macb4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43d28f --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/macb4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/macb5.gif b/1430-h/images/macb5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61ffc0f --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/macb5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/measure1.gif b/1430-h/images/measure1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e74dec --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/measure1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/measure2.gif b/1430-h/images/measure2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..895a154 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/measure2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/measure3.gif b/1430-h/images/measure3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..df0428d --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/measure3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/othello1.gif b/1430-h/images/othello1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c228177 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/othello1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/othello2.gif b/1430-h/images/othello2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6077726 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/othello2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/othello3.gif b/1430-h/images/othello3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f47f28 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/othello3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/othello4.gif b/1430-h/images/othello4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a6d50c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/othello4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/othello5.gif b/1430-h/images/othello5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..489fe50 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/othello5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/perci1.gif b/1430-h/images/perci1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..da5faef --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/perci1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/perci2.gif b/1430-h/images/perci2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ccff62 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/perci2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj1.gif b/1430-h/images/rj1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a82eff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj2.gif b/1430-h/images/rj2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3dc5781 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj3.gif b/1430-h/images/rj3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..211ba73 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj4.gif b/1430-h/images/rj4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ab502e --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj5.gif b/1430-h/images/rj5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d63dc84 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/rj6.gif b/1430-h/images/rj6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a9ca1a --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/rj6.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif b/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b13c9f --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif b/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..326698e --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif b/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29c5a5c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif b/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8901b34 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif b/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2648e5a --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif b/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ce382 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif b/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4617427 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif b/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77c4cc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/timon1.gif b/1430-h/images/timon1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f4be68 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/timon1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/timon2.gif b/1430-h/images/timon2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61b0308 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/timon2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/timon3.gif b/1430-h/images/timon3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0f8a54 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/timon3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/timon4.gif b/1430-h/images/timon4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a74fc30 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/timon4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif b/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d273e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif b/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f92e03 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif b/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2d028f --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/venice1.gif b/1430-h/images/venice1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a435e75 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/venice1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/venice2.gif b/1430-h/images/venice2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d953df --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/venice2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/venice3.gif b/1430-h/images/venice3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9d8804 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/venice3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/venice4.gif b/1430-h/images/venice4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..accd6e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/venice4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/venice5.gif b/1430-h/images/venice5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cde18b --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/venice5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/verona1.gif b/1430-h/images/verona1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c26f6fd --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/verona1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/verona2.gif b/1430-h/images/verona2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ef4920 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/verona2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/verona3.gif b/1430-h/images/verona3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19be495 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/verona3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/verona4.gif b/1430-h/images/verona4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..022b2de --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/verona4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/well1.gif b/1430-h/images/well1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f07945 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/well1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/well2.gif b/1430-h/images/well2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29e58d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/well2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/well3.gif b/1430-h/images/well3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..824dd21 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/well3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/well4.gif b/1430-h/images/well4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1e2395 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/well4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/ws.gif b/1430-h/images/ws.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a9094c --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/ws.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..de87229 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..54a26de --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e00d238 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7634758 --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dac9eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif diff --git a/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif b/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a52878d --- /dev/null +++ b/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8cc442 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #1430 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1430) diff --git a/old/1430-0.txt b/old/1430-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1f74b9e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7033 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 *** + + + + +BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE + +By E. Nesbit + + + + + “It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has + been imitated by all succeeding writers; and it may be + doubted whether from all his successors more maxims of + theoretical knowledge, or more rules of practical prudence + can be collected than he alone has given to his country.”-- + Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + + + + +PREFACE + + + +The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the +purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + +Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere +science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the +whole body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, +generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little +stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and +proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the +English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage +which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though +often unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, +wrote of him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the +highroad of human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths +of feeling and sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, +sentimental thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant +adventuresses--no delicate entanglements of situation, in which +the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised under the +superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He flattered no bad +passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, trifled with no just +and generous principle. While causing us to laugh at folly, and shudder +at crime, he still preserves our love for our fellow-beings, and our +reverence for ourselves. + +Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with +all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of +that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and +clear waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland +solitudes, and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of +poetry,--and with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to +mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in +the midst of his most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of +sunshine on rocks and ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or +repulsive, and reminding us of the existence of purer and brighter +elements. + +These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of +Shakespeare, next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the +classics of English literature. “So extensively have the characters of +Shakespeare been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” + says an American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the +great body of English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of +these dramas is often a cause of embarrassment.” + +But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in +words that little folks cannot understand. + +Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained +in the plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can +understand and enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of +these Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare. + +And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any +unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared +and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. +To which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified +in alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the +world's greatest dramatist. + +E. T. R. + + + + +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. + + + +In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, +a market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, +1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. +The entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + +The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three +days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this +fact. + +The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always +spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is +spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist +it reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is +printed “Shakespeare.” + +Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in +which the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, +and in the council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is +introduced one hundred and sixty-six times during the period that +the dramatist's father was a member of the municipal body, there are +fourteen different spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among +them. + +Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have +been unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of +ten were content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not +specially to his discredit. + +The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation +of Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a +woolstapler, and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have +been all of these simultaneously or at different times, or that if +he could not properly be called any one of them, the nature of his +occupation was such as to make it easy to understand how the various +traditions sprang up. He was a landed proprietor and cultivator of his +own land even before his marriage, and he received with his wife, who +was Mary Arden, daughter of a country gentleman, the estate of Asbies, +56 acres in extent. William was the third child. The two older than he +were daughters, and both probably died in infancy. After him was born +three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve years at least, after +Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in easy circumstances. In +the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief magistrate of Stratford, +and for many years afterwards he held the position of alderman as he +had done for three years before. To the completion of his tenth year, +therefore, it is natural to suppose that William Shakespeare would get +the best education that Stratford could afford. The free school of the +town was open to all boys and like all the grammar-schools of that time, +was under the direction of men who, as graduates of the universities, +were qualified to diffuse that sound scholarship which was once the +boast of England. There is no record of Shakespeare's having been at +this school, but there can be no rational doubt that he was educated +there. His father could not have procured for him a better education +anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's works without being +influenced by the old traditional theory that he had received a very +narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must have been +solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught in the +grammar schools. + +There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not +be without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. +Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic +towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the +grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of +singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut +out from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great +highway, and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its +markets. The eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for +observation. But nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his +birth to his marriage to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date +nothing but the birth of three children until we find him an actor in +London about 1589. + +How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have +no means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very +soon after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which +he is known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter +older plays not up to the standard that was required at the time was +a common practice even among the best dramatists of the day, and +Shakespeare's abilities would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted +for this kind of work. When the alterations in plays originally composed +by other writers became very extensive, the work of adaptation would +become in reality a work of creation. And this is exactly what we have +examples of in a few of Shakespeare's early works, which are known to +have been founded on older plays. + +It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's +greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the +finest minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers +to an elucidation of their worth. + +Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had +died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived +him till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven +years. His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, +in 1607, married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of +this marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first +Thomas Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by +either marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of +February, 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by +whom she had three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There +are thus no direct descendants of Shakespeare. + +Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him +in other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, +but their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the +man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He +was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on +the second day after his death, on the north side of the chancel +of Stratford church. Over his grave there is a flat stone with this +inscription, said to have been written by himself: + + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare + To digg the dust encloased heare: + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, + And curst be he yt moves my bones. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . 7 + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + THE TEMPEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + AS YOU LIKE IT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + THE WINTER'S TALE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + KING LEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 + TWELFTH NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + PERICLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 + HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 + CYMBELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + TIMON OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + MEASURE FOR MEASURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 + TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES . . . . . . . . 286 + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES . . . . . . . 20 + THE QUARREL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 + HELENA IN THE WOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL . . . . . . . . . 30 + TITANIA AWAKES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 + PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . 36 + PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . 39 + PLAYING CHESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 + ROSALIND AND CELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN . . . . . . . . 47 + GANYMEDE FAINTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 + LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 + LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . 60 + FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING . . . . . . . . . 62 + HERMOINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 + CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE . . . . . . . . 67 + GONERIL AND REGAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 + CORDELIA IN PRISON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 + VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA . . . . . . . . 76 + “YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE” . . . . . . . . . . 78 + CLAUDIA AND HERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + HERO AND URSULA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + BENEDICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 + FRIAR FRANCIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 + MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . 111 + THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD . . . . . . . . . 115 + ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 + PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT . . . . . . . . 122 + PERICLES AND MARINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 + THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS . . . . . . . . . . . 131 + POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . 135 + DROWNING OF OPHELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 + IACHIMO AND IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 + IMOGEN STUPEFIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 + IMOGEN AND LEONATUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 + THE THREE WITCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + FROM “MACBETH” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 + LADY MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + KING AND QUEEN MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 + MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . . . . 175 + THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . 178 + AEMILIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 + THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 + ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 + JESSICA LEAVING HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 + BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING . . . . . . . . . 192 + POET READING TO TIMON . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE . . . . . . . 197 + “NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX” . . . . . . . . . . 200 + TIMON GROWS SULLEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 + OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES . . . 211 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 + THE DRINK OF WINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 + CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF . . . . . . . . 222 + DESDEMONA WEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 + THE MUSIC MASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 + KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS . . . . . . 232 + PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER . . . . 235 + THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS . . . . . . . . 244 + ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO . . . . . . . . . 247 + “YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE” . . . . . . . 253 + VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA . . . . . 258 + SILVIA READING THE LETTER . . . . . . . . . . 259 + THE SERENADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 + ONE OF THE OUTLAWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 + HELENA AND BERTRAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + HELENA AND THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 + READING BERTRAM'S LETTER . . . . . . . . . . . 281 + HELENA AND THE WIDOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 + + + + +LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES + + PAGE + WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + FERDINAND AND MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . . . . . . . 54 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + CHOOSING THE CASKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + + + + + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + +Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to marry +another man, named Demetrius. + +Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any +girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put +to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as +he wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to +ask that she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke +gave her four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if +she still refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + +Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to +do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place +beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and +marry her. But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she +was going to do. + +Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart long before his marriage with +Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous +people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia's fault that +Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. She knew +that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she was, to the +wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow him, and +at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to him, and +betrayed her friend's secret. + +Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two +had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if +one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were +the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies +are very wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as +mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the +days were long, had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They +never met without saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded +each other so dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for +fear, would creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + +So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in +the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered +through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in +another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom +Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to +follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give +him up. + +On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the +fairies met. + +“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + +“What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with +your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with +him now.” + +“It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + +“Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant +and suitor.” + +“Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys +not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + +And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + +“Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you +leave this wood.” + +Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of +mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and +get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer +sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at +them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to +sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going +to drink. + +“Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called +Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the +eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the +first thing they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on +my Titania's eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she +sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a +busy ape.” + +While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor +Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all +his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love +her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor +Helena, and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow +Demetrius and put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love +Helena when he woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So +Puck set off, and wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but +Lysander, on whose eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw +not his own Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking +for the cruel Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left +his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. + +When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the wood +trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what he had done, +and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and set about looking +for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the juice on his eyes. +And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also Helena. So now +Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the wood, and it +was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done before. The +end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and +Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme +to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + +“These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night +with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the +other. When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this +other herb on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his +old love. Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will +all think that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when +this is done, all will be well with them.” + +So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep +without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, +and said:-- + + “When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill.” + +Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild thyme, +oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There +Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin +of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, +saying:-- + + “What thou seest when thou wake, + Do it for thy true love take.” + +Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was a +stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood +to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped +an ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. +Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What +angel is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + +“If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for +me,” said the foolish clown. + +“Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the +love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful +and delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. +“Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + +So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, +and Mustardseed. + +“You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with +apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. +Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of +painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + +“I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + +“Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke +your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and +kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + +“Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not +care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having +fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + +“Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + +“Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle +yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + +“Ready,” said Mustardseed. + +“Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. +I must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the +face.” + +“Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + +“I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's +head made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + +“Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + +“I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. +“But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to +sleep.” + +Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + +And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing +kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey's head. + +And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to +give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took +pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her +pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed +clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + +Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish +his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + +Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved +each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and +Helena had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + +As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could +meet in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + +So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the +fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this +very day. + + + + +THE TEMPEST + + + +Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who lived +among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his brother +Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was +ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, +to gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the +people bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, +Alonso, King of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom +with all its honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, +and when they were far away from land, forced him into a little boat +with no tackle, mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his +little daughter, Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with +him, and sailed away, leaving them to their fate. + +But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful +master, Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but +much could be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy +lord, whose name was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh +water, provisions, and clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, +some of his precious books. + +The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed +in safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under +the spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks +of trees all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before +Prospero was cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was +the chief, still remained in their prisons. + +Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost +entirely to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed +his brother to manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the +imprisoned spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were +more truly his subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he +treated them kindly as long as they did his bidding, and he exercised +his power over them wisely and well. One creature alone he found it +necessary to treat with harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the +wicked old witch, a hideous, deformed monster, horrible to look on, and +vicious and brutal in all his habits. + +When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it +chanced that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and +Ferdinand, his son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their +ship came near Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, +raised by his art a great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave +themselves up for lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped +into the sea, and, as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But +Ariel brought him safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although +they were washed overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of +the island, and the good ship herself, which they all thought had been +wrecked, lay at anchor in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such +wonders could Prospero and his spirits perform. + +While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero showed his daughter the brave +ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and told her that it was filled +with living human beings like themselves. She, in pity of their lives, +prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. Then her father bade +her to have no fear, for he intended to save every one of them. + +Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, +and that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, +Antonio and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his +hands. + +When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for +Ariel was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed +for his complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being +threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when +Sycorax ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the +master who had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and +promised faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + +“Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + +Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search +of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near +him, singing the while-- + + “Come unto these yellow sands + And then take hands: + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + (The wild waves whist), + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + +And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a +solemn air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his +eyes, for thus they ran-- + + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made. + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + +And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of +Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. +For Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen +any human being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with +reverence in her eyes, and love in her secret heart. + +“I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I +ever saw so noble!” + +And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + +“Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + +Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for +scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to +make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly +delighted, pretended wrath. + +“You come here as a spy,” he said to Ferdinand. “I will manacle your +neck and feet together, and you shall feed on fresh water mussels, +withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to drink. Follow.” + +“No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero +charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and +Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he +harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There +he set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of +timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his +toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + +She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would +not let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and +she, hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + +Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he +gave his consent to their marriage. + +“Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + +In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island +were plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand +being dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on +Alonso's death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose +while their victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + +Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and +just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder +and lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet +disappeared. Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + +Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his +cell, where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly +repenting them of their sins. + +Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound +I'll drown my book.” + +So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in +his proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he +forgave them and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly +committed him and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. +Alonso, who seemed sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented +the loss of his heir. But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them +Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet +his loved son again, and when he heard that the fair maid with whom +Ferdinand was playing was Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks +had plighted their troth, he said-- + +“Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart that +doth not wish you joy.” + +So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they +all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. +Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the +rejoicings at the wedding. + +Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own +dukedom, where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. +He practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not +only because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his +bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took +no vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + +As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander +where he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer, merrily: + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + + + + +AS YOU LIKE IT + + + +There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom that +should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His +brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold +forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + +The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, remained with Celia, Frederick's +daughter, and the two loved each other more than most sisters. One day +there was a wrestling match at Court, and Rosalind and Celia went to see +it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was there, who had killed many men +in contests of this kind. Orlando, the young man he was to wrestle with, +was so slender and youthful, that Rosalind and Celia thought he would +surely be killed, as others had been; so they spoke to him, and asked +him not to attempt so dangerous an adventure; but the only effect of +their words was to make him wish more to come off well in the encounter, +so as to win praise from such sweet ladies. + +Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance +by his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until +he saw Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now +the sight of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that +he did marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the +wrestler had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased +with his courage, and asked his name. + +“My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + +Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to +the banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando +was, and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that +this handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and +as they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another +kind word to the brave young man. + +“Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for +me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + +Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the +handsome wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first +sight. + +“Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + +“Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than +myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + +“With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + +“You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she +asked. + +“Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you are banished. If within ten +days you are found within twenty miles of my Court, you die.” + +So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest +of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was +rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as +a young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said +that she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very +tired when at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were +sitting on the grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede +asked him if he could get them food. He did so, and told them that +a shepherd's flocks and house were to be sold. They bought these and +settled down as shepherd and shepherdess in the forest. + +In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's +life, Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the +rightful Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando +could think of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest +carving her name on trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on +the bushes, and there Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met +them, but he did not know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked +the pretty shepherd youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her +he loved. + +“There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and +hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him +of his folly.” + +Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If +you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I +will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, +till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + +And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to +her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had +the fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the +right ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + +One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep +on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for +the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on +anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and +saw that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his +life. He fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's +life. + +While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, +whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk +of his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged +Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The +lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to +see the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + +Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena +was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she +fell in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger +Orlando had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said +truly enough, “I should have been a woman by right.” + +Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love +Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and +live here as a shepherd.” + +“Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke +and his friends.” + +When Orlando told Ganymede how his brother was to be married on the +morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness +through another man's eyes.” + +Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his +voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother +marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + +Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, +and Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + +Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter +Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the +Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + +“And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. +“That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + +Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's +clothes again, and after a while came back. + +She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + +Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + +“I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to +Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + +So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they +lived happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For +Frederick had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, +and so gave back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a +monastery to pray for forgiveness. + +The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A +shepherd and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she +was herself disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and +all with such pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere +within four walls, but only in the beautiful green wood. + + + + +THE WINTER'S TALE + + + +Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, +King of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated +when they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over +his kingdom. After many years, when each was married and had a son, +Polixenes came to stay with Leontes in Sicily. + +Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into +his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than +she did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, +nothing could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to +put a poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this +wicked action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. +He then told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from +the Court of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo +lived on as Polixenes' friend and counselor. + +Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the +throne, died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly +treated. + +While the Queen was in prison she had a little baby, and a friend of +hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in its best, and took it to +show the King, thinking that the sight of his helpless little daughter +would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, who had never done him +any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than he deserved; but the +King would not look at the baby, and ordered Paulina's husband to take +it away in a ship, and leave it in the most desert and dreadful place +he could find, which Paulina's husband, very much against his will, was +obliged to do. + +Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring +Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except +Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, +Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But +he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that +they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + +“Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, +Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if +that which is lost be not found.” + +Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The +poor Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how +wicked and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were +with the Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina +came back in a few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + +Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his folly. His Queen was dead, +and the little daughter who might have been a comfort to him he had sent +away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life had nothing left for him +now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed many sad years in +prayer and remorse. + +The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom +where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell +Leontes where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the +ship, he met a bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + +But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was +richly dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to +her cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble +parents. + +The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to +his wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more +teaching than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from +her royal mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different +from the other maidens in the village where she lived. + +One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was +bunting near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a +charming woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that +he was the Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he +was a private gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty +Perdita, he came almost daily to see her. + +The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every +day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that +the heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty +shepherd girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, +disguised himself, and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise +too, to the old shepherd's house. They arrived at the feast of +sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, they were made very welcome. +There was dancing going on, and a peddler was selling ribbons and laces +and gloves, which the young men bought for their sweethearts. + +Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, +but sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners +and great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of +his old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + +“This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green +sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than +herself--too noble for this place.” + +And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + +But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the +strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King +made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw +Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and +with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed +with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + +Camillo had long known how sorry Leontes was for that foolish madness of +his, and he longed to go back to Sicily to see his old master. He now +proposed that the young people should go there and claim the protection +of Leontes. So they went, and the shepherd went with them, taking +Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and the paper he had found pinned to +her cloak. + +Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince +Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was +like the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + +“Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly +sent her from me.” + +When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who +had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the +child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told +his tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that +Perdita was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and +rewarded the good shepherd. + +Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with +Perdita, but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, +he was only too glad to give his consent. + +Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, +who should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's +happiness, was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for +a long time but-- + +“Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of +Bohemia, and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, +and then thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + +Then Paulina, who had been high all these years in the King's favor, +because of her kindness to the dead Queen Hermione, said--“I have a +statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a piece many years in +doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, Giulio Romano. I keep +it in a private house apart, and there, ever since you lost your Queen, +I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please your Majesty to go and +see the statue?” + +So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and +their attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple +curtain screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the +curtain, said-- + +“She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead +likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand +of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it +is--behold, and say, 'tis well.” + +And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The +King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said +nothing. + +“I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. +But speak, is it not like her?” + +“It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was +not so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + +“Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + +“Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her +to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + +And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + +“If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have +stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + +But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + +“No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it +moves.” + +“Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + +“I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives +presently.” + +“Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, “make me to think so twenty years +together.” + +“If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make +it come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by +wicked magic.” + +“Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + +And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from +its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's +neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was +no statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived +hidden, by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover +herself to her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she +could not quite forgive him till she knew what had become of her little +baby. + +Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it +was like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + +Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + +To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment +when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love +around him once again. + + + + +KING LEAR + + + +King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his +kingdom, and wished only to end his days quietly near his three +daughters. Two of his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany +and Cornwall; and the Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both +suitors for the hand of Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + +Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed +to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like +to know how much you love me.” + +Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father +at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him +dearer than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, +beauty, and honor. + +“I love you as much as my sister and more,” professed Regan, “since I +care for nothing but my father's love.” + +Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his +youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he +said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you +say?” + +“Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + +“Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + +And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no +more, no less.” + +And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her +sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of +duty to their old father. + +“I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved +me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, +love you, and most honor you.” + +Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished her to make more extravagant +professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” he said, “be for ever a +stranger to my heart and me.” + +The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried +to say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided +the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only +keep a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by +turns. + +When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the +kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was +wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, +and our fair France.” + +“Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of +hers again.” + +So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having +ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now +went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her +father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred +knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful +to him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended +that they did not hear them. + +Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would +go into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of +a servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two +friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his +Fool, who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his +knights only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she +begged him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + +“My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I +will not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + +And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the +castle of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in +professions of attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in +undutiful conduct, saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on +him, and Goneril (who had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any +kindness to the old King) said five were too many, since her servants +could wait on him. + +Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, +he left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the +heath half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. +But presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last +persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the +Earl of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court +of France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + +Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. +Here she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a +crown of nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed +him, and Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + +“You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and +foolish.” + +And now he knew at last which of his children it was that had loved him +best, and who was worthy of his love. + +Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were +successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then +Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not +known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and +when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she +was, she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly +poison to her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + +But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and +though the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The +old King came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying +the body of his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + +And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with +her still in his arms, and died. + + + + +TWELFTH NIGHT + + + +Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful +Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained +his suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the +Duke, bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not +let the very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk +veiled; and all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she +would keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance. + +The Duke longed for someone to whom he could tell his sorrow, and repeat +over and over again the story of his love. And chance brought him such a +companion. For about this time a goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian +coast, and among those who reached land in safety were the captain and +a fair young maid, named Viola. But she was little grateful for being +rescued from the perils of the sea, since she feared that her twin +brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to her as the heart in her +bosom, and so like her that, but for the difference in their manner of +dress, one could hardly be told from the other. The captain, for her +comfort, told her that he had seen her brother bind himself “to a strong +mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus there was hope that he +might be saved. + +Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young +Duke Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, +she decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment +with him as a page. + +In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the +story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, +but soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that +his hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad +to woo Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when +she came to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious +man, sick, as his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger +admittance. + +Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, +and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her +instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, +“We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + +When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent +away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger +from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the +supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some +love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + +“He left this ring behind him,” she said, taking one from her finger. +“Tell him I will none of it.” + +Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly +well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness +that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart +for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + +It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease +the pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario +stood by his side. + +“Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + +“A little,” answered Viola. + +“What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + +“Of your complexion,” she answered. + +“What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + +To this came the pretty answer, “About your years, my lord.” + +“Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder +than herself.” + +And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + +By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead +his love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + +“If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + +“Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + +“But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My +father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, +“perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + +“And what is her history?” he asked. + +“A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let +concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she +pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like +Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + +“But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, +who had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty +fashion, said-- + +“I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall +I go to the lady?” + +“To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the +story, “and give her this jewel.” + +So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, +and openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her +hastily, saying-- + +“Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + +But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel +for other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, +sent a messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no +heart to refuse the request. + +But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the +jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who +at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. +This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew +to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel +between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced +Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The +poor page, in great terror, said-- + +“I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + +“Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me +first.” + +And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to +await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in +a great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her +sword, and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for +them both, at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, +and stopped the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she +might, while Sir Toby called after her-- + +“A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + +Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all +the dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he +determined to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he +passed Olivia's house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and +whom should he meet but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking +Sebastian for the cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and +walking up to him struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + +“Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting +back a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to +the rescue of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir +Toby's clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but +that Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and +with many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning +to Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with +many a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + +Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, +readily consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, +they were married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or +Sebastian was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + +Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her +himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her +door, and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for +leaving her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and +wholesome to her as howling after music. + +“Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + +“Still so constant,” she answered. + +Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on +her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said +to the page. + +And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a +thousand deaths would die.” + +A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, +husband, stay!” + +“Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + +“No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + +“Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + +And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared +Cesario to be the bridegroom. + +“O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, +but go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + +At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that +Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + +“I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on +me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + +Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their +thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + +“I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. +Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + +“One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, +looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + +“An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin +than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + +“I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind +waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, +“I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, +drowned Viola!'” + +Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she +was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is +akin to love. + +“Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never +shouldst love woman like to me.” + +“And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those +swearings keep true.” + +“Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, +and my fancy's queen.” + +Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian +a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving +wife. + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + +In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious +storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + +It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had +gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence +they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of +war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his +stepbrother Don John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + +Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. +Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in +love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + +One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in +a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated +through the open window. + +“Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” Claudio, asked, and Borachio +settled himself for comfortable listening. + +“Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her +color or height, and you spoil her.” + +“In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + +“Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She +is like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you +set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + +Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and +severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She +was wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not +therefore be dull. + +Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said +good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + +“I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to +tell.” + +“I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, +falling in with his humor. + +“I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his +Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love +with Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + +Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When +Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love +for Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a +masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio +loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his +consent to your union.” + +Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a +Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to +plead for you. + +Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he +had an enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's +stepbrother Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro +preferred him to Don John. + +It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation +which he had overheard. + +“I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when +Borachio ceased speaking. + +On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was +Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + +They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, +“Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + +“I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your +influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is +beneath him in rank.” + +“How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + +“I heard him swear his affection,” was the reply, and Borachio chimed in +with, “So did I too.” + +Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince +had betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust +to an agent.” + +Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk +exchange of opinions. + +“Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + +“Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + +“A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I +would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the +Garden of Eden.” + +But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor +Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and +brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing +before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you +like to go to church?” + +“To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry +Hero.” + +“Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart +thumped with joy. + +“And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor +Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + +“I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + +Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband +for Beatrice.” + +Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio +a lesson for nothing. + +Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he +was confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was +a fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this +plan of hate. + +Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. +“If,” he said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to +overhear us, that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, +see his good qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we +don't know he is listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful +Beatrice should be in love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he +will certainly be on his knees before her in a week or less.” + +So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat +down outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something +about a letter she wrote.” + +“Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night +and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words +'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + +“Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + +Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was +vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. +“I must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of +course; but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + +At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my +will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + +“Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + +“I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the +rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + +But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of +her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + +Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took +no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one +day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are +talking about her in the orchard.” + +Having said this, she felt as sure that Beatrice would overhear what was +meant for her ears as if she had made an appointment with her cousin. + +In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and +Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + +“But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, +“that Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + +“So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me +to tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + +“Why did you say that?” + +“Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and +scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making +game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away +like a covered fire.” + +“I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too +clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in +Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + +The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, +stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, +be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + +We now return to the plan of hate. + +The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered +a room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio +if he intended to be married to-morrow. + +“You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + +“He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will +show him if he will follow me.” + +They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of +Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + +Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it +to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; +she was Margaret. + +Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the +garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + +The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the +street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, +and told what he had done. + +A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a +thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore +arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in +prison. + +Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at +church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her +wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining +eyes. + +The priest was Friar Francis. + +Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this +lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + +Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, +Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + +Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be +married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + +“If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to +utter it,” said the Friar. + +“Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + +“Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, +'None,'” said Leonato. + +Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” + he continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied +Leonato, “as God gave her to me.” + +“And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this +gift?” “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the +giver.” + +“Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her +back.” + +These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don +Pedro and Don John. + +The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as +she could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except +her father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, +“Hence from her! Let her die!” + +But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the +soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + +Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew +not what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead +with shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, +and slander turns to remorse.” + +“The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a +retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + +Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do +believe your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + +“Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the +world as well as you?” + +“It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said +Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + +“Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + +“Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” + said Beatrice. “Farewell.” + +“Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + +During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were +examined by a constable called Dogberry. + +The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he +had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + +Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now +thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved +father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a +friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to +death, and I challenge you to combat.” + +“I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + +“You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + +Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were +feeling scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + +“The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + +“You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with +what weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + +Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I +can't carve a calf's head.” + +Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, +the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for +justice. + +The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + +“What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + +Borachio thought the moment a happy one for making a clean breast of it. +He laid the whole blame on Don John, who had disappeared. “The lady Hero +being dead,” he said, “I desire nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + +Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + +Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear +your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + +“Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may +impose.” + +“I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's +innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for +you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero +that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings +die.” + +“Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room +and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his +attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he +had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + +He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made +ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in +Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment. + +He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several +masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick +were present. + +Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + +“Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + +“Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + +“Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I +swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + +“Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + +“Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + +“Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + +The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick +interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is +Beatrice?” + +Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + +“Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + +“Moderately,” answered Benedick. + +“I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + +“Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + +“Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing +a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And +here,” said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the +pocket of Beatrice.” + +“A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! +Come, I will marry you, Beatrice.” + +“You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + +Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he +had married Claudio and Hero. + +“How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + +“Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you +will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but +as you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + +“My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; +but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + +And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was +able to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not +sweet against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu +and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, +in most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were +extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, +and instead of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of +pet of their quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu +wouldn't speak to a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet +to a Montagu--or if they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant +things, which often ended in a fight. And their relations and +servants were just as foolish, so that street fights and duels and +uncomfortablenesses of that kind were always growing out of the +Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + +Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper +and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to +it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named +Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he +loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and +he had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love +somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love +the wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends +Mercutio and Benvolio. + +Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young +Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their +velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars, and +the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones of price +set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, and though he +wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone could see by his +mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he was twelve +times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + +Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable +that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline +whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as +she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world +seemed vain and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying +this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing +his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at +once to his uncle, and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the +feast; but old Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to +any man under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young +man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + +In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in +sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent +for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his +heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. +So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + +Then Juliet said to her nurse: + +“Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + +“His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + +Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the +beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was +hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go +right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to +be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how +she loved Romeo. + +And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked +up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming +creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he +felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some +magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + +“Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what +does it matter what you are called?” + +“Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be +Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade +of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + +She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, +and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below +and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one +trying to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant +talk that lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music +their voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you +children may read it for yourselves some day. + +And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other +and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though +they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + +“I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + +And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + +Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. +Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + +The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, +and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet +without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + +So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he +purposed to do, the old woman took back a message that all was well, +and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next +morning. + +The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their +marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old quarrel +between the Capulets and the Montagues. + +And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, +because he thought that when they were once married their parents +might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old +quarrel. + +So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar +Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to +come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder +to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to +his dear wife quietly and alone. + +But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + +Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the +Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in +the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no +wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and +he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this +friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had +killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + +So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's +cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young +husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the +flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they +parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know +when they should meet again. + +Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, +wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she +refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. +He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + +“I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two +days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and +not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, +and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. +Will you do this, or are you afraid?” + +“I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home +and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and +told her father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a +different story. + +Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about +inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone +stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little +time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because +he saw she was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her +husband Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of +her cousin Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else +to think about. + +Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her +for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out +suddenly-- + +“Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was +born!” + +Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the +bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their +weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a +marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a +letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been +well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + +But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of the +marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her funeral, and +hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife was dead and lying in +the grave. + +“Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side +to-night.” + +And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He +hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a +vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps +that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a +voice behind him calling on him to stop. + +It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + +“How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you +vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + +Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + +“You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must +die.” + +“I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle +youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better +than myself--go--leave me here--” + +Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon,” and Romeo, +in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, and Paris was +killed. + +As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + +“Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with +Juliet!” + +And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + +And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear +Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held +her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, +while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her +awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and +wife. + +Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had +happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband +and her friend both dead beside her. + +The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and +Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She +saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and +since no poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust +it through her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's +breast, she died. And here ends the story of these faithful and most +unhappy lovers. + + * * * * * * * + +And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had +befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief +their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the +bodies of their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship +and forgiveness. + + + + +PERICLES + + + +Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an enemy of +Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great was the +danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty counselor, +Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a time. He +came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his father, +he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing Helicanus +Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving his +kingdom was soon made clear. + +Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from +Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The +faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked +lord, and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the +danger which threatened him. + +The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, +feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But +a dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel +was wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised +and wet and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of +Pentapolis, the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, +he looked for nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, +coming down to the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade +him be of good cheer. + +“Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have +flesh for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and +flapjacks, and thou shalt be welcome.” + +They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going +to the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his +daughter, the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + +“Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make +one there.” + +As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it +dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it +in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, +he blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, +which had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen +to let him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the +tournament, promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would +reward them well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully +equipped, Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + +In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the +wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. +Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he +came; and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, +but he did not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he +knew that if once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life +would not be worth a pin's purchase. + +Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with +his courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter +to have her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger +knight or die. + +Thus Pericles became the husband of the fair lady for whose sake he +had striven with the knights who came in all their bravery to joust and +tourney for her love. + +Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, +hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant +throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become +their King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. +Moreover, he sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing +Pericles. + +Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King +there, told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, +and that, Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from +returning to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law +who he really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly +rejoiced to know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his +own right. So Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. +But once more the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke +out, and while it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that +a little daughter was born to him. This news would have made his heart +glad indeed, but that the servant went on to add that his wife--his +dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + +While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, +the sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown +overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long +as a dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest +with spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote +these lines: + + “Here I give to understand + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + I, King Pericles, have lost + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a King; + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!” + +Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by and +by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of a +lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he +saw how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took +immediate steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, +who had been thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling +sure that she would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the +world, and became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + +While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his +little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at +sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, +the King sailed for his own dominions. + +Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and +wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more +accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to +take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of +her servants to take her away and kill her. This villain would have done +so, but that he was interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried +Marina off to sea with them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold +her as a slave. Yet such was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, +that she soon became honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, +fell deep in love with her, and would have married her, but that he +thought she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in +his high position. + +The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was +really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it +to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see +his much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was +terrible to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed +never to wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion +erected on deck, and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke +word to none. + +At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and +Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel +came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he +bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King +from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade +the King to speak, promising whatever reward she would, if she +succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and +sang to her poor grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he +made no sign. So presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might +equal his, for, though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that +stood equal to mighty kings. + +Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked +up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his +lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her +tell her story. + +Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she was +and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles knew that +this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again and again, crying +that his great seas of joy drowned him with their sweetness. “Give me my +robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + +Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of +heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a +vision. + +“Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden +priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + +Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly +had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you +are--O royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently +recovering, she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” + “The voice of dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa +am I,” she said, and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very +truth. + +Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found +happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the +pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only +in being restored to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and +became a princess in the land where she had been sold as a slave. + + + + +HAMLET + + + +Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father and +mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named Ophelia. +Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + +While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young +Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung +the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so +tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, +before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined +to marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + +Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + +“It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my +loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least +remembers him, and grieves still.” + +Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of +course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + +“Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those +I love.” + +With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their +wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them +both. + +And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he +ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. +It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the +King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, +and could not accuse Claudius. + +And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, +from Wittenberg. + +“What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend +kindly. + +“I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + +“I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My +father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + +“My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + +Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with two +gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the battlements. +Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, the ghost of the +King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, appeared on the battlements +in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave youth. Instead of running +away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it beckoned him he followed +it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him that what he had +suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good +brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his +orchard in the afternoon. + +“And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked +brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and +she is your mother. Remember me.” + +Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + +“Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I +will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your +commands alone live on my brain.” + +So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of +the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled +dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered +father. + +The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost +mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, +he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended +madness in other matters. + +And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, +and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that +she could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not +believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she +told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the +letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love.” + +And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's supposed +madness was love. + +Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and +yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his +father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the +ghost spoke truly. + +Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them +to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play +was the story of a man who had been murdered in his garden by a near +relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife. + +You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his +throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, +acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And +when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the +sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the +room--the Queen and others following. + +Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + +“Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this +murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + +Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him +for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, +wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself +behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen +got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and +Polonius behind the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the +King who was hidden there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and +killed, not the King, but poor old Polonius. + +So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap +killed his true love's father. + +“Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this,” cried the Queen. + +And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and +marry his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts +and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more +friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good +King. And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, +but the Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + +When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, +he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed +the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our +plan, and send him away to England.” + +So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, +and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet +should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these +letters, and put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers +who were so ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, +Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left +him to his fate, and went on to meet theirs. + +Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. +Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits +too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, +and flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking +poor, foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one +day, coming to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery +garland on a willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and +so died. + +And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had made +him hide it; and when he came back, he found the King and Queen, and the +Court, weeping at the funeral of his dear love and lady. + +Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice +for the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he +leaped into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + +“I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt +into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + +Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + +“I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to +love her more than I.” + +But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes +how Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to +slay Hamlet by treachery. + +Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were +present. Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes +had prepared for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the +wicked King had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant +to give poor Hamlet when he should grow warm with the sword play, and +should call for drink. + +So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave +Hamlet a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for +they had been fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with +Laertes in a struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked +them up again, Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt +sword for Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he +pierced Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + +At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear +Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + +She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and +the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall +dead by his means. + +Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and +the two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found +courage to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, +if he had braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives +had been spared, and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well +deserved to die. + +Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, +turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + +“Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + +So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all +being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him +die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him +with their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of +Denmark. + + + + +CYMBELINE + + + +Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two sons +were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and he +was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second +time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's +playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married +him. This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish +Leonatus, banished him from Britain. + +Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was +not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, +but they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little +children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised +never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone +else as long as they lived. + +“This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, +and keep it as long as you love me.” + +“Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my +sake.” + +“Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + +And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and +Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + +When he was come to Rome, where he had gone to stay with an old friend +of his father's, he spent his days still in thinking of his dear Imogen, +and his nights in dreaming of her. One day at a feast some Italian and +French noblemen were talking of their sweethearts, and swearing that +they were the most faithful and honorable and beautiful ladies in the +world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how he had said many times that +his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and constant than any of the ladies +in France. + +“I say so still,” said Leonatus. + +“She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of +the Italian nobles. + +“She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + +“I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your +wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + +“That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my +finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that +my wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade +her to do otherwise.” + +So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's +finger, and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction +to Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all +kindness; but he was still determined to win his wager. + +He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to +tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently +perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave +her. Then he said-- + +“Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you +this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to +be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + +“I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + +“Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of +a trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some +other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + +“I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend +of my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care +of them.” + +“It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again +to-morrow.” + +So the trunk was carried into Imogen's room, and that night she went to +bed and to sleep. When she was fast asleep, the lid of the trunk opened +and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The story about the jewels was as +untrue as the rest of the things he had said. He had only wished to get +into her room to win his wicked wager. He looked about him and noticed +the furniture, and then crept to the side of the bed where Imogen +was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet which had been the +parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the trunk, and next +morning sailed for Rome. + +When he met Leonatus, he said-- + +“I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no +longer thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her +room, which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and +silver andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + +“I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed +talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the +servants.” + +“Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from +her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet +enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + +“Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have +won my life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has +forgotten me.” + +And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, +Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder +her, because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same +time he wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old +servant, to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to +meet her. + +Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its +orders, and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the +letter from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before +he left, the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be +useful in sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that +Imogen would die, and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the +Queen thought this drink was a poison, but really and truly it was only +a sleeping-draft. + +When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was +really in the letter he had had from her husband. + +“I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + +And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her +on her way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the +drink he had had from the Queen. + +Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. +Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went +in, and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw +there, and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the +cave. She was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought +that they would be angry with her for taking their food, though she +had meant to leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they +welcomed her kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her +face was good, as well as pretty. + +“You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with +them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one +day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with +the two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine +Pisanio had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead +creature, so that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, +they thought she was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they +carried her away and laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + +They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale +primroses, and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and +went away sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not +knowing how she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through +the wood. + +Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to +attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, +who had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come +back, not to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons +against Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the +Roman General, and took service with him as his page. + +When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and +his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as +a British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline +prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued +the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners +brought before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, +who had put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life +since he had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, +as a Roman soldier, he would be put to death. + +When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + +“A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so +be it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let +him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, +true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save +him, Sir.” + +Then Cymbeline looked on the page, who was his own daughter, Imogen, in +disguise, and though he did not recognize her, he felt such a kindness +that he not only spared the boy's life, but he said-- + +“He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a +prisoner, the noblest taken.” + +Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from +whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + +“Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + +Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was +unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he +came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's +lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed +dead. + +“Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + +Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my +lord--here, here!” + +Leonatus turned to strike the forward page who thus interfered in his +great trouble, and then he saw that it was his wife, Imogen, and they +fell into each other's arms. + +The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to +the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he +gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, +and the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + +“I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had +only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole +your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two +boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a +boy like themselves. + +The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with +his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + +So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever +after. So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the +world's end. + + + + +MACBETH + + + +When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two +stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of +Scotland by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly +and well, on the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part +of Scottish history. The other story issues from a place called +Imagination; it is gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + +A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a +battle was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals +named Macbeth and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together +towards Forres, in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was +awaiting them. + +While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, +sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + +“Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + +Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou +shalt be the father of kings.” + +“Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of +Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his +children live. Speak, I charge you!” + +The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the +air. + +Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, +and were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of +them thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and +the other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + +Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title +was to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch +called me, 'King that is to be.'” + +“Banquo,” he said, “you see that the witches spoke truth concerning me. +Do you not believe, therefore, that your child and grandchild will be +kings?” + +Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he +deemed it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. +He told Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them +both into villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, +however, thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to +keep to himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + +Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died +in defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by +whose order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder +of bitter wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she +read his letter, she was determined that he should be King. + +When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in +Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + +She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend +a sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are +blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, +with his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared +his guest. + +“Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have +thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + +“I dare do all that may become a man,” replied Macbeth; “who dare do +more is none.” + +“Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with +bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she +showed him how to do it. + +After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at +his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were +stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King +herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + +Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon +with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a +voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + +“Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the +grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + +“I dare not,” said Macbeth. + +His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a +heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + +The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking +which could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain +of Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to +him, and showed him the door of the King's room. + +Macduff entered, and came out again crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + +Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he +could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms +with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + +These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. +One of Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was +King. But he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed +his mind. If Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. +Macbeth determined, therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He +hired two ruffians, who slew Banquo one night when he was on his way +with Fleance to a banquet which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. +Fleance escaped. + +Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, +and he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of +times since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on +both.” + +“We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but +ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall +and sat in Macbeth's place. + +Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, +he could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry +of Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + +The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's +ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + +But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a +form of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have +done this?” + +Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou +canst not say I did it.” + +The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass +of wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend +Banquo, whom we miss.” + +The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + +“Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the +earth, thou horrible shadow.” + +Again none saw the ghost but he. + +“What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + +The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She +hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow +worse if he was obliged to talk. + +Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches +whose prophecies had so depraved him. + +He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round +a cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible +creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + +“Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + +“Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first +witch. + +“Call them,” replied Macbeth. + +Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the +flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so +that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + +He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He +knows thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware +Macduff, the chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the +cauldron till it disappeared. + +“One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + +“He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned +child ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child +said-- + + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + +“That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's +descendants would ever rule Scotland. + +The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of +phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In +each king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + +Then he was suddenly left alone. + +His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They +did not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave +a stinging answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou +liest!” shouted Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and +with his last breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not +leave the castle while one of its inmates remained alive. + +Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of +cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell +him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not +speak the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers +relieved by royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said +that England was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross +blurted out his news, and Macduff cried, “All dead, did you say? All my +pretty ones and their mother? Did you say all?” + +His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into +Macbeth's castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force +more solemn than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was +mad. She walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash +her hands for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, +would still see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to +hear her cry that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her +little hand. + +“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the +doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own +mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the +dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + +One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and +said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered +Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of +air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + +Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. +Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he +had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + +From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed +appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held aloft a +bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like human trees +they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + +Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and +the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single +combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when +Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; +I have spilt too much of your blood already.” + +“My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade +him yield. + +“I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + +Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a +King's head by the hair. + +“Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + +So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the +descendants of Banquo were kings. + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + +AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His +wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, +and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the +Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had +been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were +exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the +same. + +And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where +these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born +to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were +the parents of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the +other twins. + +AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, +and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed +homewards. + +They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the +crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of +their passengers. + +AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the +slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining +children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and +hoped for safety. + +The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and +AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from +AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by +some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the +babies from her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very +miserable. Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia +Minor. + +AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than +AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were +eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he +called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the +children who floated away from him. + +At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a +desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and +the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio +of Syracuse. + +Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled +for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the news of +Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + +As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was +arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of +Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky +enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had +angrily passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand +pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought +before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a +thousand pounds before the end of the day. + +You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children +who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of +Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of +Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and +Dromio of Ephesus. + +Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of +Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in +order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of +Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till +he came. + +In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, +his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. +“Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked +Antipholus of Syracuse. + +This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on +the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that +his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he +asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without +delay. His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he +had not fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found +that his gold had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + +He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him +with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and +Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and +she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio +of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, +you may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was +really her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet +unless I said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + +“Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not +know you.” + +“Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent +Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; +I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine +with me and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + +They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of +disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where +a very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + +They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio +demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by +heart. + +From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was +Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + +Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and +finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his +wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to +another woman. + +Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be +her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone +with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he +was not married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a +mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her +floating golden hair. + +Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to +Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be +seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + +Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo +the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which +he had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + +The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated +his “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took +the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He +offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + +The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor of the +sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest unless he paid +his debt immediately. This creditor had brought a police officer with +him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of +the house where he had been dining because he had been locked out of The +Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay when Antipholus denied receipt of +the chain. Angelo could have sent his mother to prison if she had said +that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus in charge. + +At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus +that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. +To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He +would gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly +telling him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband +a purse of money which she would find in his desk. + +Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had +been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from +getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master +immediately. + +Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his +real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what +he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further +surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he +had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of +Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. +“Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she +received. + +Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was +to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger +when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch +a purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the +slave in the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; +and his temper did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived +under the impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He +raged so much that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of +Adriana spared him this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of +him, and asked the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + +Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again, +and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the odd +behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” said the merchant at last, +“that's he, I think.” + +It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, +and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly +pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the +chain he had the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his +temper, and drew his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several +others appeared. “Hold!” shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is +mad. Take his sword away. Bind him--and Dromio too.” + +Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, +“Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + +They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + +Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, +and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + +“To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + +Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was +mad. + +Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, +for the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that +if her husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the +present. + +Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and +behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two +others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had +not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + +Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a +woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing +his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + +The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the +order than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that +his master had singed off the doctor's beard. + +“Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + +“As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + +Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his +brother of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, +“Justice, most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to +Adriana. “She has treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + +Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, “Unless I am delirious, I see my +son Antipholus.” + +No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the +doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang +who tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he +had escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + +The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was +seen to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked +Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw +my father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to +the brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to +acknowledge me in misery.” + +Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and +Dromio of Syracuse. + +Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and +Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + +It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by +paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I +am thy wife AEmilia.” + +The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + +So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband +reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in +the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. +Will you be my wife?” + +Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + +The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + + + + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + +Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were +on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with +England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very +generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of +his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + +Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless +and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his +fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio +for further help. + +“To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I +have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + +“Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + +Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all +quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because +she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked +on me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should +win her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to +Belmont, where she lives.” + +“All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready +money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for +you what you need.” + +There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named +Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated +him with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a +cur, over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted +to all these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he +cherished a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio +both hurt his pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought +Shylock, “I should be richer by half a million ducats. On the market +place, and wherever he can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, +and--worse than that--he lends out money freely.” + +So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats +to Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to +Antonio, said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with +you and have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no +interest. But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be +agreed that if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall +have the right to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of +your body I choose.” + +“No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + +“Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the +time. I will sign the bond.” + +Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to +woo the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's +pretty daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her +lover, and she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of +ducats and precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to +see. His love for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my +feet and the jewels in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in +hearing of the serious losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose +ships were wrecked. “Let him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him +look to his bond.” + +Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. +He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and +beauty had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them +Portia had but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would +pledge himself to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were +conditions that frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would +win Portia's heart and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held +her portrait. If he guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if +wrong, then he was bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, +never to marry, and to go away at once. + +The caskets were of gold, silver, and lead. The gold one bore this +inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;” + the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he +deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who chooseth me +must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as brave as he +was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He chose the +gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could contain her +picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the likeness of +what many men desire--death. + +After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have +what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and +found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” + he cried. + +Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from +making his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved +him dearly, even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at +once, for, as I am, I live upon the rack.” + +Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant +lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the +caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he +said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and +so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; +joy be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait +inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + +“Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house is yours, and with them +I give you this ring, from which you must never part.” + +And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to +swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + +Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers +came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock +demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was +entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as +Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + +“First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then +go to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money +enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + +But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and +arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from +a celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in +to decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of +Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the +money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's +only answer was-- + + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + +It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her own +husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great +Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. +Then in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her +entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + +“What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + +“But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + +“The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the +money-lender. + +“Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A sentence: come, prepare.” + +“Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only +to his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property +will be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + +And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + +“No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take +your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even +by the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + +Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats +that I lent him, and let him go.” + +Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have +nothing but his bond.” + +“You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to take the life of a +Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your life and goods are +forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + +Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to +Shylock had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender +forfeited half his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other +half on his daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + +Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part +with the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised +never to part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to +Portia, she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with +him until she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was +she who, in the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and +got the ring from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier +than ever, to know how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the +caskets. + + + + +TIMON OF ATHENS + + + +Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens +whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but +no worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If +anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. +If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was +offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he +would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in +front of Timon to receive double its market price. + +Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. +When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly +wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, +“There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those +singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a +night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of +his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees +them not!” + +Of course, Timon was much praised. + +A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect +till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon +gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, +“O, he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” + said another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; +and other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + +But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to +knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + +“You will die for that,” said Timon. + +“Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know +what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + +This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, +because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number +of acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not +shun them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, +and is inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + +Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, +after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + +Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and +the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise +man has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and +he did not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and +furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected +him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + +Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day +Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said +to his steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a +hundred, thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of +the world if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + +“Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius +because he had once got Ventidius out of prison by paying a creditor of +this young man. Ventidius was now rich. Timon trusted in his gratitude. +But not for all; so much did he owe! Servants were despatched with +requests for loans of money to several friends: + +One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus +said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last +night.” Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, +perfect gentleman, your master, eh?” + +“Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + +“And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, +jovially. + +“Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I +beg you to fill with money, sir.” + +“La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! +ha!” “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. +I've warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you +know this is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you +act like a good boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three +solidares for yourself.” + +“Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + +Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was +Sempronius. + +“Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is +beholden to him.” + +“He refused.” + +“Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + +“He refused.” + +“A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in +affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent +him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + +“Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + +When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of +a lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a +banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in +the least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and +said to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + +“I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said +Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + +“It was a real grief to me to be without ready money when he asked for +some,” said Sempronius. + +“The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + +Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies +and compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + +In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. +Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + +“Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the +gods of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are +our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men +love the joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain +twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. +Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!” + +The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. +They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, +they uncovered the dishes. + +There was nothing in them but warm water. + +“May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the +flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your +villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, +and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, +he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + +His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + +Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a +handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, +having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. +The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not +soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern +the fact that good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He +determined to see nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of +Ventidius and the meanness of Lucullus. + +He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the +earth for food. + +One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck +gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, +and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold +vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, +“will make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. +It will buy murder and bless the accursed.” + +He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached +with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but +pleasure. + +Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades +did not recognize him at first. + +“Who are you?” he asked. + +“A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + +Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon +would none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when +they found he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his +opinion of them, but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you +more?” + +With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + +“Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and +then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could +have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + +Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug +up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + +Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said +Apemantus. “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can +imitate.” + +“You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said +Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as +they ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + +“If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should throw myself away.” + +“You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a +good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + +“Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told +him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a +pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + +Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he +was sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him +with an evil wish. + +This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had +departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + +“You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + +“We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + +“No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it +poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + +He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full +pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that +day of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried +he. + +“Away! What are you?” said Timon. + +“Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + +“I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you +are a man, I have forgotten you.” + +“I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + +“Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + +Flavius began to cry. + +“What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you +because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh +or beg.” + +They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you +rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. +I will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh +slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die +in jail before you pay his debt.” + +Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + +“If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his +back on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to +obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + +The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty +nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon +therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom +he had patronized in his prosperity. + +“Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how +your friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + +“We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + +“You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + +“There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I +did not come for that.” + +“Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of +gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + +“Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” + answered Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, +“Put that into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a +whack to the poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for +it. There's gold for you.” + +They hurriedly withdrew. + +Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was +threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter +noble whose gold might help the foe. + +“Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you +dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + +“Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, +and more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + +“Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; +you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a +fool.” + +But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could +save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” + they said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy +her.” + +“Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and +seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + +The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown +before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, +who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They +looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield +if he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper +than arrows. + +“These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged +you, Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + +“Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your +revenge needs human flesh.” + +“Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + +“I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will +inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + +At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble +general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, +“He is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone +with letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed +them on wax.” + +Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + all living men did hate. + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + and stay not here your gait.” + +“Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens +with an olive branch instead of a sword. + +So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter +than Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a +warning lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + + + + +OTHELLO + + + +Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, who +hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead of +Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, +whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago +had a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he +could not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + +Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called +him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been +vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great +traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. +Brave as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a +terrible selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as +absolutely as he possessed something that did not live and think. The +story of Othello is a story of jealousy. + +One night Iago told Roderigo that Othello had carried off Desdemona +without the knowledge of her father, Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo +to arouse Brabantio, and when that senator appeared Iago told him +of Desdemona's elopement in the most unpleasant way. Though he was +Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and a Barbary horse. + +Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to +fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used +was his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth +escapes. Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained +how she could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I +saw Othello's visage in his mind.” + +As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there +was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to +go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to +go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him +at Cyprus. + +Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, +my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and +Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with +my own happiness.” + +News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he +proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + +Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago +decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, +as Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought +wine into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and +so Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + +When Cassio was inclined to be quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say +something unpleasant to him. Cassio cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the +presence of Montano, the ex-governor. Montano civilly interceded for +Roderigo, but received so rude an answer from Cassio that he said, +“Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded him, and Iago sent +Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + +The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I +love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + +On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about +his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. +“O God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an +enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + +Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio +was pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to +Desdemona in the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and +said, “Be merry, Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your +cause.” + +Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired +hurriedly. + +Iago said, “I don't like that.” + +“What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something +unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio +who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was +Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who +stole away in that guilty manner.” + +Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio +retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part +when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. +Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona +told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + +Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that +Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + +“Yes,” said Othello. + +“Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now +very clear. + +“Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective +inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + +“What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + +To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. +He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who +steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name +ruins me.” + +At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident +of his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no +other than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth +mock the meat it feeds on.” + +Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the +remark that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. +“If she deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + +Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. +She saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his +forehead. Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello +had given her. A prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this +handkerchief from the silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a +liquid prepared from the hearts of maidens, and embroidered it with +strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of it simply as a cool, soft +thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell upon it that would work +destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it round your head,” she +said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But Othello pettishly +said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he then went +indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which Iago had +often asked her to steal. + +She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he +snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + +In the garden he was joined by Othello, who seemed hungry for the worst +lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello that he had seen Cassio +wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because it was spotted with +strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had given his wife. + +The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness +that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I +accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that +Cassio is dead.” + +Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. +Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry +pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to +copy it for him. + +Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona +about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation +between Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's +sweetheart, and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was +Desdemona. + +“How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + +“The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + +“Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, +adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the +matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + +“Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like +the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's +fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he +prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not +the dog I shall throw it to.” + +Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea +that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the +embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the +handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + +Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech +inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise +his wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the +needle, her voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her +wit, her sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised +her Iago said something that made him remember his anger and utter it +foully, and yet he must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, +Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!” + +There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there +had been he might have wavered then. + +“Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + +The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a +relative of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter +for Othello from the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from +Cyprus, and gave the governorship to Cassio. + +Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit +of Cassio. + +“Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + +“It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, +and he told her what it contained. + +“I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that +Othello's unkindness had wrung out of her. + +“I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + +“Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her +face. + +Now was the time for Desdemona to have saved her life by separation, but +she knew not her peril--only that her love was wounded to the core. “I +have not deserved this,” she said, and the tears rolled slowly down her +face. + +Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not +be believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in +his nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and +roared, “Out of my sight!” + +“I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in +going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and +his guests. + +Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, +to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the +company. + +Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family +quarrels, and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico +asked Iago for an explanation. + +True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse +than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from +the discomfort of answering any more questions. + +He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune +with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona +without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + +Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's +house, Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, +and Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo +as his assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient +friend, called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + +At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she +must leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. +“It was his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + +She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to +her--a song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though +it weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + +She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed +to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask +God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not +kill thy soul,” he said. + +He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to +confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything +that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + +Then Desdemona wept, but with violent words, in spite of all her +pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and mortally hurt her. + +Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, +and Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A +guiltless death I die.” + +“Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. +Farewell!” + +“'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + +He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came +running in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, +Emilia told the truth. + +And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he +exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + +But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a +relief from torture. + +They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he +escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the +Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. +Say I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and +say that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I +took him by the throat and smote him thus.” + +With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his +lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + +There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair +daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, +and unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her +sister, Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more +than one suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the +elder daughter must marry first. + +So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to +marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to +their suit for Bianca. + +A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought +of, and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the +disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just +the sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he +himself would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + +Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his +gentle daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she +was anything but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, +complaining that the naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, +because he told her she was not playing correctly. + +“Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to +have some chat with her.” + +When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, Kate--for that, I hear, is +your name.” + +“You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + +“Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and +sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every +town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + +“Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable +things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + +“If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still +protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + +When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + +“How speed you with my daughter?” + +“How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + +“How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + +“I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you are acting a father's +part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + +“Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. +You should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will +go off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! +we will be married on Sunday.” + +With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent +temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in +love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was +not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her +rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she +did indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + +To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the +wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was +ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby +way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + +And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, +Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or +drink--saying that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with +her. + +And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in +so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. +He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by +rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the +way. + +She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was +determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had +made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never +forget. + +So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served +he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and +ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but +the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless +to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how +anxious he was that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, +throwing the pillows and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not +go to bed at all, and still kept growling and scolding at the servants +so that Kate might see how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + +The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught +away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for +want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + +“I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + +“What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + +Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's +secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would +she like tripe? + +“Bring it me,” said Katharine. + +“I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the +servant. “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + +“I love it,” said Kate. + +“But mustard is too hot.” + +“Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was +getting hungrier and hungrier. + +“No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef +from me.” + +“Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or +anything thou wilt.” + +“Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + +Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + +Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun +to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new +clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine +was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made +for her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and +gown on the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish +things. + +“I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All gentlewomen wear such caps as +these--” + +“When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not +till then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but +privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + +“Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the +sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest +habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by +dinner-time.” + +“It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to +see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and +her sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get +there.” + +“It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, +whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't +go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + +At last they started for her father's house. + +“Look at the moon,” said he. + +“It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + +“I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or +whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + +Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, +for from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and +never again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + +So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found +all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly +married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat +down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing +Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many +disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and +froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with +such spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the +new bride. + +After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh +against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear +you have got the veriest shrew of all.” + +“You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us +shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the +one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree +on.” + +The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the +most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + +They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + +“Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or +hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + +“A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + +“Content,” cried the others. + +Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to +him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the +servant coming back, said-- + +“Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + +“There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + +“You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a +worse.” + +“I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + +“Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + +“Oh--if you entreat her,” said Petruchio. + +“I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will +not be entreated.” + +But now the servant came in, and said-- + +“She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + +“Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I +command her to come to me.” + +They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and +that she would not come. + +Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + +“Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + +“What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + +“Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + +“Talking by the parlor fire.” + +“Fetch them here.” + +When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + +“Here is a wonder!” + +“I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + +“It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + +“Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add +another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another +daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + +So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife +and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her +well, and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they +lived happy ever afterwards. + + + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + +More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were +governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was +excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + +The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna +was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief +secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, +that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He +knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause +people to call him a tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council +that he must go to Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen +Angelo to rule in my absence,” said he. + +Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean +man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have +nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana +lived forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, +and loving him still. + +Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called +Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of +giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to +stay at home and see how Angelo governed. + +Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young +man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would +only be punished by severe reproof. + +Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of +freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead +with Angelo. + +Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, +and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + +Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + +An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but +not kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + +Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy +than is in the law.” + +Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine +the next morning. + +After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the +condemned man desired to see him. + +“Admit her,” said Angelo. + +On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor +to your Honor.” + +“Well?” said Angelo. + +She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased +the beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she +continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + +“Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A +fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault +went free.” + +She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You +are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + +So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon +him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis +too late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with +reasons, and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + +She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him that +humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it was good to +have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant. She told him +that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. She bade him look +for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to refrain from making +it an argument against her brother's life. + +Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's +beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for +the love of man. + +He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + +She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a +few hours.' + +In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his +judicial duty. + +When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother +cannot live.” + +Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. +Heaven keep your Honor.” + +But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight +in comparison with the loss of her. + +“Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + +“Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay +upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the +just man he pretended to be. + +So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. +At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. +But when he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by +marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and +he exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + +“O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + +At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to +request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + +The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose +love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let +Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, +in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would +marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it +might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + +Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly +like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They +were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + +In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like a +friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, friar?” “I have none,” said +the Duke. + +Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one +about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and +called the Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love +him. “The Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the +Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he +thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a +friar, replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to +see another merry to being merry himself.” + +The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + +Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the +two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They +went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and +while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the +window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which +betrayed Mariana's indifference to her country dwelling. Some women +would have beautified their garden: not she. She was for the town; she +neglected the joys of the country. He was sure that Angelo would not +make her unhappier. + +“We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + +So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, +and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone +which flashed in the light with secret colors. + +Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared +to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, +however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His +amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever +you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the +clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + +But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another +head,” and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the +hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows +it not. Give Angelo another head.” + +The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's +signet and I know his hand.” + +He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the +age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + +The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its +resemblance to Claudio's. + +The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city +gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and +Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their +conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence. + +It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, +passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried +for justice. + +When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a +slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + +“Friar Lodowick,” said she. + +“Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + +“I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against +your Grace.” + +A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + +Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took +off her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was +worth looking on.” + +Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand +which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + +“I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage +between us, but I found her frivolous.” + +Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. +Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar +Lodowick. + +“He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the +missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + +Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and +accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as +abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, +that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled +for his impudence. + +“To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, +the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + +“Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve +you, work it for all it's worth.” + +“Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + +“Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + +“I was,” said Angelo. + +“Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to +Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + +“Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is +now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but +well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + +“O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + +“You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + +At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said +the Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid +his head!” + +“O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + +“You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + +“O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no better man.” + +Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned +inflexibility. + +“Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio was executed at an +unusual hour?” + +Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, +“I had a private message.” + +“You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then +departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer +death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost +re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I +saved this man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to +Isabella, “I pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my +brother, too, if you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + +She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the +Provost. + +Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + +Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. +Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived +at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name +because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a +Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because +it was that of a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him +to be a lover at one time and a traitor at another. + +One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm +not in love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at +home.” + +Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, +who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry +to part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, +and I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant +called Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's +daughter, Silvia. + +When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she +loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in +the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, +for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be +annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone +than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her +heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So +by tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved +him. Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, +and you shall marry me.” + +Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's +letter and talking to himself. + +“What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + +“A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + +“Let me read it,” said Antonio. + +“There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is +very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I +were with him.” + +This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go +to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go +to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my +outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent +after you.” + +It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two +days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and +he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till +death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + +Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him +under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that +she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well +of, but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike +writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. +“Take it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + +“Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + +“Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not write tenderly enough.” + +Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; +but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed +Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The +joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He +meant that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: +“If master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + +On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and +afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love +for Julia was prospering. + +“Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + +“Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink +all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + +“You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + +“She is divine,” said Valentine. + +“Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + +“Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all +women on earth.” + +“Except Julia,” said Proteus. + +“Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant +that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + +“Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + +But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired +Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without +delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself +am dearer than my friend.” + +It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by +the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the +evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did +not change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to +him the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. +“In the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope +ladder, with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + +Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. +The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom +she did not care a straw. + +Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make +Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring +Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, +“Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, +but your Grace should know that he intends to-night to elope with your +Grace's daughter.” He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver +of this information, and the Duke assured him that his name would not be +divulged. + +Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing +a large cloak with a bulging pocket. + +“You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir +Thurio?” + +“I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man +so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + +“Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, +proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I +intend, therefore, to marry again.” + +Valentine bowed. + +“I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the +Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to +win the lady of my choice.” + +“Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + +“I have tried them,” said the Duke. + +“The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some +more.” + +“The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised +to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in +fact, locked up.” + +“Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a +rope ladder.” + +“But how should I carry it?” asked the Duke. + +“A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + +“Like yours?” + +“Yes, your Grace.” + +“Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + +Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend +his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the +pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and +read these words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + +“Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but +not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are +in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + +Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the +day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + +Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of +the first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; +“walk hence with that.” + +After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest +near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, +the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They +obeyed, and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that +they offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + +“I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are +not violent to women or the poor.” + +The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + +We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since +Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which +she could see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and +she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta +would bear the blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia +therefore said that she intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + +“You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at +this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + +“I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + +Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia +had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her +toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to +see. + +Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to +hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + +“They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + +Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It +was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her + That she might admired be.” + +Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow thundered +into her mind-- + + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + She excels each mortal thing.” + +Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so +beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only +false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She +even went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + +One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, +“Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the +picture of her she promised me.” + +Silvia had promised the picture, but she disliked Proteus. She was +obliged to talk to him because he was high in the favor of her father, +who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir Thurio. Silvia had +learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a sweetheart in +Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that he was +disloyal in friendship as well as love. + +Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the +woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + +“She thanks you,” said Julia. + +“You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of +herself that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + +Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it +the worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made +up her mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + +Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + +The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled +Valentine, and he was not wrong. + +Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some +servants. + +The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia +(in her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had +been taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. +Proteus rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give +me one kind look.” + +“O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a +lion's breakfast.” + +Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia +that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + +“O heaven!” cried Silvia. + +At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came +crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia +feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But +he struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust +you more.” + +Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive +me! I grieve! I suffer!” + +“Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If +Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that +I will stand aside and bless you both.” + +These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived +her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + +“I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the +Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + +“Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + +She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia +before he left Verona. + +Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + +“I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + +“But I love you again,” said he. + +Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + +“Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + +Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + +“Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + +“I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + +“Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. +Your banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve +her.” + +“I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask +you one more boon.” + +“I grant it,” said the Duke. + +“Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better +than their calling.” + +“I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be +for wages.” + +“What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating +Julia. + +The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + +“More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment +which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and +friendship was the recital in his presence of the adventures of +Julia-Sebastian of Verona. + + + + +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + +In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of Rousillon +was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her husband, +and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, hundreds +of miles away. + +Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, +and eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make +him, and would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. +But a pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + +Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service +of the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her +father's prescriptions. + +When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the +Countess, who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her +own child. Tears then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the +Countess made Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. +The Countess guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that +Bertram was to her as the sun is to the day. + +She hoped, however, to win this sun by earning the gratitude of the King +of France, who suffered from a lingering illness, which made him lame. +The great doctors attached to the Court despaired of curing him, but +Helena had confidence in a prescription which her father had used with +success. + +Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was +allowed to see the King. + +He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would +not become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief +which all the learned doctors cannot give me.” + +“Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared +that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + +“And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + +“Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I +choose!” + +So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering +king. Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the +royal cripple could skip. + +He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the +throne room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been +dazzled, and seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome +young noblemen before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found +Bertram. Then she went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, +but I am yours!” Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, +“This is the Man!” + +“Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + +“My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to +choose a wife.” + +“Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the +monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + +“Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who +owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + +“You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said +the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and +he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not +distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a +bowl.” + +“I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge +him not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's +sake.” + +“My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. +“Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you +are so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + +Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your +interest in her. I submit.” + +“Take her by the band,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + +Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was married to Helena. + +Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped +to sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that +now he had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay +at home. “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made +Bertram feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the +war in Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + +Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, +giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding +her a cold good-bye. + +She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get +the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' +I write 'never.'” + +Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said +farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from +his own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in +trouble, and help you.” + +She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made +him wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and +handed her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I +have run away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always +far away from her.” + +“Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name +out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + +The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay +the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted +fellow.” + +Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, +and, leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for +Florence. + +On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' +House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with +her. + +Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter +named Diana. + +When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman +of yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But +after a time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of +Helena's husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the +fact that he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife +was not worth caring for. + +The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her +that she was the Countess Rousillon. + +“He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + +Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the +same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of +gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will +help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her +hair to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his +finger. It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, +yet he will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your +daughter insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark +room, and agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + +The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She +said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + +Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off +a lock of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to +Bertram that he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her +into the dark room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, +and felt a sweet face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he +left the room satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on +his finger was a ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + +The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught +Bertram that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his +“kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such +a boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French +officers played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost +his drum, and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in +the attempt. His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the +story of a heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + +“Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + +“What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been +blindfolded. + +“He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as +interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + +“As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me +like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there +were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with +spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + +Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told +Diana that he was a fool. + +“This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + +“He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + +Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and +was not addicted to boasting. + +We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her +death, which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, +a lord who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + +The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed +for Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it +accomplished. + +“His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + +Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said +that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he +would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + +“Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget +sweet Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + +Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's +Helena's!” + +“It's not!” said Bertram. + +Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring +I gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So +you had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + +Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother +said it was. + +“You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they +were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana +had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, +craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition +signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to +marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + +“I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than take Bertram now,” said +Lafeu. + +“Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + +Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied +that Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was +spent in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it +was to whom he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now +missing from his finger? + +Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning +generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + +“Do I see reality?” asked the King. + +“O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + +She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will +you love me, Bertram?” + +“To the end of my life,” cried he. + +“My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in +them. + +The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy +young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had +wished to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to +himself. His pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a +husband of some sort after all. + + + + +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES. + + + + [Key.-- + + a,e,i,o,u -- as in hat, bet, it, hot, hut; + â,ê,î,ô,û -- as in ate, mote, mite, mote, mute; + å -- as in America, freeman, coward; + ë -- as in her, fern; + ü -- as in burn, furl. ] + + Adriana (ad-ri-â'-nå) + AEgeon (ê'-ge-on) + AEmilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Alcibiades (al-si-bî'-å-dêz) + Aliena (â-li-ê'-nå) + Angelo (an'-je-lô) + Antioch (an'-ti-ok) + Antiochus (an-tî'-o-kus) + Antipholus (an-tif'-o-lus) + Antonio (an-tô'-ni-ô) + Apemantus (ap-e-man'-tus) + Apollo (å-pol'-ô) + Ariel (â'ri-el) + Arragon (ar'-å-gon) + + Banquo (ban'-kwô) + Baptista (bap-tis'-tå) + Bassanio (bas-sa'-ni-ô) + Beatrice (bê'å-tris) + Bellario (bel-lâ'-ri-ô) + Bellarius (bel-lâ'-ri-us) + Benedick (ben'-e-dik) + Benvolio (ben-vô'-li-ô) + Bertram (bër'-tram) + Bianca (bê-an'-kå) + Borachio (bô-rach'-i-ô) + Brabantio (brå-ban'chô) + Burgundy (bür'-gun-di) + + Caliban (kal'-i-ban) + Camillo (kå-mil'-ô) + Capulet (kap'-û-let) + Cassio (kas'-i-ô) + Celia (sê'-li-å) + Centaur (sen'-tawr) + Cerimon (sê'-ri-mon) + Cesario (se-sâ'-ri-ô) + Claudio (klaw'-di-ô) + Claudius (klaw'-di-us) + Cordelia (kawr-dê'-li-å) + Cornwall (kawrn'-wawl) + Cymbeline (sim'-be-lên) + + Demetrius (de-mê'-tri-us) + Desdemona (des-de-mô-nå) + Diana (dî-an'-å) + Dionyza (dî-ô-nî'-zå) + Donalbain (don'-al-ban) + Doricles (dor'-i-klêz) + Dromio (drô'-mi-ô) + Duncan (dung'-kån) + + Emilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Ephesus (ef'e-sus) + Escalus (es'-kå-lus) + + Ferdinand (fër'-di-nand) + Flaminius (flå-min'-i-us) + Flavius (flâ'-vi-us) + Fleance (flê'-ans) + Florizel (flor'-i-zel) + + Ganymede (gan'-i-mêd) + Giulio (jû'-li-ô) + Goneril (gon'-e-ril) + Gonzalo (gon-zah'-lô) + + Helena (hel'-e-nå) + Helicanus (hel-i-kâ'nus) + Hercules (hër'kû-lêz) + Hermia (hër'mi-å) + Hermione (hër-mî'-o-nê) + Horatio (hô-râ'-shi-ô) + Hortensio (hor-ten'-si-ô) + + Iachimo (yak'-i-mô) + Iago (ê-ah-gô) + Illyria ((il-lir'-i-å) + Imogen (im'-o-jen) + + Jessica (jes'-i-kå) + Juliet (ju'li-et) + + Laertes (lâ-ër'-têz) + Lafeu (lah-fu') + Lear (lêr) + Leodovico (lê-ô-dô'-vi-kô) + Leonato (lê-ô-nâ'-tô) + Leontes (lê-on-têz) + Luciana (lû-shi-â'nå) + Lucio (lû'-shi-ô) + Lucius (lû'-shi-us) + Lucullus (lû-kul'-us) + Lysander (lî-san'-dër) + Lysimachus (lî-sim'-å-kus) + + Macbeth (mak-beth') + Magdalen (mag'-då-len) + Malcolm (mal'-kum) + Malvolio (mal-vô'li-ô) + Mantua (man-'tû-å) + Mariana (mah-ri-â'-na) + Menaphon (men'-å-fon) + Mercutio (mer-kû'-shi-ô) + Messina (mes-sê'-nah) + Milan (mil'-ån) + Miranda (mî-ran'-då) + Mitylene (mit-ê-lê'-nê) + Montagu (mon'-tå-gû) + Montano (mon-tah'-nô) + + Oberon (ob'-ër-on) + Olivia (ô-liv'-i-å) + Ophelia (ô-fêl'-i-å or o-fêl'-yå) + Orlando (awr-lan'-dô) + Orsino (awr-sê'-nô) + Othello (ô-thel'-ô) + + Parolles (pa-rol'-êz) + Paulina (paw-lî'-nå) + Pentapolis (pen-tap'-o-lis) + Perdita (për'-di-tå) + Pericles (per'-i-klêz) + Petruchio (pe-trû'-chi-ô) + Phoenix (fê'-niks) + Pisanio (pê-sah'-ni-ô) + Polixines (pô-liks'-e-nêz) + Polonius (pô-lô'-ni-us) + Portia (pôr'-shi-å) + Proteus (prô'-te-us or prô'-tûs) + + Regan (rê'-gån) + Roderigo (rô-der'-i-gô) + Romano (rô-mah'-nô) + Romeo (rô'-me-ô) + Rosalind (roz'-å-lind) + Rosaline (roz'-å-lin) + Rousillon (ru-sê-lyawng') + + Sebastian (se-bas'-ti-ån) + Sempronius (sem-prô'-ni-us) + Simonides (si-mon'-i-dêz) + Solinus (sô-lî'-nus) + Sycorax (sî'-ko-raks) + Syracuse (sir-å-kus) + + Thaisa (tha-is'-å) + Thaliard (thâ'-li-ård) + Thurio (thû'-ri-ô) + Timon (tî'-mon) + Titania (tî-tan'-i-å) + Tybalt (tib'-ålt) + + Ursula (ur'-sû-lå) + + Venetian (ve-nê'-shån) + Venice (ven'-is) + Ventidius (ven-tid'-i-us) + Verona (vâ-rô'-nå) + Vicentio (vê-sen'-shi-ô) + + + + + +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + +ACTION. + + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than their ears. + + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + + + + +ADVERSITY. + + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + + As You Like It -- II. 1. + + + That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm. + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couched. + + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + + + + + +ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + Hamlet -- I. 3. + + + + +AGE. + + My May of life Is + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + + Macbeth -- V. 3. + + + + +AMBITION. + + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I + hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but + a shadow's shadow. + + Hamlet -- II 2. + + + I charge thee fling away ambition; + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +ANGER. + + Anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + Self-mettle tires him. + + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + + + + +ARROGANCE. + + There are a sort of men, whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a willful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore are reputed wise + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +AUTHORITY. + + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + And the creature run from the cur? + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + a dog's obeyed in office. + + King Lear -- IV. 6. + + + Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + Merciful heaven! + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + Drest in a little brief authority -- + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + As make the angels weep. + + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + + + +BEAUTY. + + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + of it ever fair. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + + +BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + + It so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + The virtue, that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + + + + +BRAGGARTS. + + It will come to pass, + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + + + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + are they not monsters? + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +CALUMNY. + + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + thou shalt not escape calumny. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + + + + +CEREMONY. + + Ceremony + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + + + + +COMFORT. + + Men + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + To be so moral, when he shall endure + The like himself. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + + Idem -- II. + + + + +COMPARISON. + + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + Until a king be by; and then his state + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + Into the main of waters. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +CONSCIENCE. + + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENT. + + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTION. + + How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + When two authorities are set up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + The one by the other. + + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + + + + +COWARDS. + + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + + +CUSTOM. + + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + A custom + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +DEATH. + + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + For that's the end of human misery. + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + + + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The dread of something after death, + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others we know not of. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. + + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + + + + +DECEPTION. + + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + + + + +DEEDS. + + Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + + Hamlet -- I. 2. + + + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + Makes deeds ill done! + + King John -- IV. 2. + + + + +DELAY. + + That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many, + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. + + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + + + + +DELUSION. + + For love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + + +DISCRETION. + + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. + + Macbeth -- III. 4. + + + + +DRUNKENNESS. + + Boundless intemperance. + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. + + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + + + + +DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + + 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 checked for silence, + But never taxed for speech. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +EQUIVOCATION. + + But yet + I do not like but yet, it does allay + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +EXCESS. + + A surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + + + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + and the ingredient is a devil. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +FALSEHOOD. + + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + Three things that women hold in hate. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + + + + +FEAR. + + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + + + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + + +FEASTS. + + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + + + + +FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + Than the sea-monster. + + King Lear -- I. 4. + + + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +FORETHOUGHT. + + Determine on some course, + More than a wild exposure to each cause + That starts i' the way before thee. + + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + + + + +FORTITUDE. + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + + + + +FORTUNE. + + When fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + + King John -- III. 4. + + + + +GREATNESS. + + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + through another man's eyes. + + As You Like It -- V. 2. + + + + +HONESTY. + + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + when a knave is not. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + + + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +HYPOCRISY. + + Devils soonest tempt, + resembling spirits of light. + + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + + + One may smile, and smile, + and be a villain. + + Hamlet -- I. 5. + + + + + +INNOCENCE. + + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + + + + +INSINUATIONS. + + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + That calumny doth use;-- + For calumny will sear + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + + + + +JEALOUSY. + + Trifles, light as air, + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + O beware of jealousy: + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + The meat it feeds on. + + Idem. + + + + +JESTS. + + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + of him that hears it. + + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + + + He jests at scars, + that never felt a wound. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + + +JUDGMENT. + + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + That no king can corrupt. + + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + + + + +LIFE. + + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Macbeth -- V. 5. + + + We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. + + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + + + + +LOVE. + + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + + + Sweet love, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The course of true-love + never did run smooth. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + + + Love looks not with the eyes, + but with the mind. + + Idem. + + + She never told her love,-- + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + + + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + + + + +MAN. + + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + how express and admirable! in action, how like + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +MERCY. + + The quality of mercy is not strained: + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown: + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + When mercy seasons justice. + Consider this,-- + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. + + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + + + + +MERIT. + + Who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + + + + +MODESTY. + + It is the witness still of excellency, + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + + + + +MORAL CONQUEST. + + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + That war against your own affections, + And the huge army of the world's desires. + + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + + + + +MURDER. + + The great King of kings + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + That thou shalt do no murder. + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +MUSIC. + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +NAMES. + + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + By any other name would smell as sweet. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + Good name, in man, and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he, that filches from me my good name, + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + + +NATURE. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves, when they be felt. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +OFFICE. + + 'Tis the curse of service; + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + Not by the old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. + + Othello -- I. 1. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY. + + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + Shall never find it more. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + + + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + + + + +OPPRESSION. + + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct them. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PAST AND FUTURE. + + O thoughts of men accurst! + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + + + + +PATIENCE. + + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +PEACE. + + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + + + I will use the olive with my sword: + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + + + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PENITENCE. + + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + + + + +PLAYERS. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts. + + As You Like It -- II. 7. + + + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + not to speak it profanely, that, + neither having the accent of Christians, + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + have so strutted, and bellowed, + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + had made men and not made them well, + they imitated humanity so abominably. + + Hamlet -- III. 2. + + + + +POMP. + + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + + + + +PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + the cripple. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + + + + +PRINCES AND TITLES. + + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honor for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imaginations, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, between their titles, and low name, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + + +QUARRELS. + + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + + + + +RAGE. + + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +REPENTANCE. + + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + + + + +REPUTATION. + + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +RETRIBUTION. + + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + + King Lear -- V. S. + + + If these men have defeated the law, + and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, + they have no wings to fly from God. + + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + + + + +SCARS. + + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + is a good livery of honor. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + + + To such as boasting show their scars, + A mock is due. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + + + + +SELF-CONQUEST. + + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + + King John -- III. 1. + + + + +SELF-EXERTION. + + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + The fault is not in our stars, + But in ourselves. + + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +SILENCE. + + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + + + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades, when speaking fails. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + + + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + + + + +SLANDER. + + Slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +SLEEP. + + The innocent sleep; + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + Macbeth -- II. 2. + + + + +SUICIDE. + + Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine, + That cravens my weak hand. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +TEMPERANCE. + + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility: + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. + + As You Like It -- II. 3. + + + + +THEORY AND PRACTICE. + + There was never yet philosopher, + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + + +TREACHERY. + + Though those, that are betrayed, + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +VALOR. + + The better part of valor is--discretion. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + + + When Valor preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + + + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + + + + +WAR. + + Take care + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + + + + +WELCOME. + + Welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WINE. + + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + to steal away their brains! + that we should with joy, revel, + pleasure, and applause, + transform ourselves into beasts! + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +WOMAN. + + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WORDS. + + Words without thoughts + never to heaven go. + + Hamlet -- III. 3. + + + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +WORLDLY CARE. + + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +WORLDLY HONORS. + + Not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 *** diff --git a/old/1430-h/1430-h.htm b/old/1430-h/1430-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..777bf8e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/1430-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9784 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { text-align:justify} + P { margin:15%; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 95%; } + img {border: 0;} + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; } + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + } /* page numbers */ + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 1%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; + margin: 1em 5%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 5%; margin-bottom: .75em; font-size: 80%;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 5%;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + PRE { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 20%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 ***</div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="wscolor" id="wscolor"></a> <img src="images/ws.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> WILLIAM + SHAKESPEARE <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </h1> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <i>“It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has been imitated + by all succeeding writers; and it may be doubted whether from all his + successors more maxims of theoretical knowledge, or more rules of + practical prudence can be collected than he alone has given to his + country.”</i>--Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="preface" id="preface"></a> + </p> + <h4> + <b>PREFACE</b> + </h4> + <p> + The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the + purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere + science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the whole + body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, + generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little + stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and + proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the + English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage + which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though often + unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, wrote of + him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the highroad of + human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths of feeling and + sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, sentimental + thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant adventuresses--no + delicate entanglements of situation, in which the grossest images are + presented to the mind disguised under the superficial attraction of style + and sentiment. He flattered no bad passion, disguised no vice in the garb + of virtue, trifled with no just and generous principle. While causing us + to laugh at folly, and shudder at crime, he still preserves our love for + our fellow-beings, and our reverence for ourselves. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with all + that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of that + indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and clear + waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland solitudes, + and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of poetry,--and + with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to mental emotion, + which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in the midst of his + most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks and + ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or repulsive, and reminding us + of the existence of purer and brighter elements. + </p> + <p> + These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of Shakespeare, + next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the classics of + English literature. “So extensively have the characters of Shakespeare + been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” says an + American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the great body of + English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of these dramas is + often a cause of embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in words + that little folks cannot understand. + </p> + <p> + Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained in the + plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can understand and + enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of these Beautiful + Stories from Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any + unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared + and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. To + which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified in + alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the world's + greatest dramatist. + </p> + <p> + E. T. R. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <b><a name="life" id="life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE.</a></b> + </p> + <p> + In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, a + market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, + 1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. The + entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + </p> + <p> + The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three + days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this fact. + </p> + <p> + The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always + spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is + spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist it + reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is printed + “Shakespeare.” + </p> + <p> + Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in which + the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, and in the + council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is introduced one + hundred and sixty-six times during the period that the dramatist's father + was a member of the municipal body, there are fourteen different + spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among them. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have been + unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of ten were + content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not specially to + his discredit. + </p> + <p> + The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation of + Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a woolstapler, + and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have been all of these + simultaneously or at different times, or that if he could not properly be + called any one of them, the nature of his occupation was such as to make + it easy to understand how the various traditions sprang up. He was a + landed proprietor and cultivator of his own land even before his marriage, + and he received with his wife, who was Mary Arden, daughter of a country + gentleman, the estate of Asbies, 56 acres in extent. William was the third + child. The two older than he were daughters, and both probably died in + infancy. After him was born three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve + years at least, after Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in + easy circumstances. In the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief + magistrate of Stratford, and for many years afterwards he held the + position of alderman as he had done for three years before. To the + completion of his tenth year, therefore, it is natural to suppose that + William Shakespeare would get the best education that Stratford could + afford. The free school of the town was open to all boys and like all the + grammar-schools of that time, was under the direction of men who, as + graduates of the universities, were qualified to diffuse that sound + scholarship which was once the boast of England. There is no record of + Shakespeare's having been at this school, but there can be no rational + doubt that he was educated there. His father could not have procured for + him a better education anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's + works without being influenced by the old traditional theory that he had + received a very narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must + have been solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught + in the grammar schools. + </p> + <p> + There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not be + without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. + Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic + towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the + grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of + singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut out + from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great highway, + and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its markets. The + eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for observation. But + nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his birth to his marriage + to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date nothing but the birth of + three children until we find him an actor in London about 1589. + </p> + <p> + How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have no + means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very soon + after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which he is + known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter older plays + not up to the standard that was required at the time was a common practice + even among the best dramatists of the day, and Shakespeare's abilities + would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted for this kind of work. + When the alterations in plays originally composed by other writers became + very extensive, the work of adaptation would become in reality a work of + creation. And this is exactly what we have examples of in a few of + Shakespeare's early works, which are known to have been founded on older + plays. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's + greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the finest + minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers to an + elucidation of their worth. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had + died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived him + till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven years. + His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, in 1607, + married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of this + marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first Thomas + Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by either + marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of February, + 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by whom she had + three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There are thus no + direct descendants of Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him in + other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, but + their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the man, and + do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed + honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on the second day + after his death, on the north side of the chancel of Stratford church. + Over his grave there is a flat stone with this inscription, said to have + been written by himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare<br /> + To digg the dust encloased heare:<br /> + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones,<br /> + And curst be he yt moves my bones. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#preface">PREFACE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#midsummer">A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tempest">THE TEMPEST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#like">AS YOU LIKE IT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#lear">KING LEAR</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#pericles">PERICLES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quotations">QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fairies">TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quarrel">THE QUARREL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wood">HELENA IN THE WOOD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#spell">TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#awakes">TITANIA AWAKES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sea">PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#miranda">PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chess">PLAYING CHESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#celia">ROSALIND AND CELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chain">ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#faints">GANYMEDE FAINTS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#coast">LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#look">THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perdita">LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#talking">FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hermione">HERMIONE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#france">CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#regan">GONERIL AND REGAN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prison">CORDELIA IN PRISON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#captain">VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#olivia">VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#love">"YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hero">CLAUDIA AND HERO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ursula">HERO AND URSULA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#benedick">BENEDICK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#francis">FRIAR FRANCIS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet">ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet2">MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dead">THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tomb">ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tournament">PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#marina">PERICLES AND MARINA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#appears">THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ophelia">DROWNING OF OPHELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogen">IACHIMO AND IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#trunk">IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#stupefied">IMOGEN STUPEFIED</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#leonatus">IMOGEN AND LEONATUS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#witches">THE THREE WITCHES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">FROM “MACBETH"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth2">LADY MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth3">KING AND QUEEN MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dromio">ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse">LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse2">THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#aemilia">AEMILIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#morocco">THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bond">ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#home">JESSICA LEAVING HOME</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ring">BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">POET READING TO TIMON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#picture">PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#box">"NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sullen">TIMON GROWS SULLEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#adventures">OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wine">THE DRINK OF WINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#handkerchief">CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#weeping">DESDEMONA WEEPING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#master">THE MUSIC MASTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ears">KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#supper">PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dress">THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#angelo">ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prince">"YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#silvia">VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#theletter">SILVIA READING THE LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#serenade">THE SERENADE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#outlaws">ONE OF THE OUTLAWS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bertram">HELENA AND BERTRAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#king">HELENA AND THE KING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#letter">READING BERTRAM'S LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#widow">HELENA AND THE WIDOW</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wscolor">WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#clowncolor">TITANIA AND THE CLOWN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#mirandacolor">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perditacolor">PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#julietcolor">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogencolor">IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#casketcolor">CHOOSING THE CASKET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#katherinecolor">PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE</a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="clowncolor" id="clowncolor"></a> <img + src="images/dream1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN <a name="midsummer" id="midsummer"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to + marry another man, named Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any + girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put + to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as he + wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to ask that + she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke gave her + four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if she still + refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + </p> + <p> + Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to do + seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place beyond + the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and marry her. + But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she was going to + do. + </p> + <p> + <a name="fairies" id="fairies"></a> <img src="images/dream2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart + long before his marriage with Hermia had been thought of, and being very + silly, like all jealous people, she could not see that it was not poor + Hermia's fault that Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, + Helena. She knew that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she + was, to the wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow + him, and at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to + him, and betrayed her friend's secret. + </p> + <p> + Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two + had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if one + only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were the + King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies are very + wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as mortal folk. + Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the days were long, + had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They never met without + saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded each other so + dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for fear, would creep + into acorn cups and hide them there. + </p> + <p> + So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in + the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered + through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in + another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom + Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to + follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give + him up. + </p> + <p> + On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the fairies + met. + </p> + <p> + “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with + your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with + him now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="quarrel" id="quarrel"></a> <img src="images/dream3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html." /> + </p> + <p> + “It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant + and suitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys + not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + </p> + <p> + And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you + leave this wood.” + </p> + <p> + Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of + mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and + get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer + sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at + them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to + sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going to + drink. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called + Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyes + of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the first thing + they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on my Titania's + eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she sees, were it + lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a busy ape.” + </p> + <p> + While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor + Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all + his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love + her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor Helena, + and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow Demetrius and + put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love Helena when he + woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So Puck set off, and + wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but Lysander, on whose + eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw not his own Hermia, + but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking for the cruel + Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left his own lady, + under the spell of the purple flower. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="wood" id="wood"></a> When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, + and wandered about the wood trying to find him. Puck went back and told + Oberon what he had done, and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, + and set about looking for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the + juice on his eyes. And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also + Helena. So now Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the + wood, and it was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done + before. The end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and + Demetrius and Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his + kind scheme to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + </p> + <p> + “These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night with + drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the other. + When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this other herb + on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his old love. + Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will all think + that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when this is done, + all will be well with them.” + </p> + <p> + So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep + without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, and + said:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “When thou wakest, + </p> + <p> + Thou takest + </p> + <p> + True delight + </p> + <p> + In the sight + </p> + <p> + Of thy former lady's eye: + </p> + <p> + Jack shall have Jill; + </p> + <p> + Nought shall go ill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild + thyme, oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There + Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin of + a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, saying:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “What thou seest when thou wake, + </p> + <p> + Do it for thy true love take.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was + a stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood + to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped an + ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. + Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What angel + is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for + me,” said the foolish clown. + </p> + <p> + “Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the + love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful and + delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. “Come + with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + </p> + <p> + So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, + and Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with apricots + and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal + honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of painted + butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke + your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and + kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not + care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having + fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + </p> + <p> + “Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + </p> + <p> + “Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle + yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="spell" id="spell"></a> “Ready,” said Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. I + must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the + face.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's head + made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. + “But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="awakes" id="awakes"></a> And so when Oberon came along he found + his beautiful Queen lavishing kisses and endearments on a clown with a + donkey's head. + </p> + <p> + And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to give + him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took pity on + her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her pretty eyes; + and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed clown she had been + loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + </p> + <p> + Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish his + sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + </p> + <p> + Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved each + other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and Helena + had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could meet + in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + </p> + <p> + So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the + fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this very + day. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="mirandacolor" id="mirandacolor"></a> <img + src="images/tempest1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Ferdinand and Miranda <br /><a + name="tempest" id="tempest"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + THE TEMPEST + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who + lived among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his + brother Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was + ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, to + gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the people + bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, Alonso, King + of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom with all its + honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, and when they + were far away from land, forced him into a little boat with no tackle, + mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his little daughter, + Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with him, and sailed + away, leaving them to their fate. + </p> + <p> + But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful master, + Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but much could + be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy lord, whose name + was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh water, provisions, and + clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, some of his precious books. + </p> + <p> + The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed in + safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under the + spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks of trees + all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before Prospero was + cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was the chief, still + remained in their prisons. + </p> + <p> + Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost entirely + to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed his brother to + manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the imprisoned + spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were more truly his + subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he treated them kindly as + long as they did his bidding, and he exercised his power over them wisely + and well. One creature alone he found it necessary to treat with + harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the wicked old witch, a hideous, + deformed monster, horrible to look on, and vicious and brutal in all his + habits. + </p> + <p> + When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it chanced + that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and Ferdinand, his + son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their ship came near + Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, raised by his art a + great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave themselves up for + lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped into the sea, and, + as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But Ariel brought him + safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although they were washed + overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of the island, and the + good ship herself, which they all thought had been wrecked, lay at anchor + in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such wonders could Prospero + and his spirits perform. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest2.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="sea" id="sea"></a> While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero + showed his daughter the brave ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and + told her that it was filled with living human beings like themselves. She, + in pity of their lives, prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. + Then her father bade her to have no fear, for he intended to save every + one of them. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, and + that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, Antonio + and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his hands. + </p> + <p> + When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for Ariel + was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed for his + complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being + threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when Sycorax + ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the master who + had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and promised + faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + </p> + <p> + Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search + of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near him, + singing the while-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Come unto these yellow sands + </p> + <p> + And then take hands: + </p> + <p> + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + </p> + <p> + (The wild waves whist), + </p> + <p> + Foot it featly here and there; + </p> + <p> + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a solemn + air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his eyes, for + thus they ran-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + </p> + <p> + Of his bones are coral made. + </p> + <p> + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + </p> + <p> + Nothing of him that doth fade, + </p> + <p> + But doth suffer a sea-change + </p> + <p> + Into something rich and strange. + </p> + <p> + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + </p> + <p> + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of + Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. For + Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen any human + being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with reverence in her + eyes, and love in her secret heart. + </p> + <p> + “I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I ever + saw so noble!” + </p> + <p> + And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + </p> + <p> + “Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + </p> + <p> + Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for + scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to + make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly + delighted, pretended wrath. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="miranda" id="miranda"></a> “You come here as a spy,” he said to + Ferdinand. “I will manacle your neck and feet together, and you shall feed + on fresh water mussels, withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to + drink. Follow.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero + charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and + Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he + harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There he + set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of + timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his + toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + </p> + <p> + She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would not + let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and she, + hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he gave + his consent to their marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island were + plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand being + dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on Alonso's + death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose while their + victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + </p> + <p> + Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and + just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder and + lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet disappeared. + Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + </p> + <p> + Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his cell, + where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly + repenting them of their sins. + </p> + <p> + Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll + drown my book.” + </p> + <p> + So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in his + proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he forgave them + and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly committed him + and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. Alonso, who seemed + sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented the loss of his heir. + But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them Ferdinand and Miranda + playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet his loved son again, and + when he heard that the fair maid with whom Ferdinand was playing was + Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks had plighted their troth, he + said-- + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chess" id="chess"></a> “Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow + still embrace his heart that doth not wish you joy.” + </p> + <p> + So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they + all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. + Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the + rejoicings at the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own dukedom, + where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. He + practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not only + because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his + bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took no + vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + </p> + <p> + As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander where + he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + </p> + <p> + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + </p> + <p> + There I couch when owls do cry. + </p> + <p> + On the bat's back I do fly + </p> + <p> + After summer, merrily: + </p> + <p> + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + </p> + <p> + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="like" id="like"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> AS YOU LIKE IT + </p> + <p> + <br /> There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom + that should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His + brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold + forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="celia" id="celia"></a> The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, + remained with Celia, Frederick's daughter, and the two loved each other + more than most sisters. One day there was a wrestling match at Court, and + Rosalind and Celia went to see it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was + there, who had killed many men in contests of this kind. Orlando, the + young man he was to wrestle with, was so slender and youthful, that + Rosalind and Celia thought he would surely be killed, as others had been; + so they spoke to him, and asked him not to attempt so dangerous an + adventure; but the only effect of their words was to make him wish more to + come off well in the encounter, so as to win praise from such sweet + ladies. + </p> + <p> + Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance by + his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until he saw + Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now the sight + of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that he did + marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the wrestler + had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased with his + courage, and asked his name. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + </p> + <p> + Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to the + banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando was, + and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that this + handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and as + they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another kind + word to the brave young man. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for + me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + </p> + <p> + Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the handsome + wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first sight. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than + myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chain" id="chain"></a> “Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you + are banished. If within ten days you are found within twenty miles of my + Court, you die.” + </p> + <p> + So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest + of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was + rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as a + young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said that + she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very tired when + at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were sitting on the + grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede asked him if he could get + them food. He did so, and told them that a shepherd's flocks and house + were to be sold. They bought these and settled down as shepherd and + shepherdess in the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's life, + Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the rightful + Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando could think + of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest carving her name on + trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on the bushes, and there + Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met them, but he did not + know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked the pretty shepherd + youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her he loved. + </p> + <p> + “There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and + hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him of + his folly.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If + you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I + will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, + till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + </p> + <p> + And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to + her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had the + fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the right + ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep + on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for + the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on + anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and saw + that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his life. He + fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's life. + </p> + <p> + While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, + whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk of + his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged + Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The + lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to see + the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena + was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she fell + in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger Orlando + had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said truly enough, + “I should have been a woman by right.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love + Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and + live here as a shepherd.” + </p> + <p> + “Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke + and his friends.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="faints" id="faints"></a> When Orlando told Ganymede how his + brother was to be married on the morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing + it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his + voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother + marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + </p> + <p> + Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, and + Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter + Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the + Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. + “That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + </p> + <p> + Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's + clothes again, and after a while came back. + </p> + <p> + She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to + Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + </p> + <p> + So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they lived + happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For Frederick + had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, and so gave + back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a monastery to pray + for forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A shepherd + and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she was herself + disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and all with such + pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere within four walls, + but only in the beautiful green wood. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="perditacolor" id="perditacolor"></a> <img + src="images/wtale2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Prince Florizel and Perdita + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="tale" id="tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, King + of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated when + they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over his kingdom. + After many years, when each was married and had a son, Polixenes came to + stay with Leontes in Sicily. + </p> + <p> + Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into + his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than she + did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, nothing + could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to put a + poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this wicked + action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. He then + told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from the Court + of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo lived on as + Polixenes' friend and counselor. + </p> + <p> + Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the throne, + died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly treated. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="coast" id="coast"></a> While the Queen was in prison she had a + little baby, and a friend of hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in + its best, and took it to show the King, thinking that the sight of his + helpless little daughter would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, + who had never done him any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than + he deserved; but the King would not look at the baby, and ordered + Paulina's husband to take it away in a ship, and leave it in the most + desert and dreadful place he could find, which Paulina's husband, very + much against his will, was obliged to do. + </p> + <p> + Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring + Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except + Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, + Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But + he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that + they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + </p> + <p> + “Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, + Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if that + which is lost be not found.” + </p> + <p> + Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The poor + Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how wicked + and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were with the + Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina came back in a + few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="look" id="look"></a> Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his + folly. His Queen was dead, and the little daughter who might have been a + comfort to him he had sent away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life + had nothing left for him now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed + many sad years in prayer and remorse. + </p> + <p> + The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom + where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell Leontes + where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the ship, he met a + bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + </p> + <p> + But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was richly + dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to her + cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble + parents. + </p> + <p> + The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to his + wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more teaching + than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from her royal + mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different from the + other maidens in the village where she lived. + </p> + <p> + One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was bunting + near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a charming + woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that he was the + Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he was a private + gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty Perdita, he came + almost daily to see her. + </p> + <p> + The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every + day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that the + heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty shepherd + girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, disguised himself, + and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise too, to the old shepherd's + house. They arrived at the feast of sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, + they were made very welcome. There was dancing going on, and a peddler was + selling ribbons and laces and gloves, which the young men bought for their + sweethearts. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, but + sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners and + great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of his + old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + </p> + <p> + “This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green sward. + Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than + herself--too noble for this place.” + </p> + <p> + And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + </p> + <p> + But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the + strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King + made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw + Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and + with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed + with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="perdita" id="perdita"></a> Camillo had long known how sorry + Leontes was for that foolish madness of his, and he longed to go back to + Sicily to see his old master. He now proposed that the young people should + go there and claim the protection of Leontes. So they went, and the + shepherd went with them, taking Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and + the paper he had found pinned to her cloak. + </p> + <p> + Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince + Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was like + the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + </p> + <p> + “Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly + sent her from me.” + </p> + <p> + When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who + had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the + child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told his + tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that Perdita + was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and rewarded the + good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with Perdita, + but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, he was only + too glad to give his consent. + </p> + <p> + Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, who + should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's happiness, + was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for a long time + but-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of Bohemia, + and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, and then + thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="talking" id="talking"></a> Then Paulina, who had been high all + these years in the King's favor, because of her kindness to the dead Queen + Hermione, said--“I have a statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a + piece many years in doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, + Giulio Romano. I keep it in a private house apart, and there, ever since + you lost your Queen, I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please + your Majesty to go and see the statue?” + </p> + <p> + So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and their + attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple curtain + screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the curtain, said-- + </p> + <p> + “She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead + likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand of man + hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it is--behold, and + say, 'tis well.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The + King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. + But speak, is it not like her?” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was not + so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + </p> + <p> + “Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her + to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + </p> + <p> + And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have + stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + </p> + <p> + But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it + moves.” + </p> + <p> + “Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + </p> + <p> + “I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives + presently.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hermione" id="hermione"></a> “Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, + “make me to think so twenty years together.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make it + come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by wicked + magic.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from + its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's + neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was no + statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived hidden, + by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover herself to + her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she could not quite + forgive him till she knew what had become of her little baby. + </p> + <p> + Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it was + like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + </p> + <p> + To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment + when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love around + him once again. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="lear" id="lear">KING LEAR</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his kingdom, + and wished only to end his days quietly near his three daughters. Two of + his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; and the + Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both suitors for the hand of + Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + </p> + <p> + Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed + to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like + to know how much you love me.” + </p> + <p> + Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father + at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him dearer + than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, beauty, + and honor. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="france" id="france"></a> “I love you as much as my sister and + more,” professed Regan, “since I care for nothing but my father's love.” + </p> + <p> + Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his + youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he + said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no more, + no less.” + </p> + <p> + And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her + sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of + duty to their old father. + </p> + <p> + “I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved + me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, + love you, and most honor you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="regan" id="regan"></a> Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished + her to make more extravagant professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” + he said, “be for ever a stranger to my heart and me.” + </p> + <p> + The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried to + say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided the + kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only keep + a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by turns. + </p> + <p> + When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the + kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was + wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, + and our fair France.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of + hers again.” + </p> + <p> + So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having + ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now + went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her + father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred + knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful to + him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended that + they did not hear them. + </p> + <p> + Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would go + into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of a + servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two + friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his Fool, + who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his knights + only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she begged + him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + </p> + <p> + “My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I will + not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + </p> + <p> + And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the castle + of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in professions of + attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in undutiful conduct, + saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on him, and Goneril (who + had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any kindness to the old King) + said five were too many, since her servants could wait on him. + </p> + <p> + Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, he + left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the heath + half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. But + presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last + persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the Earl + of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court of + France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + </p> + <p> + Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. Here + she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a crown of + nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed him, and + Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and + foolish.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="prison" id="prison"></a> And now he knew at last which of his + children it was that had loved him best, and who was worthy of his love. + </p> + <p> + Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were + successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then + Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not + known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and + when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she was, + she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly poison to + her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and though + the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The old King + came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying the body of + his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + </p> + <p> + And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with her + still in his arms, and died. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="twelfth" id="twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful + Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained his + suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the Duke, + bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not let the + very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk veiled; and + all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she would keep fresh + and lasting in her sad remembrance. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="captain" id="captain"></a> The Duke longed for someone to whom he + could tell his sorrow, and repeat over and over again the story of his + love. And chance brought him such a companion. For about this time a + goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian coast, and among those who reached + land in safety were the captain and a fair young maid, named Viola. But + she was little grateful for being rescued from the perils of the sea, + since she feared that her twin brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to + her as the heart in her bosom, and so like her that, but for the + difference in their manner of dress, one could hardly be told from the + other. The captain, for her comfort, told her that he had seen her brother + bind himself “to a strong mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus + there was hope that he might be saved. + </p> + <p> + Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young Duke + Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, she + decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment with + him as a page. + </p> + <p> + In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the + story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, but + soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that his + hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad to woo + Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when she came + to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious man, sick, as + his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger admittance. + </p> + <p> + Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, + and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her + instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, + “We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + </p> + <p> + When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent + away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger + from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the + supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some + love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="olivia" id="olivia"></a> “He left this ring behind him,” she + said, taking one from her finger. “Tell him I will none of it.” + </p> + <p> + Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly + well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness + that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart + for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + </p> + <p> + It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease the + pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario stood by + his side. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” answered Viola. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of your complexion,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="love" id="love"></a> To this came the pretty answer, “About your + years, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder + than herself.” + </p> + <p> + And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead his + love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + </p> + <p> + “If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My + father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, + “perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is her history?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let + concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she pined in + thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like Patience on + a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, who + had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty fashion, + said-- + </p> + <p> + “I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall I + go to the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the story, + “and give her this jewel.” + </p> + <p> + So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, and + openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her + hastily, saying-- + </p> + <p> + “Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + </p> + <p> + But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel for + other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, sent a + messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no heart to + refuse the request. + </p> + <p> + But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the + jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who + at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. + This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew + to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel + between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced + Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The poor + page, in great terror, said-- + </p> + <p> + “I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + </p> + <p> + “Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me + first.” + </p> + <p> + And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to + await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in a + great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her sword, + and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for them both, + at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, and stopped + the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she might, while + Sir Toby called after her-- + </p> + <p> + “A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + </p> + <p> + Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all the + dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he determined + to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he passed Olivia's + house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and whom should he meet + but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking Sebastian for the + cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and walking up to him + struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting back + a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to the rescue + of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir Toby's + clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but that + Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and with + many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning to + Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with many + a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, readily + consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, they were + married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or Sebastian + was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her + himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her door, + and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for leaving + her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and wholesome to + her as howling after music. + </p> + <p> + “Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + </p> + <p> + “Still so constant,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on + her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said + to the page. + </p> + <p> + And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a + thousand deaths would die.” + </p> + <p> + A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, husband, + stay!” + </p> + <p> + “Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + </p> + <p> + And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared + Cesario to be the bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + “O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, but + go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that + Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + </p> + <p> + “I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on + me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their + thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. + Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + </p> + <p> + “One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, looking + first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + “An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin + than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + </p> + <p> + “I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind + waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, “I + should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, + drowned Viola!'” + </p> + <p> + Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she + was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is + akin to love. + </p> + <p> + “Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst + love woman like to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those + swearings keep true.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, and + my fancy's queen.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian a + constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="nothing" id="nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious + storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had gained + so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence they came is + forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of war, Don Pedro + came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his stepbrother Don + John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. + Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in + love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + </p> + <p> + One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in a + musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated + through the open window. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hero" id="hero"></a> “Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” + Claudio, asked, and Borachio settled himself for comfortable listening. + </p> + <p> + “Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her + color or height, and you spoil her.” + </p> + <p> + “In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She is + like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you set + her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and + severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She was + wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not + therefore be dull. + </p> + <p> + Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said + good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, + falling in with his humor. + </p> + <p> + “I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his + Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love with + Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When + Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love for + Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a + masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio + loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his + consent to your union.” + </p> + <p> + Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a + Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to + plead for you. + </p> + <p> + Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he had an + enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's stepbrother + Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro preferred him to + Don John. + </p> + <p> + It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation + which he had overheard. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when + Borachio ceased speaking. + </p> + <p> + On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was + Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + </p> + <p> + They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, + “Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your + influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is beneath + him in rank.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ursula" id="ursula"></a> “I heard him swear his affection,” was + the reply, and Borachio chimed in with, “So did I too.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince had + betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust to an + agent.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk + exchange of opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I + would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the + Garden of Eden.” + </p> + <p> + But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor + Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and + brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing + before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you + like to go to church?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry + Hero.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart thumped + with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor + Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + </p> + <p> + “I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + </p> + <p> + Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband + for Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio a + lesson for nothing. + </p> + <p> + Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he was + confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was a + fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this plan + of hate. + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. “If,” he + said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to overhear us, + that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, see his good + qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we don't know he is + listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful Beatrice should be in + love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he will certainly be on his + knees before her in a week or less.” + </p> + <p> + So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat down + outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something about + a letter she wrote.” + </p> + <p> + “Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night + and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words + 'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + </p> + <p> + Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was + vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. “I + must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of course; + but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my + will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the + rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + </p> + <p> + But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of + her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took + no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one + day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are + talking about her in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="benedick" id="benedick"></a> Having said this, she felt as sure that + Beatrice would overhear what was meant for her ears as if she had made an + appointment with her cousin. + </p> + <p> + In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and + Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, “that + Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + </p> + <p> + “So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me to + tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and + scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making + game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away like + a covered fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too + clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in + Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + </p> + <p> + The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, + stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, + be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + </p> + <p> + We now return to the plan of hate. + </p> + <p> + The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered a + room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio if + he intended to be married to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will + show him if he will follow me.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of + Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + </p> + <p> + Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it + to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; she + was Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the + garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + </p> + <p> + The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the + street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, + and told what he had done. + </p> + <p> + A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a + thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore + arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in prison. + </p> + <p> + Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at + church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her + wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The priest was Friar Francis. + </p> + <p> + Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this + lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, + Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + </p> + <p> + Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be + married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + </p> + <p> + “If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to + utter it,” said the Friar. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, + 'None,'” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” he + continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied Leonato, + “as God gave her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this gift?” + “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the giver.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her + back.” + </p> + <p> + These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don + Pedro and Don John. + </p> + <p> + The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as she + could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except her + father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, “Hence + from her! Let her die!” + </p> + <p> + But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the + soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + </p> + <p> + Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew not + what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead with + shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, and + slander turns to remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a + retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + </p> + <p> + Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do believe + your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the + world as well as you?” + </p> + <p> + “It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said + Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” said + Beatrice. “Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + </p> + <p> + During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were + examined by a constable called Dogberry. + </p> + <p> + The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he + had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + </p> + <p> + Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now + thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved + father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a + friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to + death, and I challenge you to combat.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + </p> + <p> + Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were feeling + scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + </p> + <p> + “The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with what + weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I can't + carve a calf's head.” + </p> + <p> + Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, + the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for justice. + </p> + <p> + The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="francis" id="francis"></a> Borachio thought the moment a happy + one for making a clean breast of it. He laid the whole blame on Don John, + who had disappeared. “The lady Hero being dead,” he said, “I desire + nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + </p> + <p> + Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear + your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + </p> + <p> + “Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may + impose.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's + innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for + you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero + that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings die.” + </p> + <p> + “Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room and + composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his + attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he + had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + </p> + <p> + He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made ready + to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in Leonato's + house, and was faithful to his appointment. + </p> + <p> + He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several + masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick were + present. + </p> + <p> + Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I + swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + </p> + <p> + “Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + </p> + <p> + The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick + interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is Beatrice?” + </p> + <p> + Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Moderately,” answered Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing a + feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And here,” + said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the pocket of + Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! Come, + I will marry you, Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he had + married Claudio and Hero. + </p> + <p> + “How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you + will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but as + you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; + but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was able + to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not sweet + against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="julietcolor" id="julietcolor"></a> <img src="images/rj2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Romeo and + Juliet + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="rj" id="rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu + and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, in + most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were extremely + silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, and instead + of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of pet of their + quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu wouldn't speak to + a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet to a Montagu--or if + they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant things, which often + ended in a fight. And their relations and servants were just as foolish, + so that street fights and duels and uncomfortablenesses of that kind were + always growing out of the Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper + and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to it + except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named + Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he + loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and he + had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love + somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love the + wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends + Mercutio and Benvolio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="fight" id="fight"></a> Old Capulet welcomed him and his two + friends very kindly--and young Romeo moved about among the crowd of + courtly folk dressed in their velvets and satins, the men with jeweled + sword hilts and collars, and the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and + arms, and stones of price set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his + best too, and though he wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone + could see by his mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he + was twelve times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + </p> + <p> + Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable that + from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline whom he + had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as she moved + in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world seemed vain + and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying this, or + something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing his voice, + knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at once to his uncle, + and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the feast; but old + Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to any man under his + own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young man only waited for + a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in sweet + words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent for + her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his heart's + hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. So he went + away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet" id="juliet"></a> Then Juliet said to her nurse: + </p> + <p> + “Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + </p> + <p> + Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the + beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was + hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go + right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to be + there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how she + loved Romeo. + </p> + <p> + And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked up + and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming creepers + that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he felt as + though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some magician + in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + </p> + <p> + “Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what does + it matter what you are called?” + </p> + <p> + “Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be + Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade of + the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + </p> + <p> + She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, + and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below + and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one trying + to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant talk that + lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music their + voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you children + may read it for yourselves some day. + </p> + <p> + And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other + and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though + they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + </p> + <p> + “I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + </p> + <p> + And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. Romeo + went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, and, + telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet without + delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + </p> + <p> + So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he + purposed to do, the old woman took back a message that all was well, and + all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next morning. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet2" id="juliet2"></a> The young lovers were afraid to ask + their parents' consent to their marriage, as young people should do, + because of this foolish old quarrel between the Capulets and the + Montagues. + </p> + <p> + And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, because + he thought that when they were once married their parents might soon be + told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old quarrel. + </p> + <p> + So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar + Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to + come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder + to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to his + dear wife quietly and alone. + </p> + <p> + But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + </p> + <p> + Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the + Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in + the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no + wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and he + and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this + friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had + killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + </p> + <p> + So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's cousin, + and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young husband met + that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the flowers, and found + her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they parted with bitter + tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know when they should meet + again. + </p> + <p> + Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, + wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she + refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. + He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two + days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and + not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, + and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. Will + you do this, or are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home and + told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and told her + father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a different story. + </p> + <p> + Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about + inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone stayed + up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little time to do + it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because he saw she + was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her husband + Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of her cousin + Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else to think + about. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her for + her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out + suddenly-- + </p> + <p> + “Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was + born!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the + bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their + weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a + marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a + letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been + well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="dead" id="dead"></a> But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant + who knew the secret of the marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, + heard of her funeral, and hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young + wife was dead and lying in the grave. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He + hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a + vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps + that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a + voice behind him calling on him to stop. + </p> + <p> + It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you + vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + </p> + <p> + Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + </p> + <p> + “You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must + die.” + </p> + <p> + “I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle + youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better than + myself--go--leave me here--” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tomb" id="tomb"></a> Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest + you as a felon,” and Romeo, in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They + fought, and Paris was killed. + </p> + <p> + As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with + Juliet!” + </p> + <p> + And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + </p> + <p> + And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear + Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held her in + his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, while all + the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her awakening. + Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and wife. + </p> + <p> + Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had + happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband + and her friend both dead beside her. + </p> + <p> + The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and Friar + Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She saw the + cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and since no + poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust it through + her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's breast, she died. + And here ends the story of these faithful and most unhappy lovers. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had befallen, + they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief their wicked + quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the bodies of + their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship and + forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="pericles" id="pericles"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="perciles" id="perciles">PERICLES</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an + enemy of Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great + was the danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty + counselor, Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a + time. He came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his + father, he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing + Helicanus Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving + his kingdom was soon made clear. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from + Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The + faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked lord, + and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the danger which + threatened him. + </p> + <p> + The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, + feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But a + dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel was + wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised and wet + and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of Pentapolis, + the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, he looked for + nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, coming down to + the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade him be of good + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have flesh + for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and flapjacks, + and thou shalt be welcome.” + </p> + <p> + They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going to + the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his daughter, + the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + </p> + <p> + “Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make + one there.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it + dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it + in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, he + blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, which + had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen to let + him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the tournament, + promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would reward them + well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully equipped, + Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + </p> + <p> + In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the + wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. + Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he came; + and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, but he did + not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he knew that if + once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life would not be + worth a pin's purchase. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with his + courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter to have + her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger knight or die. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tournament" id="tournament"></a> Thus Pericles became the husband + of the fair lady for whose sake he had striven with the knights who came + in all their bravery to joust and tourney for her love. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, + hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant + throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become their + King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. Moreover, he + sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing Pericles. + </p> + <p> + Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King there, + told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, and that, + Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from returning + to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law who he + really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly rejoiced to + know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his own right. So + Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. But once more + the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke out, and while + it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that a little daughter + was born to him. This news would have made his heart glad indeed, but that + the servant went on to add that his wife--his dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + </p> + <p> + While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, the + sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown + overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long as a + dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest with + spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote these + lines: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + “Here I give to understand + </p> + <p> + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + </p> + <p> + I, King Pericles, have lost + </p> + <p> + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + </p> + <p> + Who finds her, give her burying; + </p> + <p> + She was the daughter of a King; + </p> + <p> + Besides this treasure for a fee, + </p> + <p> + The gods requite his charity!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by + and by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of + a lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he saw + how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took immediate + steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, who had been + thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling sure that she + would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the world, and + became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + </p> + <p> + While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his + little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at sea. + Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, the + King sailed for his own dominions. + </p> + <p> + Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and wicked + woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more accomplished and + charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to take Marina's life. + So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of her servants to take + her away and kill her. This villain would have done so, but that he was + interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried Marina off to sea with + them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold her as a slave. Yet such + was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, that she soon became honored + there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, fell deep in love with her, and + would have married her, but that he thought she must be of too humble + parentage to become the wife of one in his high position. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was + really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it to + King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see his + much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was terrible + to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed never to + wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion erected on deck, + and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke word to none. + </p> + <p> + At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and + Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel came. + When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he bethought him + of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King from his stupor, + sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade the King to speak, + promising whatever reward she would, if she succeeded. Marina gladly + obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and sang to her poor + grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he made no sign. So + presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might equal his, for, + though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that stood equal to mighty + kings. + </p> + <p> + Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked + up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his + lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her + tell her story. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="marina" id="marina"></a> Then, with many interruptions from the + King, she told him who she was and how she had escaped from the cruel + Dionyza. So Pericles knew that this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed + her again and again, crying that his great seas of joy drowned him with + their sweetness. “Give me my robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + </p> + <p> + Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of + heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a + vision. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden + priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + </p> + <p> + Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly had + he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you are--O + royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently recovering, + she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” “The voice of + dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa am I,” she said, + and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very truth. + </p> + <p> + Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found happiness + once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the pain of the + past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only in being restored + to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and became a princess in + the land where she had been sold as a slave. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="hamlet" id="hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father + and mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named + Ophelia. Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + </p> + <p> + While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young + Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung the + King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so + tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, + before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined to + marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + “It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my + loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least + remembers him, and grieves still.” + </p> + <p> + Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of + course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those I + love.” + </p> + <p> + With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their + wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them both. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he + ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. It + seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the King, + so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, and could + not accuse Claudius. + </p> + <p> + And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, from + Wittenberg. + </p> + <p> + “What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend + kindly. + </p> + <p> + “I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My + father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="appears" id="appears"></a> Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, + Horatio told how he, with two gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's + ghost on the battlements. Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at + midnight, the ghost of the King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, + appeared on the battlements in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave + youth. Instead of running away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it + beckoned him he followed it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him + that what he had suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed + his good brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in + his orchard in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked + brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and she + is your mother. Remember me.” + </p> + <p> + Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I + will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your + commands alone live on my brain.” + </p> + <p> + So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of the + ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled dawn + and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered father. + </p> + <p> + The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost + mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, he + determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended madness + in other matters. + </p> + <p> + And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, + and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that she + could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not + believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she + told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the + letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + </p> + <p> + Doubt that the sun doth move; + </p> + <p> + Doubt truth to be a liar; + </p> + <p> + But never doubt I love.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's + supposed madness was love. + </p> + <p> + Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and + yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his + father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the ghost + spoke truly. + </p> + <p> + Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them + to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play was + the story of a man <i>who had been murdered in his garden by a near + relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife.</i> + </p> + <p> + You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his throne, + with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, acted on the + stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And when, in the + play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the sleeping man, + the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the room--the Queen + and others following. + </p> + <p> + Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + </p> + <p> + “Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this + murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + </p> + <p> + Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him for his + conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, wishing to + know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself behind the + hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen got frightened + at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and Polonius behind + the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the King who was hidden + there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and killed, not the King, + but poor old Polonius. + </p> + <p> + So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap killed + his true love's father. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hamlet2" id="hamlet2"></a> “Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is + this,” cried the Queen. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and marry + his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts and how + he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more + friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good King. + And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, but the + Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + </p> + <p> + When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, + he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed + the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our plan, + and send him away to England.” + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, and + these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet should be + put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these letters, and + put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers who were so + ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, Hamlet escaped + on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left him to his fate, + and went on to meet theirs. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. + Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits + too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, and + flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking poor, + foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one day, coming + to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery garland on a + willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and so died. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ophelia" id="ophelia"></a> And Hamlet had loved her, though his + plan of seeming madness had made him hide it; and when he came back, he + found the King and Queen, and the Court, weeping at the funeral of his + dear love and lady. + </p> + <p> + Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice for + the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he leaped + into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + </p> + <p> + “I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt + into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to + love her more than I.” + </p> + <p> + But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes how + Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to slay + Hamlet by treachery. + </p> + <p> + Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were present. + Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes had prepared + for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the wicked King + had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant to give poor Hamlet + when he should grow warm with the sword play, and should call for drink. + </p> + <p> + So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave Hamlet + a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for they had been + fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with Laertes in a + struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked them up again, + Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt sword for + Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he pierced + Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear + Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + </p> + <p> + She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and + the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall dead + by his means. + </p> + <p> + Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and the + two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found courage + to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, if he had + braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives had been spared, + and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well deserved to die. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, + turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + </p> + <p> + “Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all + being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him + die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him with + their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of + Denmark. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="imogencolor" id="imogencolor"></a> <img + src="images/cymbel1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Imogen + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="cymbeline" id="cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two + sons were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and + he was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second + time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's + playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married him. + This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish Leonatus, + banished him from Britain. + </p> + <p> + Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was + not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, but + they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little + children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised + never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone else + as long as they lived. + </p> + <p> + “This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, and + keep it as long as you love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + </p> + <p> + And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and + Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="imogen" id="imogen"></a> When he was come to Rome, where he had + gone to stay with an old friend of his father's, he spent his days still + in thinking of his dear Imogen, and his nights in dreaming of her. One day + at a feast some Italian and French noblemen were talking of their + sweethearts, and swearing that they were the most faithful and honorable + and beautiful ladies in the world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how + he had said many times that his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and + constant than any of the ladies in France. + </p> + <p> + “I say so still,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of the + Italian nobles. + </p> + <p> + “She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your + wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my + finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that my + wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade her to + do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's finger, + and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction to + Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all kindness; + but he was still determined to win his wager. + </p> + <p> + He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to + tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently + perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave her. + Then he said-- + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you + this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to + be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of a + trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some + other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend of + my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="trunk" id="trunk"></a> So the trunk was carried into Imogen's + room, and that night she went to bed and to sleep. When she was fast + asleep, the lid of the trunk opened and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The + story about the jewels was as untrue as the rest of the things he had + said. He had only wished to get into her room to win his wicked wager. He + looked about him and noticed the furniture, and then crept to the side of + the bed where Imogen was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet + which had been the parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the + trunk, and next morning sailed for Rome. + </p> + <p> + When he met Leonatus, he said-- + </p> + <p> + “I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no longer + thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her room, + which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and silver + andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed + talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the + servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from her + arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet + enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have won my + life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has forgotten + me.” + </p> + <p> + And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, + Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder her, + because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same time he + wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old servant, + to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to meet her. + </p> + <p> + Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its orders, + and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the letter + from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before he left, + the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be useful in + sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that Imogen would die, + and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the Queen thought this drink + was a poison, but really and truly it was only a sleeping-draft. + </p> + <p> + When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was + really in the letter he had had from her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her on her + way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the drink he + had had from the Queen. + </p> + <p> + Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. + Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went in, + and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw there, + and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the cave. She + was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought that they + would be angry with her for taking their food, though she had meant to + leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they welcomed her + kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her face was good, + as well as pretty. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with + them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one + day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with the + two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine Pisanio + had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead creature, so + that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, they thought she + was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they carried her away and + laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + </p> + <p> + They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale primroses, + and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and went away + sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not knowing how + she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through the wood. + </p> + <p> + Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to + attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, who + had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come back, not + to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons against + Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the Roman General, + and took service with him as his page. + </p> + <p> + When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and + his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as a + British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline + prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued + the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners brought + before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, who had + put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life since he + had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, as a Roman + soldier, he would be put to death. + </p> + <p> + When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + </p> + <p> + “A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so be + it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let him be + ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, true. He + has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save him, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="stupefied" id="stupefied"></a> Then Cymbeline looked on the page, + who was his own daughter, Imogen, in disguise, and though he did not + recognize her, he felt such a kindness that he not only spared the boy's + life, but he said-- + </p> + <p> + “He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a + prisoner, the noblest taken.” + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from + whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + </p> + <p> + Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was + unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he + came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's + lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed + dead. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my + lord--here, here!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="leonatus" id="leonatus"></a> Leonatus turned to strike the + forward page who thus interfered in his great trouble, and then he saw + that it was his wife, Imogen, and they fell into each other's arms. + </p> + <p> + The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to + the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he + gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, and + the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + </p> + <p> + “I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had + only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole + your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two + boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a + boy like themselves. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with + his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + </p> + <p> + So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever after. + So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the world's end. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="macbeth" id="macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two + stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of Scotland + by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly and well, on + the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part of Scottish + history. The other story issues from a place called Imagination; it is + gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + </p> + <p> + A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a battle + was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals named Macbeth + and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together towards Forres, + in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was awaiting them. + </p> + <p> + While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, + sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="witches" id="witches"></a> “Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + </p> + <p> + Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou shalt + be the father of kings.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of + Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his + children live. Speak, I charge you!” + </p> + <p> + The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the + air. + </p> + <p> + Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, and + were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of them + thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and the + other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title was + to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch + called me, 'King that is to be.'” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth2" id="macbeth2"></a> “Banquo,” he said, “you see that the + witches spoke truth concerning me. Do you not believe, therefore, that + your child and grandchild will be kings?” + </p> + <p> + Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he deemed + it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. He told + Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them both into + villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, however, + thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to keep to + himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + </p> + <p> + Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died in + defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by whose + order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder of bitter + wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she read his + letter, she was determined that he should be King. + </p> + <p> + When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in + Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + </p> + <p> + She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend a + sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are + blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, with + his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared his + guest. + </p> + <p> + “Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have + thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth3" id="macbeth3"></a> “I dare do all that may become a man,” + replied Macbeth; “who dare do more is none.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with + bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she showed + him how to do it. + </p> + <p> + After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at + his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were + stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King + herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon + with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a + voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + </p> + <p> + “Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the + grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” said Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a + heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + </p> + <p> + The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking which + could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain of + Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to him, + and showed him the door of the King's room. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth4" id="macbeth4"></a> Macduff entered, and came out again + crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he + could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms + with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + </p> + <p> + These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. One of + Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was King. But + he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed his mind. If + Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. Macbeth determined, + therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He hired two ruffians, who + slew Banquo one night when he was on his way with Fleance to a banquet + which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. Fleance escaped. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, and + he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of times + since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both.” + </p> + <p> + “We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but + ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall + and sat in Macbeth's place. + </p> + <p> + Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, he + could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry of + Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + </p> + <p> + The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's + ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + </p> + <p> + But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a form + of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have done + this?” + </p> + <p> + Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou + canst not say I did it.” + </p> + <p> + The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass of + wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend + Banquo, whom we miss.” + </p> + <p> + The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the earth, + thou horrible shadow.” + </p> + <p> + Again none saw the ghost but he. + </p> + <p> + “What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + </p> + <p> + The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She + hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow + worse if he was obliged to talk. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches + whose prophecies had so depraved him. + </p> + <p> + He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round a + cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible + creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first witch. + </p> + <p> + “Call them,” replied Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the + flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so + that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He knows + thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware Macduff, the + chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the cauldron till it + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned child + ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child said-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + </p> + <p> + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's + descendants would ever rule Scotland. + </p> + <p> + The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of + phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In each + king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + </p> + <p> + Then he was suddenly left alone. + </p> + <p> + His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They did + not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave a stinging + answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou liest!” shouted + Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and with his last + breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not leave the castle + while one of its inmates remained alive. + </p> + <p> + Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of + cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell + him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not speak + the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers relieved by + royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said that England + was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross blurted out his + news, and Macduff cried, “<i>All</i> dead, did you say? <i>All</i> my + pretty ones and their mother? Did you say <i>all</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into Macbeth's + castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force more solemn + than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was mad. She + walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash her hands + for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, would still + see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to hear her cry that + all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her little hand. + </p> + <p> + “Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the + doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own + mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the + dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + </p> + <p> + One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and + said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered + Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of + air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + </p> + <p> + Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. + Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he + had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="fight2" id="fight2"></a> From the turret windows of Dunsinane + Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed appear to be marching. Every soldier of the + English army held aloft a bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, + and like human trees they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and + the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single + combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when + Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; I + have spilt too much of your blood already.” + </p> + <p> + “My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade him + yield. + </p> + <p> + “I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a + King's head by the hair. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + </p> + <p> + So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the + descendants of Banquo were kings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="aemilia" id="aemilia"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="comedy" id="comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His + wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, + and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the + Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had + been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were + exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the + same. + </p> + <p> + And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where these + children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born to a much + poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were the parents + of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the other twins. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, and in + treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed homewards. + </p> + <p> + They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the + crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of + their passengers. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the + slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining + children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and hoped + for safety. + </p> + <p> + The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and + AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from AEgeon + and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by some + people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the babies from + her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very miserable. + Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia Minor. + </p> + <p> + AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than AEmilia, + he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were eighteen. + His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he called Dromio; + and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the children who + floated away from him. + </p> + <p> + At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a + desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and + the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dromio" id="dromio"></a> Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary + to dwell in, and traveled for five years. He did not, during his absence, + learn all the news of Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was + arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of + Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky + enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had angrily + passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand pounds any + Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought before Solinus, + Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a thousand pounds + before the end of the day. + </p> + <p> + You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children + who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of + Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of Duke + Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio + of Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of Syracuse + landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in order to + avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of Syracuse, + and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till he came. + </p> + <p> + In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, his + brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. “Why are + you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked Antipholus of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on + the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that his + mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he asked + Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without delay. + His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he had not + fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found that his gold + had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + </p> + <p> + He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him + with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and + Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and + she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio of + Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, you + may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was really + her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet unless I + said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not know + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent + Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; I + have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine with me + and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of + disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where a + very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + </p> + <p> + They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio + demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by + heart. + </p> + <p> + From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was + Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + </p> + <p> + Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and + finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his wife + that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to another + woman. + </p> + <p> + Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be her + sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone with him, + to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he was not + married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a mermaid, he + would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her floating + golden hair. + </p> + <p> + Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to Adriana, + who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be seen or + heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo the + goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which he + had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + </p> + <p> + The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated his + “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took the + chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He offered + payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse" id="syracuse"></a> The consequence was that Angelo was + without money when a creditor of the sort that stands no nonsense, + threatened him with arrest unless he paid his debt immediately. This + creditor had brought a police officer with him, and Angelo was relieved to + see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of the house where he had been dining + because he had been locked out of The Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay + when Antipholus denied receipt of the chain. Angelo could have sent his + mother to prison if she had said that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus + in charge. + </p> + <p> + At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus + that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. To + the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He would + gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly telling + him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband a purse + of money which she would find in his desk. + </p> + <p> + Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had + been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from getting + the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master + immediately. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his + real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what he + meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further + surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he + had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of + Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. + “Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she + received. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was to + have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger when + Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch a + purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the slave in + the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; and his temper + did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived under the + impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He raged so much + that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of Adriana spared him + this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of him, and asked the + doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse2" id="syracuse2"></a> Angelo's merchant creditor being + paid, the two were friendly again, and might soon have been seen chatting + before an abbey about the odd behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” + said the merchant at last, “that's he, I think.” + </p> + <p> + It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, and he + wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly pounced + upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the chain he had + the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his temper, and drew + his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several others appeared. “Hold!” + shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is mad. Take his sword away. + Bind him--and Dromio too.” + </p> + <p> + Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, + “Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + </p> + <p> + Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, + and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + </p> + <p> + “To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + </p> + <p> + Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was mad. + </p> + <p> + Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, for + the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that if her + husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the present. + </p> + <p> + Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and + behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two + others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had + not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + </p> + <p> + Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a + woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing + his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + </p> + <p> + The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the order + than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that his + master had singed off the doctor's beard. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his brother + of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, “Justice, + most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to Adriana. “She has + treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="amelia" id="amelia"></a> Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, + “Unless I am delirious, I see my son Antipholus.” + </p> + <p> + No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the + doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang who + tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he had + escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + </p> + <p> + The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was seen + to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked + Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw my + father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to the + brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to + acknowledge me in misery.” + </p> + <p> + Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio + of Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and + Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + </p> + <p> + It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by + paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I am + thy wife AEmilia.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband + reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in + the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. + Will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + </p> + <p> + The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="casketcolor" id="casketcolor"></a> <img + src="images/venice1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Choosing the Casket + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="venice" id="venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were + on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with + England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very + generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of + his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + </p> + <p> + Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless + and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his + fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio for + further help. + </p> + <p> + “To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I + have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + </p> + <p> + Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all + quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because + she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked on + me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should win + her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to + Belmont, where she lives.” + </p> + <p> + “All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready + money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for you + what you need.” + </p> + <p> + There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named + Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated him + with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a cur, + over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted to all + these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he cherished + a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio both hurt his + pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought Shylock, “I should + be richer by half a million ducats. On the market place, and wherever he + can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, and--worse than that--he + lends out money freely.” + </p> + <p> + So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats to + Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to Antonio, + said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with you and + have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no interest. + But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be agreed that + if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall have the right + to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of your body I choose.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the + time. I will sign the bond.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to woo + the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's pretty + daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her lover, and + she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of ducats and + precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to see. His love + for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my feet and the jewels + in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in hearing of the serious + losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose ships were wrecked. “Let + him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him look to his bond.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. + He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and beauty + had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them Portia had + but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would pledge himself + to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were conditions that + frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would win Portia's heart + and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held her portrait. If he + guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if wrong, then he was + bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, never to marry, and + to go away at once. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="morocco" id="morocco"></a> The caskets were of gold, silver, and + lead. The gold one bore this inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain + what many men desire;” the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall + get as much as he deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who + chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as + brave as he was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He + chose the gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could + contain her picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the + likeness of what many men desire--death. + </p> + <p> + After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have + what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and + found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from making + his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved him dearly, + even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at once, for, + as I am, I live upon the rack.” + </p> + <p> + Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant + lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the + caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he + said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and + so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; joy + be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait + inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bond" id="bond"></a> “Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house + is yours, and with them I give you this ring, from which you must never + part.” + </p> + <p> + And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to + swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers + came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock + demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was + entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as + Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + </p> + <p> + “First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then go + to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money + enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + </p> + <p> + But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and + arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from a + celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in to + decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of + Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the + money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's + only answer was-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + </p> + <p> + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + </p> + <p> + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her + own husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great + Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. Then + in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her + entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + </p> + <p> + “But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the + money-lender. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="home" id="home"></a> “Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A + sentence: come, prepare.” + </p> + <p> + “Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only to + his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property will + be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + </p> + <p> + And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take + your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even by + the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + </p> + <p> + Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats + that I lent him, and let him go.” + </p> + <p> + Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have + nothing but his bond.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ring" id="ring"></a> “You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to + take the life of a Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your + life and goods are forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to Shylock + had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender forfeited half + his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other half on his + daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + </p> + <p> + Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part with + the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised never to + part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to Portia, + she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with him until + she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was she who, in + the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and got the ring + from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier than ever, to know + how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the caskets. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="timon" id="timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens + whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but no + worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If + anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. + If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was + offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he + would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in + front of Timon to receive double its market price. + </p> + <p> + Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. + When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly + wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, + “There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those + singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a + night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of + his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees + them not!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="timon2" id="timon2"></a> Of course, Timon was much praised. + </p> + <p> + A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect + till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon + gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, “O, + he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” said + another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; and + other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + </p> + <p> + But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to + knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + </p> + <p> + “You will die for that,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know + what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + </p> + <p> + This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, + because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number of + acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not shun + them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, and is + inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + </p> + <p> + Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, + after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and + the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise man + has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and he did + not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and + furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected + him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day + Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said to his + steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a hundred, + thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of the world + if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="picture" id="picture"></a> “Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try + Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius because he had once got Ventidius out + of prison by paying a creditor of this young man. Ventidius was now rich. + Timon trusted in his gratitude. But not for all; so much did he owe! + Servants were despatched with requests for loans of money to several + friends: + </p> + <p> + One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus + said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last night.” + Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, perfect + gentleman, your master, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, jovially. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I beg + you to fill with money, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! ha!” + “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. I've + warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you know this + is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you act like a good + boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three solidares for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + </p> + <p> + Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was + Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is + beholden to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in + affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent + him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of a + lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a + banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in the + least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and said + to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + </p> + <p> + “I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said + Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="box" id="box"></a> “It was a real grief to me to be without ready + money when he asked for some,” said Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + </p> + <p> + Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies and + compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + </p> + <p> + In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. Mouths + watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + </p> + <p> + “Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the gods + of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are our gods, + were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men love the + joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain twenty + villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. Uncover the + dishes, dogs, and lap!” + </p> + <p> + The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. They + thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, they + uncovered the dishes. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in them but warm water. + </p> + <p> + “May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the + flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your + villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, and + then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, he + went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + </p> + <p> + His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + </p> + <p> + Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a + handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, + having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. The + thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not soften + Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern the fact that + good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He determined to see + nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of Ventidius and the + meanness of Lucullus. + </p> + <p> + He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the earth + for food. + </p> + <p> + One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck + gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, + and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold vein + gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, “will + make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. It will + buy murder and bless the accursed.” + </p> + <p> + He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached + with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades + did not recognize him at first. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon would + none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when they found + he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his opinion of them, + but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you more?” + </p> + <p> + With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and + then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could + have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + </p> + <p> + Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug + up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + </p> + <p> + Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said + Apemantus. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can imitate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said + Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as they + ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="sullen" id="sullen"></a> “If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should + throw myself away.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a + good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + </p> + <p> + “Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told + him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a + pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + </p> + <p> + Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he was + sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him with an + evil wish. + </p> + <p> + This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had + departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + </p> + <p> + “You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + </p> + <p> + “No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it + poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full + pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that day + of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “Away! What are you?” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you + are a man, I have forgotten you.” + </p> + <p> + “I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + </p> + <p> + Flavius began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you + because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh or + beg.” + </p> + <p> + They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you + rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. I + will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh + slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die + in jail before you pay his debt.” + </p> + <p> + Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his back + on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to + obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + </p> + <p> + The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty + nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon + therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom he + had patronized in his prosperity. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how your + friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + </p> + <p> + “We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + </p> + <p> + “You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I did + not come for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of + gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + </p> + <p> + “Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” answered + Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, “Put that + into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a whack to the + poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for it. There's gold + for you.” + </p> + <p> + They hurriedly withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was + threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter noble + whose gold might help the foe. + </p> + <p> + “Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you + dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + </p> + <p> + “Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, and + more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + </p> + <p> + “Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; + you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could + save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” they + said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and + seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + </p> + <p> + The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown + before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, + who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They + looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield if + he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper than + arrows. + </p> + <p> + “These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged you, + Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your + revenge needs human flesh.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will + inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble + general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, “He + is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone with + letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed them on + wax.” + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + </p> + <p> + all living men did hate. + </p> + <p> + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + </p> + <p> + and stay not here your gait.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> “Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens + with an olive branch instead of a sword. + </p> + <p> + So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter than + Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a warning + lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="othello" id="othello">OTHELLO</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, + who hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead + of Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, + whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago had + a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he could + not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + </p> + <p> + Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called + him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been + vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great + traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. Brave + as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a terrible + selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as absolutely + as he possessed something that did not live and think. The story of + Othello is a story of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="adventures" id="adventures"></a> One night Iago told Roderigo that + Othello had carried off Desdemona without the knowledge of her father, + Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo to arouse Brabantio, and when that + senator appeared Iago told him of Desdemona's elopement in the most + unpleasant way. Though he was Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and + a Barbary horse. + </p> + <p> + Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to + fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used was + his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth escapes. + Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained how she + could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I saw + Othello's visage in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there + was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to + go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to + go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him + at Cyprus. + </p> + <p> + Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, + my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and + Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with + my own happiness.” + </p> + <p> + News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he + proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + </p> + <p> + Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago + decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, as + Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought wine + into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and so + Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="othello2" id="othello2"></a> When Cassio was inclined to be + quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say something unpleasant to him. Cassio + cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the presence of Montano, the ex-governor. + Montano civilly interceded for Roderigo, but received so rude an answer + from Cassio that he said, “Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded + him, and Iago sent Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + </p> + <p> + The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I + love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + </p> + <p> + On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about + his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. “O + God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an enemy + in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + </p> + <p> + Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio was + pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to Desdemona in + the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and said, “Be merry, + Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your cause.” + </p> + <p> + Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired + hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Iago said, “I don't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something + unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio + who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was + Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who + stole away in that guilty manner.” + </p> + <p> + Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio + retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part + when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. + Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona + told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + </p> + <p> + Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that + Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now + very clear. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective + inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + </p> + <p> + To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. + He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who + steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name + ruins me.” + </p> + <p> + At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident of + his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no other + than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the + meat it feeds on.” + </p> + <p> + Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the remark + that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. “If she + deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + </p> + <p> + Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. She + saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his forehead. + Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello had given her. A + prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this handkerchief from the + silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a liquid prepared from the hearts of + maidens, and embroidered it with strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of + it simply as a cool, soft thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell + upon it that would work destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it + round your head,” she said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But + Othello pettishly said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he + then went indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which + Iago had often asked her to steal. + </p> + <p> + She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he + snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="wine" id="wine"></a> In the garden he was joined by Othello, who + seemed hungry for the worst lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello + that he had seen Cassio wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because + it was spotted with strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had + given his wife. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness + that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I + accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that + Cassio is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. + Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry + pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to + copy it for him. + </p> + <p> + Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona + about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation between + Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's sweetheart, + and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was Desdemona. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + </p> + <p> + “The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, + adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the + matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like + the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's + fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he + prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not the + dog I shall throw it to.” + </p> + <p> + Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea + that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the + embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the + handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + </p> + <p> + Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech + inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise his + wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the needle, her + voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her wit, her + sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised her Iago said + something that made him remember his anger and utter it foully, and yet he + must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of + it, Iago!” + </p> + <p> + There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there + had been he might have wavered then. + </p> + <p> + “Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + </p> + <p> + The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a relative + of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter for Othello from + the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from Cyprus, and gave the + governorship to Cassio. + </p> + <p> + Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit + of Cassio. + </p> + <p> + “Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + </p> + <p> + “It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, and + he told her what it contained. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that Othello's + unkindness had wrung out of her. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her + face. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="handkerchief" id="handkerchief"></a> Now was the time for Desdemona + to have saved her life by separation, but she knew not her peril--only + that her love was wounded to the core. “I have not deserved this,” she + said, and the tears rolled slowly down her face. + </p> + <p> + Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not be + believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in his + nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and roared, + “Out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + “I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in + going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and + his guests. + </p> + <p> + Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, to + Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the + company. + </p> + <p> + Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family quarrels, + and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico asked Iago + for an explanation. + </p> + <p> + True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse + than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from + the discomfort of answering any more questions. + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune + with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona + without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + </p> + <p> + Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's house, + Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, and + Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo as his + assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient friend, + called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + </p> + <p> + At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she must + leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. “It was + his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + </p> + <p> + She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to her--a + song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though it + weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + </p> + <p> + She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed + to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask + God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not + kill thy soul,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to + confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything + that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="weeping" id="weeping"></a> Then Desdemona wept, but with violent + words, in spite of all her pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and + mortally hurt her. + </p> + <p> + Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, and + Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A guiltless + death I die.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. + Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came running + in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, Emilia told + the truth. + </p> + <p> + And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he + exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + </p> + <p> + But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a + relief from torture. + </p> + <p> + They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he + escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the + Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. Say + I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and say + that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I took him + by the throat and smote him thus.” + </p> + <p> + With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his + lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="katherinecolor" id="katherinecolor"></a> <img + src="images/shrew1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Petruchio and Katherine + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="schrew" id="schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair + daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, and + unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her sister, + Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more than one + suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the elder daughter + must marry first. + </p> + <p> + So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to + marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to + their suit for Bianca. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought of, + and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the + disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just the + sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he himself + would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + </p> + <p> + Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his gentle + daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she was anything + but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, complaining that the + naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, because he told her she + was not playing correctly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to + have some chat with her.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="master" id="master"></a> When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, + Kate--for that, I hear, is your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and + sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every + town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable + things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + </p> + <p> + “If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still + protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + </p> + <p> + When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + </p> + <p> + “How speed you with my daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + </p> + <p> + “How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ears" id="ears"></a> “I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you + are acting a father's part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. You + should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will go + off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! we + will be married on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent + temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in + love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was + not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her + rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she did + indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + </p> + <p> + To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the + wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was + ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby + way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + </p> + <p> + And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, + Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or drink--saying + that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with her. + </p> + <p> + And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in + so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. + He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by + rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the + way. + </p> + <p> + She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was + determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had + made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never + forget. + </p> + <p> + So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served he + found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and ill-served, + and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but the best. At + last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless to bed. Then + her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how anxious he was + that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, throwing the pillows + and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not go to bed at all, and + still kept growling and scolding at the servants so that Kate might see + how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + </p> + <p> + The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught + away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for + want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + </p> + <p> + “I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + </p> + <p> + “What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's + secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would + she like tripe? + </p> + <p> + “Bring it me,” said Katharine. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the servant. + “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + </p> + <p> + “I love it,” said Kate. + </p> + <p> + “But mustard is too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was + getting hungrier and hungrier. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or + anything thou wilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + </p> + <p> + Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun to + satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new + clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine + was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made for + her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and gown on + the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish things. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="supper" id="supper"></a> “I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All + gentlewomen wear such caps as these--” + </p> + <p> + “When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not till + then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but privately + asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the sun + breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit. + It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to see + that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and her + sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get there.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, + whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't go + to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + </p> + <p> + At last they started for her father's house. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the moon,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + “I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or + whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, for + from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and never + again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + </p> + <p> + So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found + all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly + married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat + down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing + Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many + disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and + froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with such + spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the new + bride. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh + against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear you + have got the veriest shrew of all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us shall + send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the one whose + wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree on.” + </p> + <p> + The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the most + dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + </p> + <p> + They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or + hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + </p> + <p> + “Content,” cried the others. + </p> + <p> + Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to + him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the + servant coming back, said-- + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + </p> + <p> + “There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh--if you <i>entreat</i> her,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will + not be entreated.” + </p> + <p> + But now the servant came in, and said-- + </p> + <p> + “She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I + <i>command</i> her to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and + that she would not come. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking by the parlor fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch them here.” + </p> + <p> + When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Here is a wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + </p> + <p> + “It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add another + twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another + daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + </p> + <p> + So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife and + true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her well, + and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they lived + happy ever afterwards. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="measure" id="measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were + governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was + excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + </p> + <p> + The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna was + enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief secretary + showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, that wrongdoers + must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He knew that, if he were + suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause people to call him a + tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council that he must go to + Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen Angelo to rule in my + absence,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean man. + He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have nothing + to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana lived + forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, and + loving him still. + </p> + <p> + Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called Thomas + and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of giving + religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to stay at + home and see how Angelo governed. + </p> + <p> + Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young man + named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would only be + punished by severe reproof. + </p> + <p> + Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of freedom + for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead with + Angelo. + </p> + <p> + Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, + and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + </p> + <p> + An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but not + kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy + than is in the law.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine + the next morning. + </p> + <p> + After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the + condemned man desired to see him. + </p> + <p> + “Admit her,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor to + your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased the + beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she + continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A fault + cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault went + free.” + </p> + <p> + She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You are + too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + </p> + <p> + So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon + him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis too + late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with reasons, + and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dress" id="dress"></a> She told him that nothing becomes power like + mercy. She told him that humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, + that it was good to have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a + giant. She told him that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. + She bade him look for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to + refrain from making it an argument against her brother's life. + </p> + <p> + Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's + beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for the + love of man. + </p> + <p> + He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + </p> + <p> + She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a few + hours.' + </p> + <p> + In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his + judicial duty. + </p> + <p> + When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother cannot + live.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. Heaven + keep your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight + in comparison with the loss of her. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + </p> + <p> + “Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay + upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the just + man he pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. At + first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. But when + he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by marrying + Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and he + exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + </p> + <p> + “O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to request + some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose + love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let + Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, + in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would + marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it + might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly + like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They + were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="angelo" id="angelo"></a> In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, + seeing a man dressed like a friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, + friar?” “I have none,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one about + the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and called the + Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love him. “The + Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the Duke, + grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he thought + of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a friar, + replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to see + another merry to being merry himself.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the two + girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They went into + a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and while they + talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the window and saw + the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which betrayed Mariana's + indifference to her country dwelling. Some women would have beautified + their garden: not she. She was for the town; she neglected the joys of the + country. He was sure that Angelo would not make her unhappier. + </p> + <p> + “We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + </p> + <p> + So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, + and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone which + flashed in the light with secret colors. + </p> + <p> + Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared to + learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, + however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His + amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever + you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the + clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + </p> + <p> + But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another head,” + and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the hand and + seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows it not. + Give Angelo another head.” + </p> + <p> + The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's + signet and I know his hand.” + </p> + <p> + He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the age + of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + </p> + <p> + The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its + resemblance to Claudio's. + </p> + <p> + The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city gates + from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and Escalus duly + presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their conduct of + affairs in the Duke's absence. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, + passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried + for justice. + </p> + <p> + When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a + slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Friar Lodowick,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against your + Grace.” + </p> + <p> + A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took off + her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was worth + looking on.” + </p> + <p> + Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand + which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage between + us, but I found her frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. + Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar + Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + “He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the missing + witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and + accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as + abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, + that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled + for his impudence. + </p> + <p> + “To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, + the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve + you, work it for all it's worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + “Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to + Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + </p> + <p> + “Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is now + your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but well + the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said the + Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid his + head!” + </p> + <p> + “O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="prince" id="prince"></a> “O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no + better man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned + inflexibility. + </p> + <p> + “Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio was executed at an unusual + hour?” + </p> + <p> + Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, “I + had a private message.” + </p> + <p> + “You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then + departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer + death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost + re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I saved this + man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to Isabella, “I + pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my brother, too, if + you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + </p> + <p> + She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the + Provost. + </p> + <p> + Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="verona" id="verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. + Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived at + Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name because + it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a Valentine to + be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because it was that of + a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him to be a lover at + one time and a traitor at another. + </p> + <p> + One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm not in + love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, who + was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry to + part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, and + I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant called + Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's daughter, + Silvia. + </p> + <p> + When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she + loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in the + presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, for + when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be + annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone + than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her + heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So by + tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved him. + Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, and you + shall marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's + letter and talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Let me read it,” said Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is very + happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I were + with him.” + </p> + <p> + This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go to + Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go + to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my + outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent + after you.” + </p> + <p> + It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two + days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and he + gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till + death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him + under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that she + wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well of, + but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike + writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. “Take + it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="silvia" id="silvia"></a> “Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not + write tenderly enough.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; but + his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed + Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The + joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He meant + that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: “If + master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + </p> + <p> + On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and + afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love for + Julia was prospering. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink + all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + </p> + <p> + “You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “She is divine,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="theletter" id="theletter"></a> “Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all + women on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Except Julia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant that + she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + </p> + <p> + “Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired Julia + was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without delay, and + said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself am dearer than + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by the + power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the evil + moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did not + change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to him + the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. “In + the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope ladder, + with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. The + Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom she did + not care a straw. + </p> + <p> + Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make Silvia + fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring Sir Thurio's + tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, “Duty before + friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, but your Grace + should know that he intends to-night to elope with your Grace's daughter.” + He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver of this information, + and the Duke assured him that his name would not be divulged. + </p> + <p> + Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing a + large cloak with a bulging pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir Thurio?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man + so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, proud, + disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I intend, + therefore, to marry again.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the + Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to win + the lady of my choice.” + </p> + <p> + “Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried them,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised + to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in + fact, locked up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a rope + ladder.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="serenade" id="serenade"></a> “But how should I carry it?” asked the + Duke. + </p> + <p> + “A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + </p> + <p> + “Like yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend his + cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the pocket a + sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and read these + words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but + not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are in + Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the + day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + </p> + <p> + Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of the + first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; “walk + hence with that.” + </p> + <p> + After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest near + Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, the + poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They obeyed, + and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that they + offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + </p> + <p> + “I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are not + violent to women or the poor.” + </p> + <p> + The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + </p> + <p> + We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since Proteus + had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which she could + see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and she talked so + sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta would bear the + blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia therefore said that she + intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + </p> + <p> + “You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at this + announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + </p> + <p> + “I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia had + made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her + toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to + see. + </p> + <p> + Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to + hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + </p> + <p> + “They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It was + the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + </p> + <p> + That all our swains commend her? + </p> + <p> + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + </p> + <p> + The heaven such grace did lend her + </p> + <p> + That she might admired be.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow + thundered into her mind-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + </p> + <p> + She excels each mortal thing.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so + beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only + false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She even + went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + </p> + <p> + One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, + “Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the + picture of her she promised me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="outlaws" id="outlaws"></a> Silvia had promised the picture, but she + disliked Proteus. She was obliged to talk to him because he was high in + the favor of her father, who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir + Thurio. Silvia had learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a + sweetheart in Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that + he was disloyal in friendship as well as love. + </p> + <p> + Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the + woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + </p> + <p> + “She thanks you,” said Julia. + </p> + <p> + “You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of herself + that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + </p> + <p> + Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it the + worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made up her + mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + </p> + <p> + Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + </p> + <p> + The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled Valentine, + and he was not wrong. + </p> + <p> + Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some + servants. + </p> + <p> + The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia (in + her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had been + taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. Proteus + rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give me one kind + look.” + </p> + <p> + “O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a lion's + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia + that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + </p> + <p> + “O heaven!” cried Silvia. + </p> + <p> + At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came + crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia + feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But he + struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust you + more.” + </p> + <p> + Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive + me! I grieve! I suffer!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If + Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that I + will stand aside and bless you both.” + </p> + <p> + These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived + her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the + Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia + before he left Verona. + </p> + <p> + Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + </p> + <p> + “I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “But I love you again,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. Your + banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask you + one more boon.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better + than their calling.” + </p> + <p> + “I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be + for wages.” + </p> + <p> + “What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating + Julia. + </p> + <p> + The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + </p> + <p> + “More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment + which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and friendship + was the recital in his presence of the adventures of Julia-Sebastian of + Verona. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="well" id="well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of + Rousillon was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her + husband, and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, + hundreds of miles away. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, and + eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make him, and + would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. But a + pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + </p> + <p> + Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service of + the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her + father's prescriptions. + </p> + <p> + When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the Countess, + who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her own child. Tears + then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the Countess made + Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. The Countess + guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that Bertram was to her + as the sun is to the day. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bertram" id="bertram"></a> She hoped, however, to win this sun by + earning the gratitude of the King of France, who suffered from a lingering + illness, which made him lame. The great doctors attached to the Court + despaired of curing him, but Helena had confidence in a prescription which + her father had used with success. + </p> + <p> + Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was + allowed to see the King. + </p> + <p> + He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would not + become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief which all + the learned doctors cannot give me.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared + that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + </p> + <p> + “And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I + choose!” + </p> + <p> + So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering king. + Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the royal + cripple could skip. + </p> + <p> + He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the throne + room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been dazzled, and + seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome young noblemen + before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found Bertram. Then she + went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, but I am yours!” + Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, “This is the Man!” + </p> + <p> + “Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + </p> + <p> + “My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to + choose a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the + monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who + owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + </p> + <p> + “You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said + the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and + he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not + distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a + bowl.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge him + not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. + “Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you are + so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + </p> + <p> + Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your + interest in her. I submit.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her by the hand,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="king" id="king"></a> Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was + married to Helena. + </p> + <p> + Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped to + sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that now he + had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay at home. + “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made Bertram + feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the war in + Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + </p> + <p> + Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, + giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding + her a cold good-bye. + </p> + <p> + She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get + the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' I + write 'never.'” + </p> + <p> + Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said + farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from his + own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in + trouble, and help you.” + </p> + <p> + She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made him + wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and handed + her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I have run + away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always far away + from her.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name + out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay + the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, and, + leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for Florence. + </p> + <p> + On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' + House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with her. + </p> + <p> + Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter + named Diana. + </p> + <p> + When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman of + yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But after a + time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of Helena's + husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the fact that + he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife was not worth + caring for. + </p> + <p> + The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her + that she was the Countess Rousillon. + </p> + <p> + “He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + </p> + <p> + Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the + same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of + gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will + help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her hair + to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his finger. + It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, yet he + will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your daughter + insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark room, and + agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + </p> + <p> + The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She + said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + </p> + <p> + Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off a lock + of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to Bertram that + he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her into the dark + room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, and felt a sweet + face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he left the room + satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on his finger was a + ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + </p> + <p> + The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught Bertram + that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his + “kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such a + boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French officers + played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost his drum, + and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in the attempt. + His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the story of a + heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="letter" id="letter"></a> “Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been blindfolded. + </p> + <p> + “He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as + interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me + like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there + were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with + spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told Diana + that he was a fool. + </p> + <p> + “This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + </p> + <p> + Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and was + not addicted to boasting. + </p> + <p> + We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her death, + which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, a lord + who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + </p> + <p> + The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed for + Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it accomplished. + </p> + <p> + “His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + </p> + <p> + Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said + that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he + would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + </p> + <p> + “Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget sweet + Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's + Helena's!” + </p> + <p> + “It's not!” said Bertram. + </p> + <p> + Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring I + gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So you + had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother said + it was. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they + were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana + had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, + craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition + signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to + marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="widow" id="widow"></a> “I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than + take Bertram now,” said Lafeu. + </p> + <p> + “Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied that + Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was spent + in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it was to whom + he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now missing from his + finger? + </p> + <p> + Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning + generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + </p> + <p> + “Do I see reality?” asked the King. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + </p> + <p> + She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will + you love me, Bertram?” + </p> + <p> + “To the end of my life,” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in + them. + </p> + <p> + The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy + young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had wished + to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to himself. His + pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a husband of some + sort after all. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="quotations" id="quotations"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ACTION. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + </p> + <p> + More learned than their ears. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVERSITY. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Sweet are the uses of adversity, + </p> + <p> + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + </p> + <p> + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + </p> + <p> + And follows but for form, + </p> + <p> + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + </p> + <p> + And leave thee in the storm. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + </p> + <p> + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + </p> + <p> + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + </p> + <p> + These flies are couched. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Give thy thoughts no tongue, + </p> + <p> + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + </p> + <p> + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + </p> + <p> + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + </p> + <p> + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + </p> + <p> + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + </p> + <p> + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + </p> + <p> + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + </p> + <p> + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + </p> + <p> + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + </p> + <p> + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + </p> + <p> + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + </p> + <p> + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + </p> + <p> + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + </p> + <p> + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + </p> + <p> + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + </p> + <p> + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + </p> + <p> + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + </p> + <p> + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + </p> + <p> + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + </p> + <p> + And it must follow, as the night the day, + </p> + <p> + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AGE. + </p> + <p> + My May of life Is + </p> + <p> + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + </p> + <p> + And that which should accompany old age, + </p> + <p> + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + </p> + <p> + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + </p> + <p> + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + </p> + <p> + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AMBITION. + </p> + <p> + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is + merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a + quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II 2. + </h4> + <p> + I charge thee fling away ambition; + </p> + <p> + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + </p> + <p> + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + </p> + <p> + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + </p> + <p> + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + </p> + <p> + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + </p> + <p> + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + </p> + <p> + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + </p> + <p> + Thy God's, and truth's. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ANGER. + </p> + <p> + Anger is like + </p> + <p> + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + </p> + <p> + Self-mettle tires him. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ARROGANCE. + </p> + <p> + There are a sort of men, whose visages + </p> + <p> + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + </p> + <p> + And do a willful stillness entertain, + </p> + <p> + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + </p> + <p> + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + </p> + <p> + As who should say, “i am Sir Oracle, + </p> + <p> + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + </p> + <p> + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + </p> + <p> + That therefore are reputed wise + </p> + <p> + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + </p> + <p> + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + </p> + <p> + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AUTHORITY. + </p> + <p> + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + </p> + <p> + And the creature run from the cur? + </p> + <p> + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + </p> + <p> + a dog's obeyed in office. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + Could great men thunder + </p> + <p> + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + </p> + <p> + For every pelting, petty officer + </p> + <p> + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + </p> + <p> + Merciful heaven! + </p> + <p> + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + </p> + <p> + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + </p> + <p> + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + </p> + <p> + Drest in a little brief authority -- + </p> + <p> + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + </p> + <p> + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + </p> + <p> + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + </p> + <p> + As make the angels weep. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BEAUTY. + </p> + <p> + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + </p> + <p> + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + </p> + <p> + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + </p> + <p> + of it ever fair. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + </p> + <p> + It so falls out + </p> + <p> + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + </p> + <p> + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + </p> + <p> + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + </p> + <p> + The virtue, that possession would not show us + </p> + <p> + Whiles it was ours. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BRAGGARTS. + </p> + <p> + It will come to pass, + </p> + <p> + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + </p> + <p> + are they not monsters? + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CALUMNY. + </p> + <p> + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + </p> + <p> + thou shalt not escape calumny. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + No might nor greatness in mortality + </p> + <p> + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + </p> + <p> + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + </p> + <p> + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CEREMONY. + </p> + <p> + Ceremony + </p> + <p> + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + </p> + <p> + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + </p> + <p> + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + </p> + <p> + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMFORT. + </p> + <p> + Men + </p> + <p> + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + </p> + <p> + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + </p> + <p> + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + </p> + <p> + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + </p> + <p> + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + </p> + <p> + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + </p> + <p> + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + </p> + <p> + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + </p> + <p> + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + </p> + <p> + To be so moral, when he shall endure + </p> + <p> + The like himself. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- II. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMPARISON. + </p> + <p> + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + </p> + <p> + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + </p> + <p> + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + </p> + <p> + Until a king be by; and then his state + </p> + <p> + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + </p> + <p> + Into the main of waters. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE. + </p> + <p> + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + </p> + <p> + And thus the native hue of resolution + </p> + <p> + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + </p> + <p> + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + </p> + <p> + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + </p> + <p> + And lose the name of action. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENT. + </p> + <p> + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + </p> + <p> + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + </p> + <p> + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + </p> + <p> + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTION. + </p> + <p> + How, in one house, + </p> + <p> + Should many people, under two commands, + </p> + <p> + Hold amity? + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When two authorities are set up, + </p> + <p> + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + </p> + <p> + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + </p> + <p> + The one by the other. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTMENT. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + </p> + <p> + And range with humble livers in content, + </p> + <p> + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + </p> + <p> + And wear a golden sorrow. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COWARDS. + </p> + <p> + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + </p> + <p> + The valiant never taste of death but once. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CUSTOM. + </p> + <p> + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + </p> + <p> + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + </p> + <p> + That to the use of actions fair and good + </p> + <p> + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + </p> + <p> + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + </p> + <p> + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + </p> + <p> + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + </p> + <p> + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + </p> + <p> + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + </p> + <p> + With wondrous potency. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + A custom + </p> + <p> + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEATH. + </p> + <p> + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + </p> + <p> + For that's the end of human misery. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + </p> + <p> + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + </p> + <p> + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + </p> + <p> + Will come, when it will come. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The dread of something after death, + </p> + <p> + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + </p> + <p> + Than fly to others we know not of. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + </p> + <p> + Will seize the doctor too. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DECEPTION. + </p> + <p> + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + </p> + <p> + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + </p> + <p> + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + </p> + <p> + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + </p> + <p> + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEEDS. + </p> + <p> + Foul deeds will rise, + </p> + <p> + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + </p> + <p> + Makes deeds ill done! + </p> + <h4> + King John -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELAY. + </p> + <p> + That we would do, + </p> + <p> + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + </p> + <p> + And hath abatements and delays as many, + </p> + <p> + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + </p> + <p> + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + </p> + <p> + That hurts by easing. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELUSION. + </p> + <p> + For love of grace, + </p> + <p> + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + </p> + <p> + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + </p> + <p> + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + </p> + <p> + Infects unseen. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DISCRETION. + </p> + <p> + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + </p> + <p> + Not to outsport discretion. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DOUBTS AND FEARS. + </p> + <p> + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + </p> + <p> + To saucy doubts and fears. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DRUNKENNESS. + </p> + <p> + Boundless intemperance. + </p> + <p> + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + </p> + <p> + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + </p> + <p> + And fall of many kings. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + </p> + <p> + Love all, trust a few, + </p> + <p> + Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy + </p> + <p> + Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend + </p> + <p> + Under thy own life's key; be checked for silence, + </p> + <p> + But never taxed for speech. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EQUIVOCATION. + </p> + <p> + But yet + </p> + <p> + I do not like but yet, it does allay + </p> + <p> + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + </p> + <p> + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + </p> + <p> + Some monstrous malefactor. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EXCESS. + </p> + <p> + A surfeit of the sweetest things + </p> + <p> + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + </p> + <p> + and the ingredient is a devil. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FALSEHOOD. + </p> + <p> + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + </p> + <p> + Three things that women hold in hate. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEAR. + </p> + <p> + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + </p> + <p> + Where it should guard. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + </p> + <p> + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + </p> + <p> + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEASTS. + </p> + <p> + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + </p> + <h4> + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + </p> + <p> + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + </p> + <p> + Than the sea-monster. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + </p> + <p> + To have a thankless child + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORETHOUGHT. + </p> + <p> + Determine on some course, + </p> + <p> + More than a wild exposure to each cause + </p> + <p> + That starts i' the way before thee. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Yield not thy neck + </p> + <p> + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + </p> + <p> + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTUNE. + </p> + <p> + When fortune means to men most good, + </p> + <p> + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + GREATNESS. + </p> + <p> + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + </p> + <p> + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + </p> + <p> + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + </p> + <p> + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + </p> + <p> + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + </p> + <p> + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + </p> + <p> + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + </p> + <p> + And then he falls, as I do. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + </p> + <p> + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HAPPINESS. + </p> + <p> + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + </p> + <p> + through another man's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HONESTY. + </p> + <p> + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + </p> + <p> + when a knave is not. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + </p> + <p> + one man picked out of ten thousand. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HYPOCRISY. + </p> + <p> + Devils soonest tempt, + </p> + <p> + resembling spirits of light. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + One may smile, and smile, + </p> + <p> + and be a villain. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INNOCENCE. + </p> + <p> + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + </p> + <p> + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INSINUATIONS. + </p> + <p> + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + </p> + <p> + That calumny doth use;-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + For calumny will sear + </p> + <p> + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + </p> + <p> + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + </p> + <p> + Ere you can say she's honest. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JEALOUSY. + </p> + <p> + Trifles, light as air, + </p> + <p> + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + </p> + <p> + As proofs of holy writ. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O beware of jealousy: + </p> + <p> + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + </p> + <p> + The meat it feeds on. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JESTS. + </p> + <p> + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + </p> + <p> + of him that hears it. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + He jests at scars, + </p> + <p> + that never felt a wound. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JUDGMENT. + </p> + <p> + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + </p> + <p> + That no king can corrupt. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LIFE. + </p> + <p> + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + </p> + <p> + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + </p> + <p> + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + </p> + <p> + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + </p> + <p> + Signifying nothing. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + We are such stuff + </p> + <p> + As dreams are made of, and our little life + </p> + <p> + Is rounded with a sleep. + </p> + <h4> + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LOVE. + </p> + <p> + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + </p> + <p> + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Sweet love, changing his property, + </p> + <p> + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + When love begins to sicken and decay, + </p> + <p> + It useth an enforced ceremony. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The course of true-love + </p> + <p> + never did run smooth. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Love looks not with the eyes, + </p> + <p> + but with the mind. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + She never told her love,-- + </p> + <p> + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + </p> + <p> + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + </p> + <p> + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + </p> + <p> + She sat like Patience on a monument, + </p> + <p> + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + </p> + <p> + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MAN. + </p> + <p> + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + </p> + <p> + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + </p> + <p> + how express and admirable! in action, how like + </p> + <p> + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + </p> + <p> + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERCY. + </p> + <p> + The quality of mercy is not strained: + </p> + <p> + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + </p> + <p> + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + </p> + <p> + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + </p> + <p> + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + </p> + <p> + The throned monarch better than his crown: + </p> + <p> + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + </p> + <p> + The attribute to awe and majesty, + </p> + <p> + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + </p> + <p> + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + </p> + <p> + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + </p> + <p> + It is an attribute to God himself; + </p> + <p> + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + </p> + <p> + When mercy seasons justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Consider this,-- + </p> + <p> + That, in the course of justice, none of us + </p> + <p> + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + </p> + <p> + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + </p> + <p> + The deeds of mercy. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERIT. + </p> + <p> + Who shall go about + </p> + <p> + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + </p> + <p> + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + </p> + <p> + To wear an undeserved dignity. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MODESTY. + </p> + <p> + It is the witness still of excellency, + </p> + <p> + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MORAL CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + </p> + <p> + That war against your own affections, + </p> + <p> + And the huge army of the world's desires. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MURDER. + </p> + <p> + The great King of kings + </p> + <p> + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + </p> + <p> + That thou shalt do no murder. + </p> + <p> + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + </p> + <p> + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + </p> + <p> + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MUSIC. + </p> + <p> + The man that hath no music in himself, + </p> + <p> + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + </p> + <p> + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + </p> + <p> + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + </p> + <p> + And his affections dark as Erebus: + </p> + <p> + Let no such man be trusted. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NAMES. + </p> + <p> + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + </p> + <p> + By any other name would smell as sweet. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Good name, in man, and woman, + </p> + <p> + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + </p> + <p> + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + </p> + <p> + But he, that filches from me my good name, + </p> + <p> + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + </p> + <p> + And makes me poor indeed. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NATURE. + </p> + <p> + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + </p> + <p> + Though it be honest, it is never good + </p> + <p> + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + </p> + <p> + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + </p> + <p> + Themselves, when they be felt. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OFFICE. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis the curse of service; + </p> + <p> + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + </p> + <p> + Not by the old gradation, where each second + </p> + <p> + Stood heir to the first. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPORTUNITY. + </p> + <p> + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + </p> + <p> + Shall never find it more. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + </p> + <p> + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + </p> + <p> + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + </p> + <p> + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + </p> + <p> + And we must take the current when it serves, + </p> + <p> + Or lose our ventures. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPRESSION. + </p> + <p> + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + </p> + <p> + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + </p> + <p> + Not you, correct them. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PAST AND FUTURE. + </p> + <p> + O thoughts of men accurst! + </p> + <p> + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PATIENCE. + </p> + <p> + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + </p> + <p> + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PEACE. + </p> + <p> + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + </p> + <p> + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + </p> + <p> + And neither party loser. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + I will use the olive with my sword: + </p> + <p> + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + </p> + <p> + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + I know myself now; and I feel within me + </p> + <p> + A peace above all earthly dignities, + </p> + <p> + A still and quiet conscience. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PENITENCE. + </p> + <p> + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + </p> + <p> + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + </p> + <p> + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PLAYERS. + </p> + <p> + All the world's a stage, + </p> + <p> + And all the men and women merely players: + </p> + <p> + They have their exits and their entrances; + </p> + <p> + And one man in his time plays many parts. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + </p> + <p> + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + </p> + <p> + not to speak it profanely, that, + </p> + <p> + neither having the accent of Christians, + </p> + <p> + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + </p> + <p> + have so strutted, and bellowed, + </p> + <p> + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + </p> + <p> + had made men and not made them well, + </p> + <p> + they imitated humanity so abominably. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + POMP. + </p> + <p> + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + </p> + <p> + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + </p> + <p> + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + </p> + <p> + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + </p> + <p> + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + </p> + <p> + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + </p> + <p> + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + </p> + <p> + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + </p> + <p> + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + </p> + <p> + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + </p> + <p> + the cripple. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRINCES AND TITLES. + </p> + <p> + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + </p> + <p> + An outward honor for an inward toil; + </p> + <p> + And, for unfelt imaginations, + </p> + <p> + They often feel a world of restless cares: + </p> + <p> + So that, between their titles, and low name, + </p> + <p> + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + QUARRELS. + </p> + <p> + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + </p> + <p> + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + </p> + <p> + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RAGE. + </p> + <p> + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPENTANCE. + </p> + <p> + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + </p> + <p> + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPUTATION. + </p> + <p> + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + </p> + <p> + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + </p> + <p> + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + </p> + <p> + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + </p> + <p> + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RETRIBUTION. + </p> + <p> + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + </p> + <p> + Make instruments to scourge us. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- V. S. + </h4> + <p> + If these men have defeated the law, + </p> + <p> + and outrun native punishment, + </p> + <p> + though they can outstrip men, + </p> + <p> + they have no wings to fly from God. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SCARS. + </p> + <p> + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + </p> + <p> + is a good livery of honor. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + To such as boasting show their scars, + </p> + <p> + A mock is due. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + </p> + <p> + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + </p> + <p> + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-EXERTION. + </p> + <p> + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + </p> + <p> + The fault is not in our stars, + </p> + <p> + But in ourselves. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-RELIANCE. + </p> + <p> + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + </p> + <p> + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + </p> + <p> + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + </p> + <p> + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SILENCE. + </p> + <p> + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + </p> + <p> + And in the modesty of fearful duty + </p> + <p> + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + </p> + <p> + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The silence often of pure innocence + </p> + <p> + Persuades, when speaking fails. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + </p> + <p> + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLANDER. + </p> + <p> + Slander, + </p> + <p> + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + </p> + <p> + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + </p> + <p> + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + </p> + <p> + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + </p> + <p> + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + </p> + <p> + This viperous slander enters. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLEEP. + </p> + <p> + The innocent sleep; + </p> + <p> + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + </p> + <p> + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + </p> + <p> + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + </p> + <p> + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SUICIDE. + </p> + <p> + Against self-slaughter + </p> + <p> + There is a prohibition so divine, + </p> + <p> + That cravens my weak hand. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TEMPERANCE. + </p> + <p> + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + </p> + <p> + For in my youth I never did apply + </p> + <p> + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + </p> + <p> + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + </p> + <p> + The means of weakness and debility: + </p> + <p> + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + </p> + <p> + Frosty, but kindly. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + THEORY AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + There was never yet philosopher, + </p> + <p> + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + </p> + <p> + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + </p> + <p> + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TREACHERY. + </p> + <p> + Though those, that are betrayed, + </p> + <p> + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + </p> + <p> + Stands in worse case of woe. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + VALOR. + </p> + <p> + The better part of valor is--discretion. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When Valor preys on reason, + </p> + <p> + It eats the sword it fights with. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + </p> + <p> + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + </p> + <p> + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WAR. + </p> + <p> + Take care + </p> + <p> + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + </p> + <p> + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WELCOME. + </p> + <p> + Welcome ever smiles, + </p> + <p> + And farewell goes out sighing. + </p> + <p> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WINE. + </p> + <p> + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + </p> + <p> + if it be well used. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + </p> + <p> + if thou hast no name to be known by, + </p> + <p> + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + </p> + <p> + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + </p> + <p> + to steal away their brains! + </p> + <p> + that we should with joy, revel, + </p> + <p> + pleasure, and applause, + </p> + <p> + transform ourselves into beasts! + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WOMAN. + </p> + <p> + A woman impudent and mannish grown + </p> + <p> + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORDS. + </p> + <p> + Words without thoughts + </p> + <p> + never to heaven go. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + </p> + <p> + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY CARE. + </p> + <p> + You have too much respect upon the world: + </p> + <p> + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY HONORS. + </p> + <p> + Not a man, for being simply man, + </p> + <p> + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + </p> + <p> + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + </p> + <p> + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + </p> + <p> + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + </p> + <p> + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + </p> + <p> + Do one pluck down another, and together + </p> + <p> + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1430 ***</div> + </body> +</html> + diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bafe1f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4441a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b62241 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fd8c9c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1a21eb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5e1763 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fe38f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc52bef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6124e63 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f444cfa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52f2773 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6098d06 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bff091 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/dream6.gif b/old/1430-h/images/dream6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7a156a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/dream6.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/errors1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/errors1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43832f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/errors1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/errors2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/errors2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e88037c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/errors2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/errors3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/errors3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d2ba37 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/errors3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/errors4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/errors4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6ce467 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/errors4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..138f7c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38732f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec69896 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/klear1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/klear1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74f952c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/klear1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/klear2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/klear2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1eb2ab8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/klear2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/klear3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/klear3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8df939b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/klear3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/maan1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/maan1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfbec79 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/maan1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/maan2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/maan2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d580785 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/maan2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/maan3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/maan3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af72319 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/maan3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/maan4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/maan4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f4b9a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/maan4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/macb1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/macb1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41badd1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/macb1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/macb2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/macb2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba61704 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/macb2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/macb3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/macb3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..107a73e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/macb3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/macb4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/macb4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43d28f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/macb4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/macb5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/macb5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61ffc0f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/macb5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/measure1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/measure1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e74dec --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/measure1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/measure2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/measure2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..895a154 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/measure2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/measure3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/measure3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..df0428d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/measure3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/othello1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/othello1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c228177 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/othello1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/othello2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/othello2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6077726 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/othello2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/othello3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/othello3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f47f28 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/othello3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/othello4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/othello4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a6d50c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/othello4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/othello5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/othello5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..489fe50 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/othello5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/perci1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/perci1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..da5faef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/perci1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/perci2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/perci2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ccff62 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/perci2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a82eff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3dc5781 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..211ba73 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ab502e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d63dc84 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/rj6.gif b/old/1430-h/images/rj6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a9ca1a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/rj6.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b13c9f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..326698e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29c5a5c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8901b34 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2648e5a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ce382 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4617427 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77c4cc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/timon1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/timon1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f4be68 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/timon1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/timon2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/timon2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61b0308 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/timon2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/timon3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/timon3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0f8a54 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/timon3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/timon4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/timon4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a74fc30 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/timon4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d273e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f92e03 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2d028f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/venice1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/venice1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a435e75 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/venice1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/venice2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/venice2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d953df --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/venice2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/venice3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/venice3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9d8804 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/venice3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/venice4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/venice4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..accd6e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/venice4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/venice5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/venice5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cde18b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/venice5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/verona1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/verona1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c26f6fd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/verona1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/verona2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/verona2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ef4920 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/verona2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/verona3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/verona3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19be495 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/verona3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/verona4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/verona4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..022b2de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/verona4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/well1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/well1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f07945 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/well1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/well2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/well2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29e58d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/well2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/well3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/well3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..824dd21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/well3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/well4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/well4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1e2395 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/well4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/ws.gif b/old/1430-h/images/ws.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a9094c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/ws.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..de87229 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..54a26de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e00d238 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7634758 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dac9eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif diff --git a/old/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif b/old/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a52878d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif diff --git a/old/old/bsshk10.txt b/old/old/bsshk10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfbcace --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/bsshk10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7590 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare +#6 in our series by E. Nesbit + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. +Project Gutenberg surfs with a modem donated by Supra. + + +Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + +by E. Nesbit + +August, 1998 [Etext #1430] + + +Project Gutenberg's Etext of Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare +*****This file should be named bsshk10.txt or bsshk10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, bsshk11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, bsshk10a.txt + + +This Etext prepared by Morrie Wilson <admin@worldwideschool.org> + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we do NOT keep these books +in compliance with any particular paper edition, usually otherwise. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month, or 384 more Etexts in 1998 for a total of 1500+ +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach over 150 billion Etexts given away. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/CMU": and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie- +Mellon University). + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This Etext prepared by Morrie Wilson <admin@worldwideschool.org> + + + + + +Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + +By E. Nesbit + + + + +"It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be collected +a system of civil and economical prudence. He has been imitated +by all succeeding writers; and it may be doubted whether from all +his successors more maxims of theoretical knowledge, or more rules +of practical prudence can be collected than he alone has given to +his country."--Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + + + + +PREFACE + + + +The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed "the richest, +the purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned." + +Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving +mere science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than +the whole body of English learning. He is the teacher of all +good-- pity, generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is +cut out "into little stars." His solid masses of knowledge are +meted out in morsels and proverbs, and thus distributed, there is +scarcely a corner of the English-speaking world to-day which he +does not illuminate, or a cottage which he does not enrich. His +bounty is like the sea, which, though often unacknowledged, is +everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, wrote of him, "He +was not of an age but for all time." He ever kept the highroad +of human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths +of feeling and sentiment. In his creations we have no moral +highwaymen, sentimental thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, +elegant adventuresses--no delicate entanglements of situation, in +which the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised +under the superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He +flattered no bad passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, +trifled with no just and generous principle. While causing us to +laugh at folly, and shudder at crime, he still preserves our love +for our fellow-beings, and our reverence for ourselves. + +Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with +all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of +that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and +clear waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and +woodland solitudes, and moon-light bowers, which are the material +elements of poetry,--and with that fine sense of their indefinable +relation to mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying +soul--and which, in the midst of his most busy and tragical scenes, +falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks and ruins--contrasting with +all that is rugged or repulsive, and reminding us of the existence +of purer and brighter elements. + +These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of +Shakespeare, next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of +all the classics of English literature. "So extensively have the +characters of Shakespeare been drawn upon by artists, poets, and +writers of fiction," says an American author,--"So interwoven are +these characters in the great body of English literature, that to +be ignorant of the plot of these dramas is often a cause of +embarrassment." + +But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and +in words that little folks cannot understand. + +Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained +in the plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children +can understand and enjoy them, was the object had in view by the +author of these Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare. + +And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any +unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has +prepared and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of +Difficult Names. To which is added a collection of Shakespearean +Quotations, classified in alphabetical order, illustrative of the +wisdom and genius of the world's greatest dramatist. + +E. T. R. + + + + +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. + + + +In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, +a market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of +April 26, 1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of +John Shakspeare. The entry is in Latin--"Gulielmus filius Johannis +Shakspeare." + +The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as +three days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence +of this fact. + +The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not +always spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record +the name is spelled "Shakspeare," in several authentic autographs +of the dramatist it reads "Shakspere," and in the first edition +of his works it is printed "Shakespeare." + +Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways +in which the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the +name, and in the council-book of the corporation of Stratford, +where it is introduced one hundred and sixty-six times during the +period that the dramatist's father was a member of the municipal +body, there are fourteen different spellings. The modern +"Shakespeare" is not among them. + +Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to +have been unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men +out of ten were content to make their mark for a signature, the +fact is not specially to his discredit. + +The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation +of Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a +woolstapler, and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may +have been all of these simultaneously or at different times, or +that if he could not properly be called any one of them, the nature +of his occupation was such as to make it easy to understand how +the various traditions sprang up. He was a landed proprietor and +cultivator of his own land even before his marriage, and he received +with his wife, who was Mary Arden, daughter of a country gentleman, +the estate of Asbies, 56 acres in extent. William was the third +child. The two older than he were daughters, and both probably +died in infancy. After him was born three sons and a daughter. +For ten or twelve years at least, after Shakespeare's birth his +father continued to be in easy circumstances. In the year 1568 +he was the high bailiff or chief magistrate of Stratford, and for +many years afterwards he held the position of alderman as he had +done for three years before. To the completion of his tenth year, +therefore, it is natural to suppose that William Shakespeare would +get the best education that Stratford could afford. The free +school of the town was open to all boys and like all the +grammar-schools of that time, was under the direction of men who, +as graduates of the universities, were qualified to diffuse that +sound scholarship which was once the boast of England. There is +no record of Shakespeare's having been at this school, but there +can be no rational doubt that he was educated there. His father +could not have procured for him a better education anywhere. To +those who have studied Shakespeare's works without being influenced +by the old traditional theory that he had received a very narrow +education, they abound with evidences that he must have been +solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught +in the grammar schools. + +There are local associations connected with Stratford which could +not be without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's +mind. Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine +old historic towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace +of Kenilworth, the grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own +Avon abounded with spots of singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary +woods. Nor was Stratford shut out from the general world, as many +country towns are. It was a great highway, and dealers with every +variety of merchandise resorted to its markets. The eyes of the +poet dramatist must always have been open for observation. But +nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his birth to his +marriage to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date nothing but +the birth of three children until we find him an actor in London +about 1589. + +How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we +have no means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable +that very soon after arriving in London he began that work of +adaptation by which he is known to have begun his literary career. +To improve and alter older plays not up to the standard that was +required at the time was a common practice even among the best +dramatists of the day, and Shakespeare's abilities would speedily +mark him out as eminently fitted for this kind of work. When the +alterations in plays originally composed by other writers became +very extensive, the work of adaptation would become in reality a +work of creation. And this is exactly what we have examples of +in a few of Shakespeare's early works, which are known to have +been founded on older plays. + +It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's +greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and +the finest minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted +their powers to an elucidation of their worth. + +Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His +father had died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His +wife survived him till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 +at the age of eleven years. His two daughters survived him, the +eldest of whom, Susanna, had, in 1607, married a physician of +Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of this marriage, a daughter +named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first Thomas Nasbe, and +afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by either +marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of +February, 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, +by whom she had three sons, all of whom died, however, without +issue. There are thus no direct descendants of Shakespeare. + +Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew +him in other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his +genius, but their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, +"I love the man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, +as much as any. He was indeed honest, and of an open and free +nature." He was buried on the second day after his death, on the +north side of the chancel of Stratford church. Over his grave +there is a flat stone with this inscription, said to have been +written by himself: + + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare + To digg the dust encloased heare: + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, + And curst be he yt moves my bones. + + + + +CONTENTS PAGE + + + +PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . 7 +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . 19 +THE TEMPEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 +AS YOU LIKE IT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 +THE WINTER'S TALE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 +KING LEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 +TWELFTH NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 +ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 +PERICLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 +HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 +CYMBELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 +MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 +TIMON OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 +OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 +MEASURE FOR MEASURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . . . . . . . . 272 +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES . . . . . . . . 286 +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE + + + +TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES . . . . . . . 20 +THE QUARREL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 +HELENA IN THE WOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 +TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL . . . . . . . . . 30 +TITANIA AWAKES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 +PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . 36 +PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . 39 +PLAYING CHESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 +ROSALIND AND CELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 +ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN . . . . . . . . 47 +GANYMEDE FAINTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 +LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 +THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 +LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . 60 +FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING . . . . . . . . . 62 +HERMOINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 +CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE . . . . . . . . 67 +GONERIL AND REGAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 +CORDELIA IN PRISON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 +VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 +VIOLA AS "CESARIO" MEETS OLIVIA . . . . . . . . 76 +"YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE" . . . . . . . . . . 78 +CLAUDIA AND HERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 +HERO AND URSULA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 +BENEDICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 +FRIAR FRANCIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 +ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 +ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 +MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . 111 +THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD . . . . . . . . . 115 +ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 +PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT . . . . . . . . 122 +PERICLES AND MARINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 +THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS . . . . . . . . . . . 131 +POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . 135 +DROWNING OF OPHELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 +IACHIMO AND IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 +IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 +IMOGEN STUPEFIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 +IMOGEN AND LEONATUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 +THE THREE WITCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 +FROM "MACBETH" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 +LADY MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 +KING AND QUEEN MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 +MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 163 +ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 +LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . . . . 175 +THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . 178 +AEMILIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 +THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 +ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 +JESSICA LEAVING HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 +BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING . . . . . . . . . 192 +POET READING TO TIMON . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 +PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE . . . . . . . 197 +"NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX" . . . . . . . . . . 200 +TIMON GROWS SULLEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 +OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES . . . 211 +OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 +THE DRINK OF WINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 +CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF . . . . . . . . 222 +DESDEMONA WEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 +THE MUSIC MASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 +KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS . . . . . . 232 +PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER . . . . 235 +THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS . . . . . . . . 244 +ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO . . . . . . . . . 247 +"YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE" . . . . . . . 253 +VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA . . . . . 258 +SILVIA READING THE LETTER . . . . . . . . . . 259 +THE SERENADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 +ONE OF THE OUTLAWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 +HELENA AND BERTRAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 +HELENA AND THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 +READING BERTRAM'S LETTER . . . . . . . . . . . 281 +HELENA AND THE WIDOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 + + + + +LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES PAGE + + + +WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece +TITANIA AND THE CLOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 +FERDINAND AND MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 +PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . . . . . . . 54 +ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 +IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 +CHOOSING THE CASKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 +PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + + + + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + +Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to +marry another man, named Demetrius. + +Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which +any girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, +might be put to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for +refusing to do as he wished, that he actually brought her before +the Duke of Athens to ask that she might be killed, if she still +refused to obey him. The Duke gave her four days to think about +it, and, at the end of that time, if she still refused to marry +Demetrius, she would have to die. + +Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing +to do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at +a place beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would +come to her and marry her. But before she started, she told her +friend, Helena, what she was going to do. + +Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart long before his marriage with +Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous +people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia's fault that +Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. +She knew that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she +was, to the wood outside Athens, he would follow her, "and I can +follow him, and at least I shall see him," she said to herself. +So she went to him, and betrayed her friend's secret. + +Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the +other two had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most +woods are, if one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood +on this night were the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and +Titania. Now fairies are very wise people, but now and then they +can be quite as foolish as mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who +might have been as happy as the days were long, had thrown away +all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They never met without saying +disagreeable things to each other, and scolded each other so +dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for fear, would +creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + +So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through +in the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants +wandered through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers +kept state in another. And the cause of all this trouble was a +little Indian boy whom Titania had taken to be one of her followers. +Oberon wanted the child to follow him and be one of his fairy +knights; but the Queen would not give him up. + +On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the +fairies met. + +"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the King. + +"What! jealous, Oberon?" answered the Queen. "You spoil everything +with your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not +friends with him now." + +"It rests with you to make up the quarrel," said the King. + +"Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble +servant and suitor." + +"Set your mind at rest," said the Queen. "Your whole fairy kingdom +buys not that boy from me. Come, fairies." + +And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + +"Well, go your ways," said Oberon. "But I'll be even with you +before you leave this wood." + +Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit +of mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream +away, and get into the churn so that the butter would not come, +and turn the beer sour, and lead people out of their way on dark +nights and then laugh at them, and tumble people's stools from +under them when they were going to sit down, and upset their hot +ale over their chins when they were going to drink. + +"Now," said Oberon to this little sprite, "fetch me the flower +called Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower +laid on the eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they +wake, to love the first thing they see. I will put some of the +juice of that flower on my Titania's eyes, and when she wakes she +will love the first thing she sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, +or bull, or meddling monkey, or a busy ape." + +While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed +by poor Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and +reminded him of all his promises, and still he told her that he +did not and could not love her, and that his promises were nothing. +Oberon was sorry for poor Helena, and when Puck returned with +the flower, he bade him follow Demetrius and put some of the juice +on his eyes, so that he might love Helena when he woke and looked +on her, as much as she loved him. So Puck set off, and wandering +through the wood found, not Demetrius, but Lysander, on whose eyes +he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw not his own +Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking for +the cruel Demetrius; and directly lie saw her he loved her and +left his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. + +When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the +wood trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what lie +had done, and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and +set about looking for Demetrius, and having found him, put some +of the juice on his eyes. And the first thing Demetrius saw when +he woke was also Helena. So now Demetrius and Lysander were both +following her through the wood, and it was Hermia's turn to follow +her lover as Helena had done before. The end of it was that Helena +and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and Lysander went off +to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme to help +these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + +"These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the +night with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will +never find the other. When they are tired out, they will fall +asleep. Then drop this other herb on Lysander's eyes. That will +give him his old sight and his old love. Then each man will have +the lady who loves him, and they will all think that this has been +only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when this is done, all will +be well with them." + +So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen +asleep without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on +Lysander's eyes, and said:-- + + "When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill." + +Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild +thyme, oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. +There Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the +enameled skin of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the +juice on her eyes, saying:-- + + "What thou seest when thou wake, + Do it for thy true love take." + +Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw +was a stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out +into the wood to rehearse their play. This clown had met with +Puck, who had clapped an ass's head on his shoulders so that it +looked as if it grew there. Directly Titania woke and saw this +dreadful monster, she said, "What angel is this? Are you as wise +as you are beautiful?" + +"If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough +for me," said the foolish clown. + +"Do not desire to go out of the wood," said Titania. The spell of +the love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most +beautiful and delightful creature on all the earth. "I love you," +she went on. "Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend +on you." + +So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, +Moth, and Mustardseed. + +"You must attend this gentleman," said the Queen. "Feed him with +apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. +Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings +of painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes." + +"I will," said one of the fairies, and all the others said, "I +will." + +"Now, sit down with me," said the Queen to the clown, "and let me +stroke your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, +sleek head, and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy." + +"Where's Peaseblossom?" asked the clown with the ass's head. He +did not care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very +proud of having fairies to wait on him. "Ready," said +Peaseblossom. + +"Scratch my head, Peaseblossom," said the clown. "Where's Cobweb?" +"Ready," said Cobweb. + +"Kill me," said the clown, "the red bumble-bee on the top of the +thistle yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's +Mustardseed?" + +"Ready," said Mustardseed. + +"Oh, I want nothing," said the clown. "Only just help Cobweb to +scratch. I must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous +hairy about the face." + +"Would you like anything to eat?" said the fairy Queen. + +"I should like some good dry oats," said the clown--for his donkey's +head made him desire donkey's food--"and some hay to follow." + +"Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's +house?" asked the Queen. + +"I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas," said the +clown. "But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am +going to sleep." + +Then said the Queen, "And I will wind thee in my arms." + +And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing +kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey's head. + +And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her +to give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. +Then he took pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting +flower on her pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly +the donkey-headed clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish +she had been. + +Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to +finish his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and +violets. + +Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania +loved each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but +Helena, and Helena had never had any thought of anyone but +Demetrius. + +As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you +could meet in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + +So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; +and the fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very +wood at this very day. + + + + +THE TEMPEST + + + +Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who +lived among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to +his brother Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But +that trust was ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's +crown himself, and, to gain his ends, would have killed his brother +but for the love the people bore him. However, with the help of +Prospero's great enemy, Alonso, King of Naples, he managed to get +into his hands the dukedom with all its honor, power, and riches. +For they took Prospero to sea, and when they were far away from +land, forced him into a little boat with no tackle, mast, or sail. +In their cruelty and hatred they put his little daughter, Miranda +(not yet three years old), into the boat with him, and sailed +away, leaving them to their fate. + +But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful +master, Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, +but much could be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this +worthy lord, whose name was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat +some fresh water, provisions, and clothes, and what Prospero valued +most of all, some of his precious books. + +The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one +landed in safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years +had lain under the spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned +in the trunks of trees all the good spirits she found there. She +died shortly before Prospero was cast on those shores, but the +spirits, of whom Ariel was the chief, still remained in their +prisons. + +Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost +entirely to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed +his brother to manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set +free the imprisoned spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, +and they were more truly his subjects than his people in Milan +had been. For he treated them kindly as long as they did his +bidding, and he exercised his power over them wisely and well. +One creature alone he found it necessary to treat with harshness: +this was Caliban, the son of the wicked old witch, a hideous, +deformed monster, horrible to look on, and vicious and brutal in +all his habits. + +When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it +chanced that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and +Ferdinand, his son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and +their ship came near Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they +were there, raised by his art a great storm, so that even the +sailors on board gave themselves up for lost; and first among them +all Prince Ferdinand leaped into the sea, and, as his father +thought in his grief, was drowned. But Ariel brought him safe +ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although they were washed +overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of the island, +and the good ship herself, which they all thought had been wrecked, +lay at anchor in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such +wonders could Prospero and his spirits perform. + +While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero showed his daughter the +brave ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and told her that +it was filled with living human beings like themselves. She, in +pity of their lives, prayed him who had raised this storm to quell +it. Then her father bade her to have no fear, for he intended to +save every one of them. + +Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and +hers, and that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his +enemies, Antonio and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered +into his hands. + +When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, +for Ariel was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who +longed for his complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, +but on being threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had +undergone when Sycorax ruled in the land, and of the debt of +gratitude he owed to the master who had made those sufferings to +end, he ceased to complain, and promised faithfully to do whatever +Prospero might command. + +"Do so," said Prospero, "and in two days I will discharge thee." + +Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in +search of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, +hovered near him, singing the while-- + + "Come unto these yellow sands + And then take hands: + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + (The wild waves whist), + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!" + +And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to +a solemn air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears +to his eyes, for thus they ran-- + + "Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made. + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!" + +And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence +of Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero +desired. For Miranda, who had never, since she could first +remember, seen any human being save her father, looked on the +youthful prince with reverence in her eyes, and love in her secret +heart. + +"I might call him," she said, "a thing divine, for nothing natural +I ever saw so noble!" + +And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, +exclaimed-- + +"Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!" + +Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, +for scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he +vowed to make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, +though secretly delighted, pretended wrath. + +"You come here as a spy," he said to Ferdinand. "I will manacle +your neck and feet together, and you shall feed on fresh water +mussels, withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to drink. +Follow." + +"No," said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant +Prospero charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still +as stone; and Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy +on her lover. But he harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand +follow him to his cell. There he set the Prince to work, making +him remove thousands of heavy logs of timber and pile them up; +and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his toil all too well +repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + +She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he +would not let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of +his love, and she, hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his +wife. + +Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, +he gave his consent to their marriage. + +"Take her," he said, "she is thine own." + +In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island +were plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for +Ferdinand being dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to +the throne on Alonso's death. And they would have carried out +their wicked purpose while their victim was asleep, but that Ariel +woke him in good time. + +Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before +them, and just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them +amid thunder and lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately +the banquet disappeared. Then Ariel upbraided them with their +sins and vanished too. + +Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without +his cell, where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last +bitterly repenting them of their sins. + +Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, "And +then," said he, "I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever +plummet sound I'll drown my book." + +So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them +in his proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, +he forgave them and told them the story of his life since they +had cruelly committed him and his baby daughter to the mercy of +wind and waves. Alonso, who seemed sorriest of them all for his +past crimes, lamented the loss of his heir. But Prospero drew +back a curtain and showed them Ferdinand and Miranda playing at +chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet his loved son again, and +when he heard that the fair maid with whom Ferdinand was playing +was Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks had plighted +their troth, he said-- + +"Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart +that doth not wish you joy." + +So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next +day they all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were +to be married. Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; +and many were the rejoicings at the wedding. + +Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own +dukedom, where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful +subjects. He practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life +was happy, and not only because he had found his own again, but +chiefly because, when his bitterest foes who had done him deadly +wrong lay at his mercy, he took no vengeance on them, but nobly +forgave them. + +As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander +where he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + + "Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer, merrily: + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough." + + + + +AS YOU LIKE IT + + + +There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom +that should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. +His brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the +life of a bold forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in +merry England. + +The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, remained with Celia, +Frederick's daughter, and the two loved each other more than most +sisters. One day there was a wrestling match at Court, and Rosalind +and Celia went to see it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was +there, who had killed many men in contests of this kind. Orlando, +the young man he was to wrestle with, was so slender and youthful, +that Rosalind and Celia thought he would surely be killed, as +others had been; so they spoke to him, and asked him not to attempt +so dangerous an adventure; but the only effect of their words was +to make him wish more to come off well in the encounter, so as to +win praise from such sweet ladies. + +Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance +by his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, +until he saw Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or +died. But now the sight of the fair Rosalind gave him strength +and courage, so that he did marvelously, and at last, threw Charles +to such a tune, that the wrestler had to be carried off the ground. +Duke Frederick was pleased with his courage, and asked his name. + +"My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de +Boys," said the young man. + +Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend +to the banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose +son Orlando was, and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was +delighted to hear that this handsome young stranger was the son +of her father's old friend, and as they were going away, she turned +back more than once to say another kind word to the brave young +man. + +"Gentleman," she said, giving him a chain from her neck, "wear this +for me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means." + +Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the +handsome wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at +first sight. + +"Come, come," said Celia, "wrestle with thy affections." + +"Oh," answered Rosalind, "they take the part of a better wrestler +than myself. Look, here comes the Duke." + +"With his eyes full of anger," said Celia. + +"You must leave the Court at once," he said to Rosalind. "Why?" +she asked. + +"Never mind why," answered the Duke, "you are banished. If within +ten days you are found within twenty miles of my Court, you die." + +So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the +Forest of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, +and as it was rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the +taller, dressed up as a young countryman, and her cousin as a +country girl, and Rosalind said that she would be called Ganymede, +and Celia, Aliena. They were very tired when at last they came +to the Forest of Arden, and as they were sitting on the grass a +countryman passed that way, and Ganymede asked him if he could +get them food. He did so, and told them that a shepherd's flocks +and house were to be sold. They bought these and settled down as +shepherd and shepherdess in the forest. + +In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's +life, Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with +the rightful Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. +Now, Orlando could think of nothing but Rosalind, and he went +about the forest carving her name on trees, and writing love +sonnets and hanging them on the bushes, and there Rosalind and +Celia found them. One day Orlando met them, but he did not know +Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked the pretty shepherd +youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her he loved. + +"There is a foolish lover," said Rosalind, "who haunts these woods +and hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon +cure him of his folly." + +Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind +said--"If you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to +be Rosalind, and I will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, +as is the way of women, till I make you ashamed of your folly in +loving her." + +And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying +to her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and +she had the fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words +came to the right ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + +One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man +asleep on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, +waiting for the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that +lions will not prey on anything that is dead or sleeping. Then +Orlando looked at the man, and saw that it was his wicked brother, +Oliver, who had tried to take his life. He fought with the lioness +and killed her, and saved his brother's life. + +While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his +brother, whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild +beast at the risk of his own life. This made him repent of his +wickedness, and he begged Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth +they were dear brothers. The lioness had wounded Orlando's arm +so much, that he could not go on to see the shepherd, so he sent +his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + +Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and +Aliena was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, +that she fell in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard +of the danger Orlando had been in she fainted; and when she came +to herself, said truly enough, "I should have been a woman by +right." + +Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, "I +love Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and +marry her, and live here as a shepherd." + +"Let your wedding be to-morrow," said Orlando, "and I will ask the +Duke and his friends." + +When Orlando told Ganymede how his brother was to be married on +the morrow, he added: "Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into +happiness through another man's eyes." + +Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with +his voic--"If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when +your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her." + +Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and +Oliver, and Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + +Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, "If I bring in your +daughter Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?" "That I +would," said the Duke, "if I had all kingdoms to give with her." + +"And you say you will have her when I bring her?" she said to +Orlando. "That would I," he answered, "were I king of all +kingdoms." + +Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty +woman's clothes again, and after a while came back. + +She turned to her father--"I give myself to you, for I am yours." +"If there be truth in sight," he said, "you are my daughter." + +Then she said to Orlando, "I give myself to you, for I am yours." +"If there be truth in sight," he said, "you are my Rosalind." + +"I will have no father if you be not he," she said to the Duke, +and to Orlando, "I will have no husband if you be not he." + +So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and +they lived happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. +For Frederick had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of +his ways, and so gave back the dukedom of his brother, and himself +went into a monastery to pray for forgiveness. + +The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. +A shepherd and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, +when she was herself disguised as a shepherd, were married on the +same day, and all with such pretty feastings and merrymakings as +could be nowhere within four walls, but only in the beautiful +green wood. + + + + +THE WINTER'S TALE + + + +Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, +King of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only +separated when they reached man's estate and each had to go and +rule over his kingdom. After many years, when each was married +and had a son, Polixenes came to stay with Leontes in Sicily. + +Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took +it into his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes +better than she did him, her own husband. When once he had got +this into his head, nothing could put it out; and he ordered one +of his lords, Camillo, to put a poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo +tried to dissuade him from this wicked action, but finding he was +not to be moved, pretended to consent. He then told Polixenes +what was proposed against him, and they fled from the Court of +Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo lived +on as Polixenes' friend and counselor. + +Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the +throne, died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly +treated. + +While the Queen was in prison she had a little baby, and a friend +of hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in its best, and took +it to show the King, thinking that the sight of his helpless little +daughter would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, who had +never done him any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than +he deserved; but the King would not look at the baby, and ordered +Paulina's husband to take it away in a ship, and leave it in the +most desert and dreadful place he could find, which Paulina's +husband, very much against his will, was obliged to do. + +Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in +preferring Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought +of anyone except Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some +messengers to ask the god, Apollo, whether he was not right in +his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But he had not patience to wait +till they came back, and so it happened that they arrived in the +middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + +"Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, +Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, +if that which is lost be not found." + +Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. +The poor Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the +King saw how wicked and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina +and the ladies who were with the Queen to take her away, and try +to restore her. But Paulina came back in a few moments, and told +the King that Hermione was dead. + +Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his folly. His Queen was +dead, and the little daughter who might have been a comfort to +him he had sent away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life +had nothing left for him now. He gave himself up to his grief, +and passed in any sad years in prayer and remorse. + +The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very +kingdom where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went +home to tell Leontes where he had left the baby; for as he was +going back to the ship, he met a bear and was torn to pieces. So +there was an end of him. + +But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She +was richly dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was +pinned to her cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that +she came of noble parents. + +The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby +to his wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had +no more teaching than a shepherd's child generally has, but she +inherited from her royal mother many graces and charms, so that +she was quite different from the other maidens in the village +where she lived. + +One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was +bunting near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up +to a charming woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not +telling him that he was the Prince, but saying that his name was +Doricles, and that he was a private gentleman; and then, being +deeply in love with the pretty Perdita, he came almost daily to +see her. + +The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly +every day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found +out that the heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, +the pretty shepherd girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this +was true, disguised himself, and went with the faithful Camillo, +in disguise too, to the old shepherd's house. They arrived at +the feast of sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, they were made +very welcome. There was dancing going on, and a peddler was +selling ribbons and laces and gloves, which the young men bought +for their sweethearts. + +Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay +scene, but sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the +charming manners and great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that +she was the daughter of his old friend, Leontes. He said to +Camillo-- + +"This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green +sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater +than herself--too noble for this place." + +And Camillo answered, "In truth she is the Queen of curds and +cream." + +But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon +the strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, +the King made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that +if ever she saw Florizel again, he would kill her and her old +father, the shepherd; and with that he left them. But Camillo +remained behind, for he was charmed with Perdita, and wished to +befriend her. + +Camillo had long known how sorry Leontes was for that foolish +madness of his, and he longed to go iback to Sicily to see his +old master. He now proposed that the young people should go there +and claim the protection of Leontes. So they went, and the shepherd +went with them, taking Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and +the paper he had found pinned to her cloak. + +Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to +Prince Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how +much she was like the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + +"Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not +cruelly sent her from me." + +When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, +who had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that +Perdita, the child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, +and when he told his tale and showed the jewels and the paper, +the King perceived that Perdita was indeed his long-lost child. +He welcomed her with joy, and rewarded the good shepherd. + +Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with +Perdita, but when he found that she was the daughter of his old +friend, he was only too glad to give his consent. + +Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, +who should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's +happiness, was dead through his unkindness, and he could say +nothing for a long time but-- + +"Oh, thy mother! thy mother!" and ask forgiveness of the King of +Bohemia, and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince +Florizel, and then thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + +Then Paulina, who had been high all these years in the King's favor, +because of her kindness to the dead Queen Hermione, said--"I have +a statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a piece many +years in doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, Giulio +Romano. I keep it in a private house apart, and there, ever since +you lost your Queen, I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it +please your Majesty to go and see the statue?" + +So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo +and their attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a +heavy purple curtain screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with +her hand on the curtain, said-- + +"She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her +dead likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that +the hand of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. +But here it is--behold, and say, 'tis well." + +And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. +The King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead +wife, but said nothing. + +"I like your silence," said Paulina; "it the more shows off your +wonder. But speak, is it not like her?" + +"It is almost herself," said the King, "and yet, Paulina, Hermione +was not so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems." + +"Oh, not by much," said Polixenes. + +"Al," said Paulina, "that is the cleverness of the carver, who +shows her to us as she would have been had she lived till now." + +And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes +away. + +"If I had known," said Paulina, "that this poor image would so have +stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you." + +But he only answered, "Do not draw the curtain." + +"No, you must not look any longer," said Paulina, "or you will +think it moves." + +"Let be! let be!" said the King. "Would you not think it +breathed?" + +"I will draw the curtain," said Paulina; " you will think it lives +presently." + +"Ah, sweet Paulina," said Leontes, "make me to think so twenty +years together." + +"If you can bear it," said Paulina, "I can make the statue move, +make it come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think +it was by wicked magic." + +"Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on," said the +King. + +And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved +from its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round +the King's neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, +for this was no statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. +She had lived hidden, by Paulina's kindness, all these years, +and would not discover herself to her husband, though she knew he +had repented, because she could not quite forgive him till she +knew what had become of her little baby. + +Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, +and it was like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together +once more. + +Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + +To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the +moment when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his +true love around him once again. + + + + +KING LEAR + + + +King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his +kingdom, and wished only to end his days quietly near his three +daughters. Two of his daughters were married to the Dukes of +Albany and Cornwall; and the Duke of Burgundy and the King of +France were both suitors for the hand of Cordelia, his youngest +daughter. + +Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he +proposed to divide his kingdom between them. "But first," said +he, "I should like to know much you love me." + +Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her +father at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she +loved him dearer than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, +grace, health, beauty, and honor. + +"I love you as much as my sister and more," professed Regan, "since +I care for nothing but my father's love." + +Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to +his youngest daughter, Cordelia. "Now, our joy, though last not +least," he said, "the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. +What can you say?" + +"Nothing, my lord," answered Cordelia. + +"Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again," said the King. + +And Cordelia answered, "I love your Majesty according to my duty--no +more, no less." + +And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which +her sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right +sense of duty to their old father. + +"I am your daughter," she went on, "and you have brought me up and +loved me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, +obey you, love you, and most honor you." + +Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished her to make more extravagant +professions of love than her sisters. "Go," he said, "be for ever +a stranger to my heart and me." + +The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, +tried to say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. +He divided the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them +that he should only keep a hundred knights at arms, and would live +with his daughters by turns. + +When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share +of the kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of +France was wiser, and said, "Thy dowerless daughter, King, is +Queen of us--of ours, and our fair France." + +"Take her, take her," said the King; "for I will never see that +face of hers again." + +So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having +ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The +King now went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got +everything from her father that he had to give, and now began to +grudge even the hundred knights that he had reserved for himself. +She was harsh and undutiful to him, and her servants either +refused to obey his orders or pretended that they did not hear +them. + +Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would +go into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise +of a servingman and took service with the King. The King had now +two friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, +and his Fool, who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father +plainly that his knights only served to fill her Court with riot +and feasting; and so she begged him only to keep a few old men +about him such as himself. + +"My train are men who know all parts of duty," said Lear. "Goneril, +I will not trouble you further--yet I have left another +daughter." + +And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for +the castle of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister +in professions of attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her +in undutiful conduct, saying that fifty knights were too many to +wait on him, and Goneril (who had hurried thither to prevent Regan +showing any kindness to the old King) said five were too many, +since her servants could wait on him. + +Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him +away, he left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered +about the heath half mad with misery, and with no companion but +the poor Fool. But presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, +met him, and at last persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little +hovel. At daybreak the Earl of Kent removed his royal master to +Dover, and hurried to the Court of France to tell Cordelia what +had happened. + +Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. +Here she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing +a crown of nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and +clothed him, and Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + +"You must bear with me," said Lear; "forget and forgive. I am old +and foolish." + +And now he knew at last which of his children it was that had loved +him best, and who was worthy of his love. + +Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, +and were successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into +prison. Then Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a +good man, and had not known how wicked his wife was, heard the +truth of the whole story; and when Goneril found that her husband +knew her for the wicked woman she was, she killed herself, having +a little time before given a deadly poison to her sister, Regan, +out of a spirit of jealousy. + +But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, +and though the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too +late. The old King came staggering into the tent of the Duke of +Albany, carrying the body of his dear daughter Cordelia, in his +arms. + +And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell +with her still in his arms, and died. + + + + +TWELFTH NIGHT + + + +Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful +Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she +disdained his suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a +messenger from the Duke, bidding him tell his master that for +seven years she would not let the very air behold her face, but +that, like a nun, she would walk veiled; and all this for the sake +of a dead brother's love, which she would keep fresh and lasting +in her sad remembrance. + +The Duke longed for someone to whom he could tell his sorrow, and +repeat over and over again the story of his love. And chance +brought him such a companion. For about this time a goodly ship +was wrecked on the Illyrian coast, and among those who reached +land in safety were the captain and a fair young maid, named Viola. +But she was little grateful for being rescued from the perils of +the sea, since she feared that her twin brother was drowned, +Sebastian, as dear to her as the heart in her bosom, and so like +her that, but for the difference in their manner of dress, one +could hardly be told from the other. The captain, for her comfort, +told her that he had seen her brother bind himself "to a strong +mast that lived upon the sea," and that thus there was hope that +he might be saved. + +Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the +young Duke Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as +in his name, she decided to disguise herself in male attire, and +seek for employment with him as a page. + +In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen +to the story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very +truly with him, but soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it +occurred to Orsino that his hopeless love-suit might prosper better +if he sent this pretty lad to woo Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly +went on this errand, but when she came to the house, Malvolio, +Olivia's steward, a vain, officious man, sick, as his mistress +told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger admittance. + +Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any +denial, and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, +hearing how her instructions were defied and curious to see this +daring youth, said, "We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy." + +When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been +sent away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this +bold messenger from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she +fell in love with the supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, +Olivia longed to send some love-token after him. So, calling +Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + +"He left this ring behind him," she said, taking one from her +finger. "Tell him I will none of it." + +Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew +perfectly well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a +woman's quickness that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to +the Duke, very sad at heart for her lover, and for Olivia, and +for herself. + +It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to +ease the pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while +Cesario stood by his side. + +"Ah," said the Duke to his page that night, "you too have been in +love." + +"A little," answered Viola. + +"What kind of woman is it?" he asked. + +"Of your complexion," she answered. + +"What years, i' faith?" was his next question. + +To this came the pretty answer, "About your years, my lord." + +"Too old, by Heaven!" cried the Duke. "Let still the woman take +an elder than herself." + +And Viola very meekly said, "I think it well, my lord." + +By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to +plead his love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + +"If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?" + +"Ah! that cannot be," said the Duke. + +"But I know," Viola went on, "what love woman may have for a man. +My father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be," she added +blushing, "perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship." + +"And what is her history?" he asked. + +"A blank, my lord," Viola answered. "She never told her love, but +let concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: +she pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she +sat, like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this +love indeed?" + +"But died thy sister of her love, my boy?" the Duke asked; and +Viola, who had all the time been telling her own love for him in +this pretty fashion, said-- + +"I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, +shall I go to the lady?" + +"To her in haste," said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the +story, "and give her this jewel." + +So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her +love, and openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that +Viola left her hastily, saying-- + +"Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you." + +But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would +feel for other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of +her love, sent a messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once +more, Cesario had no heart to refuse the request. + +But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused +the jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover +of hers, who at that time was staying at her house with her merry +old uncle Sir Toby. This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical +joke, and knowing Sir Andrew to be an arrant coward, he thought +that if he could bring off a duel between him and Cesario, there +would be rare sport indeed. So he induced Sir Andrew to send a +challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The poor page, in +great terror, said-- + +"I will return again to the house, I am no fighter." + +"Back you shall not to the house," said Sir Toby, "unless you fight +me first." + +And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best +to await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his +appearance, in a great fright, if the truth had been known, she +tremblingly drew her sword, and Sir Andrew in like fear followed +her example. Happily for them both, at this moment some officers +of the Court came on the scene, and stopped the intended duel. +Viola gladly made off with what speed she might, while Sir Toby +called after her-- + +"A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!" + +Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all +the dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where +he determined to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way +thither he passed Olivia's house just as Viola had left it in such +a hurry, and whom should he meet but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. +Sir Andrew, mistaking Sebastian for the cowardly Cesario, took +his courage in both hands, and walking up to him struck him, +saying, "There's for you." + +"Why, there's for you; and there, and there!" said Sebastian, +bitting back a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir +Toby came to the rescue of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore +himself free from Sir Toby's clutches, and drawing his sword would +have fought them both, but that Olivia herself, having heard of +the quarrel, came running in, and with many reproaches sent Sir +Toby and his friend away. Then turning to Sebastian, whom she +too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with many a pretty +speech to come into the house with her. + +Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, +readily consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, +they were married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, +or Sebastian was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + +Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited +her himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before +her door, and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached +him for leaving her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was +as fat and wholesome to her as howling after music. + +"Still so cruel?" said Orsino. + +"Still so constant," she answered. + +Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged +on her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. "Come, +boy," he said to the page. + +And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, "I, to do you +rest, a thousand deaths would die." + +A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, "Cesario, +husband, stay!" + +"Her husband?" asked the Duke angrily. + +"No, my lord, not I," said Viola. + +"Call forth the holy father," cried Olivia. + +And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, +declared Cesario to be the bridegroom. + +"O thou dissembling cub!" the Duke exclaimed. "Farewell, and take +her, but go where thou and I henceforth may never meet." + +At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining +that Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + +"I never hurt you," said Viola, very positively; "you drew your +sword on me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not." + +Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all +their thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian +came in. + +"I am sorry, madam," he said to his wife, "I have hurt your kinsman. +Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late +ago." + +"One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!" cried the Duke, +looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + +"An apple cleft in two," said one who knew Sebastian, "is not more +twin than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?" + +"I never had a brother," said Sebastian. "I had a sister, whom +the blind waves and surges have devoured." "Were you a woman," +he said to Viola, "I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, +and say, 'Thrice welcome, drowned Viola!'" + +Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that +she was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the +pity that is akin to love. + +"Boy," he said, "thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never +shouldst love woman like to me." + +"And all those sayings will I overswear," Viola replied, "and all +those swearings keep true." + +"Give me thy hand," Orsino cried in gladness. "Thou shalt be my +wife, and my fancy's queen." + +Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian +a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and +loving wife. + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + +In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious +storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + +It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, +had gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land +whence they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after +the fatigues of war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and +in his suite were his stepbrother Don John and two young Italian +lords, Benedick and Claudio. + +Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a +bachelor. Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina +than he fell in love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor +of Messina. + +One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender +in a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation +floated through the open window. + +"Give me your candid opinion of Hero," Claudio, asked, and Borachio +settled himself for comfortable listening. + +"Too short and brown for praise," was Benedick's reply; "but alter +her color or height, and you spoil her." + +"In my eyes she is the sweetest of women," said Claudio. + +"Not in mine," retorted Benedick, "and I have no need for glasses. +She is like the last day of December compared with the first of +May if you set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady +Beatrice is a fury." + +Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty +and severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. +She was wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and +could not therefore be dull. + +Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and +said good-humoredly, "Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?" + +"I am longing," answered Benedick, "for your Grace to command me +to tell." + +"I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me," said Don Pedro, +falling in with his humor. + +"I can be as dumb as a mute," apologized Benedick to Claudio, "but +his Grace commands my speech." To Don Pedro he said, "Claudio is +in love with Hero, Leonato's short daughter." + +Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. +When Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, "Be steadfast in +your love for Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her +father gives a masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and +tell her how Claudio loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go +to her father and ask his consent to your union." + +Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with +a Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a +prince to plead for you. + +Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he +had an enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don +Pedro's stepbrother Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because +Don Pedro preferred him to Don John. + +It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation +which he had overheard. + +"I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself," said Don John +when Borachio ceased speaking. + +On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending +he was Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + +They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, +"Signor Benedick, I believe?" "The same," fibbed Claudio. + +"I should be much obliged then," said Don John, "if you would use +your influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. +She is beneath him in rank." + +"How do you know he loves her?" inquired Claudio. + +"I heard him swear his affection," was the reply, and Borachio +chimed in with, "So did I too." + +Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his +Prince had betrayed him. "Farewell, Hero," he muttered; "I was +a fool to trust to an agent." + +Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a +brisk exchange of opinions. + +"Did Benedick ever make you laugh?" asked she. + +"Who is Benedick?" he inquired. + +"A Prince's jester," replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply +that "I would not marry her," he declared afterwards, "if her +estate were the Garden of Eden." + +But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice +nor Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the +letter, and brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, +by appearing before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, "Claudio, +when would you like to go to church?" + +"To-morrow," was the prompt answer. "Time goes on crutches till +I marry Hero." + +"Give her a week, my dear son," said Leonato, and Claudio's heart +thumped with joy. + +"And now," said the amiable Don Pedro, "we must find a wife for +Signor Benedick. It is a task for Hercules." + +"I will help you," said Leonato, "if I have to sit up ten nights." + +Then Hero spoke. "I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good +husband for Beatrice." + +Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given +Claudio a lesson for nothing. + +Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which +he was confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that +Hero was a fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John +agreed to this plan of hate. + +Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. +"If," he said to Leonato, "we pretend, when Beatrice is near +enough to overhear us, that Benedick is pining for her love, she +will pity him, see his good qualities, and love him. And if, when +Benedick thinks we don't know he is listening, we say how sad it +is that the beautiful Beatrice should be in love with a heartless +scoffer like Benedick, he will certainly be on his knees before +her in a week or less." + +So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio +sat down outside it with Leonato, and said, "Your daughter told +me something about a letter she wrote." + +"Letter!" exclaimed Leonato. "She will get up twenty times in the +night and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and +saw the words 'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then +Beatrice tore it up." + +"Hero told me," said Claudio, "that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'" + +Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which +he was vain enough to believe. "She is fair and good," he said +to himself. "I must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. +People will laugh, of course; but their paper bullets will do me +no harm." + +At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, "Against +my will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready." + +"Fair Beatrice, I thank you," said Benedick. + +"I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me," +was the rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + +But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed +out of her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + +Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, +took no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid +Margaret one day, "Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice +that Ursula and I are talking about her in the orchard." + +Having said this, she felt as sure that Beatrice would overhear +what was meant for her ears as if she had made an appointment with +her cousin. + +In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, +and Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on +her errand. + +"But are you sure," asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, +"that Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?" + +"So say the Prince and my betrothed," replied Hero, "and they wished +me to tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'" + +"Why did you say that?" + +"Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with +disdain and scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not +like to see her making game of poor Benedick's love. I would +rather see Benedick waste away like a covered fire." + +"I don't agree with you," said Ursula. "I think your cousin is +too clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick." "He is the +one man in Italy, except Claudio," said Hero. + +The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, +stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, "Poor dear +Benedick, be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart +of mine." + +We now return to the plan of hate. + +The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John +entered a room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, +and asked Claudio if he intended to be married to-morrow. + +"You know he does!" said Don Pedro. + +"He may know differently," said Don John, "when he has seen what +I will show him if he will follow me." + +They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out +of Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + +Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, "I will shame her for +it to-morrow!" Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was +not Hero; she was Margaret. + +Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted +the garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + +The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in +the street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and +the giver, and told what he had done. + +A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid +a thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He +therefore arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of +the night in prison. + +Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were +at church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there +in her wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank +and shining eyes. + +The priest was Friar Francis. + +Turning to Claudio, he said, "You come hither, my lord, to marry +this lady?" "No!" contradicted Claudio. + +Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. "You should have +said, Friar," said he, "'You come to be married to her.'" + +Friar Francis turned to Hero. "Lady," he said, "you come hither +to be married to this Count?" "I do," replied Hero. + +"If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge +you to utter it," said the Friar. + +"Do you know of any, Hero?" asked Claudio. "None," said she. + +"Know you of any, Count?" demanded the Friar. "I dare reply for +him, 'None,'" said Leonato. + +Claudio exclaimed bitterly, "O! what will not men dare say! Father," +he continued, "will you give me your daughter?" "As freely," +replied Leonato, "as God gave her to me." + +"And what can I give you," asked Claudio, "which is worthy of this +gift?" "Nothing," said Don Pedro, "unless you give the gift back +to the giver." + +"Sweet Prince, you teach me," said Claudio. "There, Leonato, take +her back." + +These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, +Don Pedro and Don John. + +The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long +as she could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the +church, except her father, who was befooled by the accusations +against her, and cried, "Hence from her! Let her die!" + +But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed +the soul. "She is innocent," he said; "a thousand signs have told +me so." + +Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, +knew not what to think, and the Friar said, "They have left her +as one dead with shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the +truth is declared, and slander turns to remorse." + +"The Friar advises well," said Benedick. Then Hero was led away +into a retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the +church. + +Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. "Surely I +do believe your fair cousin is wronged," he said. She still wept. + +"Is it not strange," asked Benedick, gently, "that I love nothing +in the world as well as you?" + +"It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you," +said Beatrice, "but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin." + +"Tell me what to do for her," said Benedick. "Kill Claudio." + +"Ha! not for the wide world," said Benedick. "Your refusal kills +me," said Beatrice. "Farewell." + +"Enough! I will challenge him," cried Benedick. + +During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they +were examined by a constable called Dogberry. + +The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said +that he had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against +Hero. + +Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless +now thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part +of bereaved father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called +on him in a friendly way, he said to the Italian, "You have +slandered my child to death, and I challenge you to combat." + +"I cannot fight an old man," said Claudio. + +"You could kill a girl," sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + +Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were +feeling scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + +"The old man," said Claudio, "was like to have snapped my nose +off." + +"You are a villain!" said Benedick, shortly. "Fight me when and +with what weapon you please, or I call you a coward." + +Claudio was astounded, but said, "I'll meet you. Nobody shall say +I can't carve a calf's head." + +Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive +officials, the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared +his mind for justice. + +The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + +"What offence," said Don Pedro, "are these men charged with?" + +Borachio thought the moment a happy one for making a clean breast +of it. He laid the whole blame on Don John, who had disappeared. +"The lady Hero being dead," he said, "I desire nothing but the +reward of a murderer." + +Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + +Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, "This slave makes +clear your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + +"Leonato," said Don Pedro, humbly, "I am ready for any penance you +may impose." + +"I ask you both, then," said Leonato, "to proclaim my daughter's +innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. +As for you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter +so like Hero that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my +vengeful feelings die." + +"Noble sir," said Claudio, "I am yours." Claudio then went to his +room and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don +Pedro and his attendants, he sang it before the monument of +Leonato's family. When he had ended he said, "Good night, Hero. +Yearly will I do this." + +He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made +ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet +her in Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment. + +He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and +several masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, +and Benedick were present. + +Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + +"Sweet," said the young man, "let me see your face." + +"Swear first to marry her," said Leonato. + +"Give me your hand," said Claudio to the lady; "before this holy +friar I swear to marry you if you will be my wife." + +"Alive I was your wife," said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + +"Another Hero!" exclaimed Claudio. + +"Hero died," explained Leonato, "only while slander lived." + +The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick +interrupted him with, "Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is +Beatrice?" + +Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, "You love me, don't +you?" + +"Only moderately," was the reply. "Do you love me?" + +"Moderately," answered Benedick. + +"I was told you were well-nigh dead for me," remarked Beatrice. + +"Of you I was told the same," said Benedick. + +"Here's your own hand in evidence of your love," said Claudio, +producing a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his +sweetheart. "And here," said Hero, "is a tribute to Benedick, +which I picked out of the ' pocket of Beatrice." + +"A miracle!" exclaimed Benedick. "Our hands are against our hearts! +Come, I will marry you, Beatrice." + +"You shall be my husband to save your life," was the rejoinder. + +Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after +he had married Claudio and Hero. + +"How is Benedick the married man?" asked Don Pedro. + +"Too happy to be made unhappy," replied Benedick. "Crack what +jokes you will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you +through the body, but as you are now my kinsman, live whole and +love my cousin." + +"My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day," said +Claudio; but, "Come, come, let's dance," said Benedick. + +And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John +was able to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge +is not sweet against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named +Montagu and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were +as sensible, in most things, as other rich people. But in one +thing they were extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel +between the two families, and instead of making it up like reasonable +folks, they made a sort of pet of their quarrel, and would not +let it die out. So that a Montagu wouldn't speak to a Capulet if +he met one in the street--nor a Capulet to a Montagu--or if they +did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant things, which often +ended in a fight. And their relations and servants were just as +foolish, so that street fights and duels and uncomfortablenesses +of that kind were always growing out of the Montagu-and-Capulet +quarrel. + +Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand +supper and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone +might come to it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was +a young Montagu named Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, +because Rosaline, the lady he loved, had been asked. This lady +had never been at all kind to him, and he had no reason to love +her; but the fact was that he wanted to love somebody, and as he +hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love the wrong one. +So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends Mercutio +and Benvolio. + +Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young +Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their +velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars, +and the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones +of price set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, +and though he wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone +could see by his mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, +that he was twelve times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + +Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable +that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that +Rosaline whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this +other fair lady, as she moved in the dance in her white satin and +pearls, and all the world seemed vain and worthless to him compared +with her. And he was saying this, or something like it, when +Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing his voice, knew him to be +Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at once to his uncle, and +told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the feast; but old +Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to any man +under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young +man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + +In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her +in sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her +mother sent for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on +whom he had set his heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord +Capulet, his sworn foe. So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but +loving her none the less. + +Then Juliet said to her nurse: + +"Who is that gentleman that would not dance?" + +"His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great +enemy," answered the nurse. + +Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over +the beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And +Romeo was hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could +not bear to go right away without trying to see her again. So +she--not knowing him to be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, +and told the quiet garden how she loved Romeo. + +And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he +looked up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the +blossoming creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked +and listened, he felt as though he had been carried away in a +dream, and set down by some magician in that beautiful and enchanted +garden. + +"Ah--why are you called Romeo?" said Juliet. "Since I love you, +what does it matter what you are called?" + +"Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never +will be Romeo," he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight +from the shade of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + +She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo +himself, and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in +the garden below and she leaning from the window, they spoke long +together, each one trying to find the sweetest words in the world, +to make that pleasant talk that lovers use. And the tale of all +they said, and the sweet music their voices made together, is all +set down in a golden book, where you children may read it for +yourselves some day. + +And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each +other and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed +as though they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly +knew how to part. + +"I will send to you to-morrow," said Juliet. + +And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + +Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. +Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in +a dream. + +The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a +priest, and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him +to Juliet without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest +consented to do. + +So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what +he purposed to do, the old woman took back a a message that all +was well, and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and +Romeo on the next morning. + +The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their +marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old +quarrel between the Capulets and the Montagues. + +And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, +because he thought that when they were once married their parents +might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to +the old quarrel. + +So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar +Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo +promised to come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got +ready a rope-ladder to let down from the window, so that Romeo +could climb up and talk to his dear wife quietly and alone. + +But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + +Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to +the Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and +Benvolio, in the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to +fight. Romeo had no wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but +Mercutio drew his sword, and he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio +was killed. When Romeo saw that this friend was dead, he forgot +everything except anger at the man who had killed him, and he and +Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + +So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's +cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her +young husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder +among the flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a +sad one, and they parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, +because they could not know when they should meet again. + +Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was +married, wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so +angry when she refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence +what she should do. He advised her to pretend to consent, and +then he said: + +"I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for +two days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury +you, and not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking +you are dead, and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to +take care of you. Will you do this, or are you afraid?" + +"I will do it; talk not to me of fear!" said Juliet. And she went +home and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken +out and told her father the truth . . . well, then this would +have been a different story. + +Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set +about inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. +Everyone stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, +and very little time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to +get Juliet married because he saw she was very unhappy. Of course +she was really fretting about her husband Romeo, but her father +thought she was grieving for the death of her cousin Tybalt, and +he thought marriage would give her something else to think about. + +Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress +her for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse +cried out suddenly-- + +"Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever +I was born!" + +Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, +the bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, +and all their weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying +that day instead of a marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent +a messenger to Mantua with a letter to Romeo telling him of all +these things; and all would have been well, only the messenger +was delayed, and could not go. + +But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of +the marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her +funeral, and hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife +was dead and lying in the grave. + +"Is it so?" cried Romeo, heart-broken. "Then I will lie by Juliet's +side to-night." + +And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. +He hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a +grave, but a vault. He broke open the door, and was just going +down the stone steps that led to the vault where all the dead +Capulets lay, when he heard a voice bebind him calling on him to +stop. + +It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very +day. + +"How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, +you vile Montagu?" cried Paris. + +Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + +"You were told," said Paris, "that if you returned to Verona you +must die." + +"I must indeed," said Romeo. "I came here for nothing else. Good, +gentle youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love +you better than myself--go--leave me here--" + +Then Paris said, "I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon," and +Romeo, in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, +and Paris was killed. + +As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + +"Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me +with Juliet!" + +And Romeo said, "In faith I will." + +And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear +Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and +held her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that +she was dead, while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer +to the time of her awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died +beside his sweetheart and wife. + +Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had +happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her +husband and her friend both dead beside her. + +The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, +and Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left +alone. She saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how +all had happened, and since no poison was left for her, she drew +her Romeo's dagger and thrust it through her heart--and so, falling +with her head on her Romeo's breast, she died. And here ends the +story of these faithful and most unhappy lovers. + + * * * * * * * + +And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had +befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the +mischief their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of +it, and over the bodies of their dead children they clasped hands +at last, in friendship and forgiveness. + + + + +PERICLES + + + +Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an +enemy of Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and +so great was the danger in which he stood that, on the advice of +his trusty counselor, Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel +about the world for a time. He came to this decision despite the +fact that, by the death of his father, he was now King of Tyre. +So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing Helicanus Regent during his +absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving his kingdom was soon +made clear. + +Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from +Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. +The faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this +wicked lord, and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the +King of the danger which threatened him. + +The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, +feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. +But a dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the +good vessel was wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was +saved. Bruised and wet and faint, he was flung upon the cruel +rocks on the coast of Pentapolis, the country of the good King +Simonides. Worn out as he was, he looked for nothing but death, +and that speedily. But some fishermen, coming down to the beach, +found him there, and gave him clothes and bade him be of good cheer. + +"Thou shalt come home with me," said one of them, "and we will have +flesh for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings +and flapjacks, and thou shalt be welcome." + +They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were +going to the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love +of his daughter, the beautiful Princess Thaisa + +"Did but my fortunes equal my desires," said Pericles, "I'd wish +to make one there." + +As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and +it dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they +hauled it in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; +and looking at it, he blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he +saw that it was his own, which had been given to him by his dead +father. He begged the fishermen to let him have it that he might +go to Court and take part in the tournament, promising that if +ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would reward them well. The +fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully equipped, Pericles +set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + +In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he +won the wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed +on his brows. Then at her father's command she asked him who he +was, and whence he came; and he answered that he was a knight of +Tyre, by name Pericles, but he did not tell her that he was the +King of that country, for he knew that if once his whereabouts +became known to Antiochus, his life would not be worth a pin's +purchase. + +Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased +with his courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted +his daughter to have her own way, when she told him she would +marry the stranger knight or die. + +Thus Pericles became the husband of the fair lady for whose sake +he had striven with the knights who came in all their bravery to +joust and tourney for her love. + +Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in +Tyre, hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend +the vacant throne. But they could only get him to promise that +he would become their King, if at the end of a year Pericles did +not come back. Moreover, he sent forth messengers far and wide +in search of the missing Pericles. + +Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King +there, told him how discontented his people were at his long +absence, and that, Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to +hinder him from returning to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his +wife and father-in-law who he really was, and they and all the +subjects of Simonides greatly rejoiced to know that the gallant +husband of Thaisa was a King in his own right. So Pericles set +sail with his dear wife for his native land. But once more the +sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke out, and +while it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that a +little daughter was born to him. This news would have made his +heart glad indeed, but that the servant went on to add that his +wife--his dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + +While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, +the sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be +thrown overboard, for they believed that the storm would never +cease so long as a dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa +was laid in a big chest with spices and jewels, and a scroll on +which the sorrowful King wrote these lines: + + "Here I give to understand + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + I, King Pericles, have lost + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a King; + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!" + +Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by +and by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the +servants of a lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be +opened, and when he saw how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if +she were dead, and took immediate steps to restore her. Then a +great wonder happened, for she, who had been thrown into the sea +as dead, came back to life. But feeling sure that she would never +see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the world, and became +a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + +While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with +his little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been +born at sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the +Governor of Tarsus, the King sailed for his own dominions. + +Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and +wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more +accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined +to take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza +ordered one of her servants to take her away and kill her. This +villain would have done so, but that he was interrupted by some +pirates who came in and carried Marina off to sea with them, and +took her to Mitylene, where they sold her as a slave. Yet such +was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, that she soon became +honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, fell deep in +love with her, and would have married her, but that he thought +she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in +his high position. + +The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina +was really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and +showed it to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he +came to see his much-loved child. When he heard that she was +dead, his grief was terrible to see. He set sail once more, and +putting on sackcloth, vowed never to wash his face or cut his hair +again. There was a pavilion erected on deck, and there he lay +alone, and for three months he spoke word to none. + +At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, +and Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the +vessel came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and +silence, he bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could +rouse the King from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her +utmost to persuade the King to speak, promising whatever reward +she would, if she succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending +the rest away, she sat and sang to her poor grief-laden father, +yet, sweet as was her voice, he made no sign. So presently she +spoke to him, saying that her grief might equal his, for, though +she was a slave, she came from ancestors that stood equal to mighty +kings. + +Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he +looked up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like +she was to his lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in +his heart, he bade her tell her story. + +Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she +was and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles +knew that this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again +and again, crying that his great seas of joy drowned him with +their sweetness. "Give me my robes," he said: "O Heaven, bless +my girl!" + +Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound +of heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, +in a vision. + +"Go," she said to him, "to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden +priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy +wife." + +Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. +Hardly had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, +"You are--you are--O royal Pericles!" fell fainting to the ground, +and presently recovering, she spoke again to him, "O my lord, are +you not Pericles?" "The voice of dead Thaisa!" exclaimed the King +in wonder. "That Thaisa am I," she said, and looking at her he +saw that she spoke the very truth. + +Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found +happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot +the pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and +not only in being restored to her dear parents; for she married +Lysimachus, and became a princess in the land where she had been +sold as a slave. + + + + +HAMLET + + + +Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father +and mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named +Ophelia. Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + +While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. +Young Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent +had stung the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had +loved his father so tenderly that you may judge what he felt when +he found that the Queen, before yet the King had been laid in the +ground a month, had determined to marry again--and to marry the +dead King's brother. + +Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + +"It is not only the black I wear on my body," he said, "that proves +my loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His +son at least remembers him, and grieves still." + +Then said Claudius the King's brother, "This grief is unreasonable. +Of course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--" + +"Ah," said Hamlet, bitterly, "I cannot in one little month forget +those I love." + +With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their +wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to +them both. + +And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what +he ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the +snake-bite. It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius +had killed the King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. +Yet he had no proof, and could not accuse Claudius. + +And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of +his, from Wittenberg. + +"What brought you here?" asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his +friend kindly. + +"I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral." + +"I think it was to see my mother's wedding," said Hamlet, bitterly. +"My father! We shall not look upon his like again." + +"My lord," answered Horatio, "I think I saw him yesternight." + +Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with +two gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the +battlements. Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, +the ghost of the King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, +appeared on the battlements in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was +a brave youth. Instead of running away from the ghost he spoke +to it--and when it beckoned him he followed it to a quiet place, +and there the ghost told him that what he had suspected was true. +The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good brother the King, +by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his orchard in the +afternoon. + +"And you," said the ghost, "must avenge this cruel murder-- on my +wicked brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have +loved her, and she is your mother. Remember me." + +Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + +"Now," said Hamlet, "there is nothing left but revenge. Remember +thee--I will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let +all go--and your commands alone live on my brain." + +So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret +of the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with +mingled dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his +murdered father. + +The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel +almost mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was +not himself, he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge +under a pretended madness in other matters. + +And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given +gifts, and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly +to her, that she could not but think him mad. For she loved him +so that she could not believe he would be as cruel as this, unless +he were quite mad. So she told her father, and showed him a pretty +letter from Hamlet. And in the letter was much folly, and this +pretty verse-- + + "Doubt that the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love." + +And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's +supposed madness was love. + +Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's +ghost--and yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another +man, even his father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, +after all, the ghost spoke truly. + +Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered +them to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, +this play was the story of a man who had been murdered in his +garden by a near relation, who afterwards married the dead man's +wife. + +You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his +throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and +saw, acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself +done. And when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison +into the ear of the sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly +rose, and staggered from the room--the Queen and others +following. + +Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + +"Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done +this murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a +play." + +Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him +for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and +Claudius, wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius +to hide himself behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as +they talked, the Queen got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange +words, and cried for help, and Polonius behind the curtain cried +out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the King who was hidden there, +thrust with his sword at the hangings, and killed, not the King, +but poor old Polonius. + +So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad +hap killed his true love's father. + +"Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this," cried the Queen. + +And Hamlet answered bitterly, "Almost as bad as to kill a king, +and marry his brother." Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all +his thoughts and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at +least, to have no more friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, +who had killed the good King. And as they spoke the King's ghost +again appeared before Hamlet, but the Queen could not see it. So +when the ghost had gone, they parted. + +When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was +dead, he said, "This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since +he has killed the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we +must carry out our plan, and send him away to England." + +So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the +King, and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that +Hamlet should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to +get at these letters, and put in others instead, with the names +of the two courtiers who were so ready to betray him. Then, as +the vessel went to England, Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, +and the two wicked courtiers left him to his fate, and went on to +meet theirs. + +Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had +happened. Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her +father, lost her wits too, and went in sad madness about the Court, +with straws, and weeds, and flowers in her hair, singing strange +scraps of songs, and talking poor, foolish, pretty talk with no +heart of meaning to it. And one day, coming to a stream where +willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery garland on a willow, +and fell into the water with all her flowers, and so died. + +And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had +made him hide it; and when he came back, he found the King and +Queen, and the Court, weeping at the funeral of his dear love and +lady. + +Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask +justice for the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild +with grief, he leaped into his sister's grave, to clasp her in +his arms once more. + +"I loved her more than forty thousand brothers," cried Hamlet, and +leapt into the grave after him, and they fought till they were +parted. + +Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + +"I could not bear," he said, "that any, even a brother, should seem +to love her more than I." + +But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told +Laertes how Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they +made a plot to slay Hamlet by treachery. + +Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were +present. Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but +Laertes had prepared for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with +poison. And the wicked King had made ready a bowl of poisoned +wine, which he meant to give poor Hamlet when he should grow warm +with the sword play, and should call for drink. + +So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave +Hamlet a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for +they had been fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed +with Laertes in a struggle; both dropped their swords, and when +they picked them up again, Hamlet, without noticing it, had +exchanged his own blunt sword for Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. +And with one thrust of it he pierced Laertes, who fell dead by +his own treachery. + +At this moment the Queen cried out, "The drink, the drink! Oh, my +dear Hamlet! I am poisoned!" + +She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, +and the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really +loved, fall dead by his means. + +Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, +and the two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last +found courage to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's +murder--which, if he had braced up his heart to do long before, +all these lives had been spared, and none had suffered but the +wicked King, who well deserved to die. + +Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he +ought, turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + +"Then--venom--do thy work!" he cried, and the King died. + +So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And +all being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood +by saw him die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his +people loved him with their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic +tale of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. + + + + +CYMBELINE + + + +Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The +two sons were stolen away from him when they were quite little +children, and he was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The +King married a second time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of +a dear friend, as Imogen's playfellow; and when Leonatus was old +enough, Imogen secretly married him. This made the King and Queen +very angry, and the King, to punish Leonatus, banished him from +Britain. + +Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and +he was not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband +and wife, but they had been friends and comrades ever since they +were quite little children. With many tears and kisses they said +"Good-bye." They promised never to forget each other, and that +they would never care for anyone else as long as they lived. + +"This diamond was my mother's, love," said Imogen; "take it, my +heart, and keep it as long as you love me." + +"Sweetest, fairest," answered Leonatus, "wear this bracelet for my +sake." + +"Ah!" cried Imogen, weeping, "when shall we meet again?" + +And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, +and Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + +When he was come to Rome, where he had gone to stay with an old +friend of his father's, he spent his days still in thinking of +his dear Imogen, and his nights in dreaming of her. One day at +a feast some Italian and French noblemen were talking of their +sweethearts, and swearing that they were the most faithful and +honorable and beautiful ladies in the world. And a Frenchman +reminded Leonatus how he had said many times that his wife Imogen +was more fair, wise, and constant than any of the ladies in +France. + +"I say so still," said Leonatus. + +"She is not so good but that she would deceive," said Iachimo, one +of the Italian nobles. + +"She never would deceive," said Leonatus. + +"I wager," said Iachimo, "that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade +your wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your +wishes." + +"That you will never do," said Leonatus. "I wager this ring upon +my finger," which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, +"that my wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will +never persuade her to do otherwise." + +So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's +finger, and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of +introduction to Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was +received with all kindness; but he was still determined to win +his wager. + +He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went +on to tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, +but presently perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and +ordered him to leave her. Then he said-- + +"Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told +you this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were +as much to be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive +me?" + +"I forgive you freely," said Imogen. + +"Then," went on Iachimo, "perhaps you will prove it by taking charge +of a trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and +I and some other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor +of Rome." + +"I will indeed," said Imogen, "do anything for my husband and a +friend of my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and +I will take care of them." + +"It is only for one night," said Iachimo, "for I leave Britain +again to-morrow." + +So the trunk was carried into Imogen's room, and that night she +went to bed and to sleep. When she was fast asleep, the lid of +the trunk opened and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The story +about the jewels was as untrue as the rest of the things he had +said. He had only wished to get into her room to win his wicked +wager. He looked about him and noticed the furniture, and then +crept to the side of the bed where Imogen was asleep and took from +her arm the gold bracelet which had been the parting gift of her +husband. Then he crept back to the trunk, and next morning sailed +for Rome. + +When he met Leonatus, he said-- + +"I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no +longer thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night +in her room, which is hung with tapestry and has a carved +chimney-piece, and silver andirons in the shape of two winking +Cupids." + +"I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed +talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described +by the servants." + +"Ah!" said Iachimo, "but she gave me this bracelet. She took it +from her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her +gift, and yet enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized +it once." + +"Take the ring," cried Leonatus, "you have won; and you might have +won my life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady +has forgotten me." + +And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, +Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to +murder her, because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. +At the same time he wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go +with Pisanio, his old servant, to Milford Haven, and that he, her +husband, would be there to meet her. + +Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its +orders, and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave +Imogen the letter from her husband, and started with her for +Milford Haven. Before he left, the wicked Queen gave him a drink +which, she said, would be useful in sickness. She hoped he would +give it to Imogen, and that Imogen would die, and the wicked +Queen's son could be King. For the Queen thought this drink was +a poison, but really and truly it was only a sleeping-draft. + +When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her +what was really in the letter he had had from her husband. + +"I must go on to Rome, and see him myself," said Imogen. + +And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent +her on her way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he +gave her the drink he had had from the Queen. + +Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to +a cave. Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just +then. So she went in, and as she was almost dying of hunger, she +took some food she saw there, and had just done so, when an old +man and two boys came into the cave. She was very much frightened +when she saw them, for she thought that they would be angry with +her for taking their food, though she had meant to leave money +for it on the table. But to her surprise they welcomed her kindly. +She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her face was +good, as well as pretty. + +"You shall be our brother," said both the boys; and so she stayed +with them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. +But one day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out +hunting with the two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would +try the medicine Pisanio had given her. So she took it, and at +once became like a dead creature, so that when Bellarius and the +boys came back from hunting, they thought she was dead, and with +many tears and funeral songs, they carried her away and laid her +in the wood, covered with flowers. + +They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale +primroses, and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, +and went away sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen +awoke, and not knowing how she came there, nor where she was, went +wandering through the wood. + +Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided +to attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them +Leonatus, who had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, +so had come back, not to fight with the Romans against Britain, +but with the Britons against Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, +she met with Lucius, the Roman General, and took service with him +as his page. + +When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius +and his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, +disguised as a British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans +had taken Cymbeline prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons +and Leonatus, bravely rescued the King. Then the Britons won the +battle, and among the prisoners brought before the King were +Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, who had put on the +uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life since he +had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, as +a Roman soldier, he would be put to death. + +When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + +"A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer," he said. "If I must +die, so be it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a +Briton born, let him be ransomed. Never master had a page so +kind, so duteous, diligent, true. He has done no Briton harm, +though he has served a Roman. Save him, Sir." + +Then Cymbeline looked on the page, who was his own daughter, Imogen, +in disguise, and though he did not recognize her, he felt such a +kindness that he not only spared the boy's life, but he said-- + +"He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask +a prisoner, the noblest taken." + +Then Imogen said, "The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say +from whom he got the ring he has on his finger," and she pointed +to Iachimo. + +"Speak," said Cymbeline, "how did you get that diamond?" + +Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus +was unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of +disguise, he came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having +believed Iachimo's lying story, and calling again and again on +his wife whom he believed dead. + +"Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!" he cried. "Oh, Imogen! + +"Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, "Peace, my +lord--here, here!" + +Leonatus turned to strike the forward page who thus interfered in +his great trouble, and then he saw that it was his wife, Imogen, +and they fell into each other's arms. + +The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful +to the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), +that he gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned +to Bellarius, and the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + +"I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when +I had only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. +So I stole your two sons, and see,--they are here!" And he brought +forward the two boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when +they thought she was a boy like themselves. + +The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, +with his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + +So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever +after. So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till +the world's end. + + + + +MACBETH + + + +When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell +two stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne +of Scotland by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned +justly and well, on the whole, for fifteen years or more. This +story is part of Scottish history. The other story issues from +a place called Imagination; it is gloomy and wonderful, and you +shall hear it. + +A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, +a battle was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two +generals named Macbeth and Banquo. After the battle, the generals +walked together towards Forres, in Elginshire, where Duncan, King +of Scotland, was awaiting them. + +While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded +women, sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in +their attire. + +"Speak, who are you?" demanded Macbeth. + +"Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis," said the first woman. + +"Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor," said the second woman. + +"Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be," said the third woman. + +Then Banquo asked, "What of me?" and the third woman replied, "Thou +shalt be the father of kings." + +"Tell me more," said Macbeth. "By my father's death I am chieftain +of Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, +and his children live. Speak, I charge you!" + +The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with +the air. + +Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, +and were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. +One of them thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military +services, and the other said, "He bade me call you chieftain of +Cawdor." + +Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that +title was to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, "The +third witch called me, 'King that is to be.'" + +"Banquo," he said, "you see that the witches spoke truth concerning +me. Do you not believe, therefore, that your child and grandchild +will be kings?" + +Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and +he deemed it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule +Scotland. He told Macbeth that the witches might have intended +to tempt them both into villainy by their prophecies concerning +the throne. Macbeth, however, thought the prophecy that he should +be King too pleasant to keep to himself, and he mentioned it to +his wife in a letter. + +Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had +died in defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, +and by whose order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan +was a reminder of bitter wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in +his veins, and when she read his letter, she was determined that +he should be King. + +When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a +night in Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base +action. + +She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must +spend a sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that +the dead are blind. "We will speak further," said Macbeth uneasily, +and at night, with his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he +would fain have spared his guest. + +"Would you live a coward?" demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have +thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + +"I dare do all that may become a man," replied Macbeth; "who dare +do more is none." + +"Why did you write that letter to me?" she inquired fiercely, and +with bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning +words she showed him how to do it. + +After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on +guard at his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine +till they were stupefied. She then took their daggers and would +have killed the King herself if his sleeping face had not looked +like her father's. + +Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and +soon with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, "Methought +I heard a voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'" + +"Wash your hands," said she. "Why did you not leave the daggers +by the grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood." + +"I dare not," said Macbeth. + +His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, +but a heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his +fear. + +The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking +which could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the +chieftain of Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. +Macbeth went to him, and showed him the door of the King's room. + +Macduff entered, and came out again crying, "O horror! horror! +horror!" + +Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that +he could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the +two grooms with their own daggers before they could proclaim their +innocence. + +These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. +One of Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. +Macbeth was King. But he was discontented. The prophecy concerning +Banquo oppressed his mind. If Fleance were to rule, a son of +Macbeth would not rule. Macbeth determined, therefore, to murder +both Banquo and his son. He hired two ruffians, who slew Banquo +one night when he was on his way with Fleance to a banquet which +Macbeth was giving to his nobles. Fleance escaped. + +Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, +and he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands +of times since his day--"Now good digestion wait on appetite, and +health on both." + +"We pray your Majesty to sit with us," said Lennox, a Scotch noble; +but ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the +banqueting hall and sat in Macbeth's place. + +Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were +present, he could say that he had collected under his roof the +choicest chivalry of Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly +declined his invitation. + +The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom +Banquo's ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + +But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it +like a form of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, "Which +of you have done this?" + +Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, +"Thou canst not say I did it." + +The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a +glass of wine "to the general joy of the whole table, and to our +dear friend Banquo, whom we miss." + +The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second +time. + +"Begone!" cried Macbeth. "You are senseless, mindless! Hide in +the earth, thou horrible shadow." + +Again none saw the ghost but he. + +"What is it your Majesty sees?" asked one of the nobles. + +The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. +She hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely +to grow worse if he was obliged to talk. + +Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the +witches whose prophecies had so depraved him. + +He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving +round a cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange +and horrible creatures, and they knew he was coming before he +arrived. + +"Answer me what I ask you," said the King. + +"Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?" asked the first +witch. + +"Call them," replied Macbeth. + +Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease +into the flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with +the visor on, so that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + +He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, +"He knows thy thought," and a voice in the head said, "Macbeth, +beware Macduff, the chieftain of Fife." The head then descended +Into the cauldron till it disappeared. + +"One word more," pleaded Macbeth. + +"He will not be commanded," said the first witch, and then a crowned +child ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The +child said-- + + "Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill." + +"That will never be," said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if +Banquo's descendants would ever rule Scotland. + +The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession +of phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's +ghost. In each king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he +counted eight kings. + +Then he was suddenly left alone. + +His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. +They did not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. +She gave a stinging answer, and her questioner called Macduff a +traitor. "Thou liest!" shouted Macduff's little son, who was +immediately stabbed, and with his last breath entreated his mother +to fly. The murderers did not leave the castle while one of its +inmates remained alive. + +Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale +of cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came +to tell him that his wife and children were no more. At first +Ross dared not speak the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy +with sufferers relieved by royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. +But when Malcolm said that England was sending an army into Scotland +against Macbeth, Ross blurted out his news, and Macduff cried, +""All dead, did you say? All my pretty ones and their mother? Did +you say all?" + +His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into +Macbeth's castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a +force more solemn than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady +Macbeth was mad. She walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. +She was wont to wash her hands for a quarter of an hour at a time; +but after all her washing, would still see a red spot of blood +upon her skin. It was pitiful to hear her cry that all the perfumes +of Arabia could not sweeten her little hand. + +"Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?" inquired Macbeth of +the doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister +to her own mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. +"Throw physic to the dogs," he said; "I'll none of it." + +One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approched +him and said, "The Queen, your Majesty, is dead." "Out, brief +candle," muttered Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, +at the mercy of a puff of air. He did not weep; he was too familiar +with death. + +Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. +Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang +him if he had made a mistake. "If you are right you can hang me," +he said. + +From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed +appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held +aloft a bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like +human trees they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + +Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or +die, and the first thing he did was to kill the English general's +son in single combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight +him and live, and when Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, +Macbeth said to him, "Go back; I have spilt too much of your blood +already." + +"My voice is in my sword," replied Macduff, and hacked at him and +bade him yield. + +"I will not yield!" said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. +He fell. + +Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm +holding a King's head by the hair. + +"Hail, King!" he said; and the new King looked at the old. + +So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards +the descendants of Banquo were kings. + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + +AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. +His wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's +manager died, and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called +Epidamnum on the Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed +him, and after they had been together some time two baby boys were +born to them. The babies were exactly alike; even when they were +dressed differently they looked the same. + +And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn +where these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys +were born to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so +poor, indeed, were the parents of these twins that they sold them +to the parents of the other twins. + +AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, +and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies +sailed homewards. + +They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, +and the crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little +what became of their passengers. + +AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the +slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the +remaining children. Then the parents secured themselves to the +same masts, and hoped for safety. + +The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, +and AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away +from AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were +picked up by some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of +Corinth took the babies from her by force, and she returned to +Epidanmum alone, and very miserable. Afterwards she settled in +Ephesus, a famous town in Asia Minor. + +AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than +AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they +were eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the +slavechild he called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were +the names given to the children who floated away from him. + +At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless +with a desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with +his servant, and the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus +of Syracuse and Dromio of Syracuse. + +Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled +for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the +news of Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + +As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he +was arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that +the Duke of Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to +Ephesians unlucky enough to fall into his hands, that the Government +of Ephesus had angrily passed a law which punished by death or a +fine of a thousand pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. +AEgeon was brought before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him +that he must die or pay a thousand pounds before the end of the +day. + +You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the +children who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now +citizens of Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, +an uncle of Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus +of Ephesus and Dromio of Ephesus. + +Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of +Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum +in order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant +Dromio of Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and +remain there till he came. + +In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, +his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own +Dromio. "Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?" +asked Antipholus of Syracuse. + +This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received +on the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did +know that his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in +to dinner, and he asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house +called The Phoenix without delay. His speech angered the hearer, +who would have beaten him if he had not fled. Antipholus of +Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found that his gold had been +deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + +He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled +to him with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were +Adriana and Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus +of Ephesus, and she had made up her mind, from the strange account +given her by Dromio of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another +woman to his wife. "Ay, you may look as if you did not know me," +she said to the man who was really her brother-in-law, "but I can +remember when no words were sweet unless I said them, no meat +flavorsome unless I carved it." + +"Is it I you address?" said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. "I do +not know you." + +"Fie, brother," said Luciana. "You know perfectly well that she +sent Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner"; and Adriana said, +"Come, come; I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant +husband shall dine with me and confess his silly pranks and be +forgiven." + +They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary +of disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, +where a very late "mid-day" dinner awaited them. + +They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio +demanded admittance. "Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, +Ginn!" shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' +names by heart. + +From within came the reply, "Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!" +It was Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + +Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, +and finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed +with his wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had +promised her, to another woman. + +Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse +to be her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, +when alone with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he +told her that he was not married, but that he loved her so much +that, if Luciana were a mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea +if he might feel beneath him her floating golden hair. + +Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to +Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit +to be seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + +Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of +Angelo the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered +the chain which he had promised his wife and intended to give to +another woman. + +The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and +treated his "I bespoke it not" as mere fun, so that the puzzled +merchant took the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of +Adriana's dinner. He offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said +he would call again. + +The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor +of the sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest +unless he paid his debt immediately. This creditor had brought +a police officer with him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus +of Ephesus coming out of the house where he had been dining because +he had been locked out of The Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay +when Antipholus denied receipt of the chain. Angelo could have +sent his mother to prison if she had said that, and he gave +Antipholus of Ephesus in charge. + +At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong +Antipholus that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable +wind was blowing. To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk +was simple nonsense. He would gladly have beaten the slave, but +contented himself with crossly telling him to hurry to Adriana +and bid her send to her arrested husband a purse of money which +she would find in his desk. + +Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he +had been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana +from getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home +his master immediately. + +Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met +his real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand +what he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse +was further surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him +for a chain that he had promised her. She was, of course, the +lady with whom Antipholus of Ephesus had dined when his brother +was occupying his place at table. "Avaunt, thou witch!" was the +answer which, to her astonishment, she received. + +Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which +was to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy +with anger when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been +instructed to fetch a purse, appeared with nothing more useful +than a rope. He beat the slave in the street despite the remonstrance +of the police officer; and his temper did not mend when Adriana, +Luciana, and a doctor arrived under the impression that he was +mad and must have his pulse felt. He raged so much that men came +forward to bind him. But the kindness of Adriana spared him this +shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of him, and asked +the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + +Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again, +and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the +odd behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. "Softly," said the merchant +at last, "that's he, I think." + +It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, +and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair +fairly pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the +receipt of the chain he had the impudence to wear. Antipholus of +Syracuse lost his temper, and drew his sword, and at that moment +Adriana and several others appeared. "Hold!" shouted the careful +wife. "Hurt him not; he is mad. Take his sword away. Bind +him--and Dromio too." + +Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his +master, "Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be +robbed!" + +They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + +Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came +out, and said, "People, why do you gather here?" + +"To fetch my poor distracted husband," replied Adriana. + +Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he +was mad. + +Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely +worries, for the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, +and that if her husband was distracted he had better not return +to her for the present. + +Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, +lo and behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with +officers and two others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. +The thousand marks had not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed +sealed. + +Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and +told a woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry +and drawing his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow +her to lead him home. + +The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given +the order than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the +tale that his master had singed off the doctor's beard. + +"Nonsense!" said Adriana, "he's in the abbey." + +"As sure as I live I speak the truth," said the servant. + +Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his +brother of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, +exclaiming, "Justice, most gracious Duke, against that woman." +He pointed to Adriana. "She has treated another man like her +husband in my own house." + +Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, "Unless I am delirious, I +see my son Antipholus." + +No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how +the doctor, whom he called "a threadbare juggler," had been one +of a gang who tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into +a vault whence he had escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + +The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him +was seen to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when +AEgeon asked Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He +replied, "I never saw my father in my life;" but so deceived was +AEgeon by his likeness to the brother whom he had brought up, that +he said, "Thou art ashamed to acknowledge me in misery." + +Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and +Dromio of Syracuse. + +Then cried Adriana, "I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;" +and Antipholus, espying his father, said, "Thou art AEgeon or his +ghost." + +It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, "I will free that +man by paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, +AEgeon, for I am thy wife AEmilia." + +The Duke was touched. "He is free without a fine," he said. + +So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband +reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, +who, in the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, "I told +you I loved you. Will you be my wife?" + +Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + +The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more +beatings. + + + + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + +Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships +were on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, +with England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he +was very generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving +the wants of his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held +the first place. + +Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was +reckless and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come +to the end of his fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, +he went to Antonio for further help. + +"To you, Antonio," he said, "I owe the most in money and in love: +and I have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will +but help me." + +"Say what I can do, and it shall be done," answered his friend. + +Then said Bassanio, "In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from +all quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not +only because she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good +as well. She looked on me with such favor when last we met, that +I feel sure that I should win her away from all rivals for her +love had I but the means to go to Belmont, where she lives." + +"All my fortunes," said Antonio, "are at sea, and so I have no +ready money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will +borrow for you what you need." + +There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named +Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and +treated him with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust +him, like a cur, over his threshold, and would even spit on him. +Shylock submitted to all these indignities with a patient shrug; +but deep in his heart he cherished a desire for revenge on the +rich, smug merchant. For Antonio both hurt his pride and injured +his business. "But for him," thought Shylock, "I should be richer +by half a million ducats. On the market place, and wherever he +can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, and--worse than +that--he lends out money freely." + +So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand +ducats to Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and +turning to Antonio, said--"Harshly as you have treated me, I would +be friends with you and have your love. So I will lend you the +money and charge you no interest. But, just for fun, you shall +sign a bond in which it shall be agreed that if you do not repay +me in three months' time, then I shall have the right to a pound +of your flesh, to be cut from what part of your body I choose." + +"No," cried Bassanio to his friend, "you shall run no such risk +for me." + +"Why, fear not," said Antonio, "my ships will be home a month before +the time. I will sign the bond." + +Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there +to woo the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the +money-lender's pretty daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's +house with her lover, and she took with her from her father's +hoards some bags of ducats and precious stones. Shylock's grief +and anger were terrible to see. His love for her changed to hate. +"I would she were dead at my feet and the jewels in her ear," he +cried. His only comfort now was in hearing of the serious losses +which had befallen Antonio, some of whose ships were wrecked. +"Let him look to his bond," said Shylock, "let him look to his bond." + +Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair +Portia. He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her +wealth and beauty had drawn to her suitors from far and near. +But to all of them Portia had but one reply. She would only accept +that suitor who would pledge himself to abide by the terms of her +father's will. These were conditions that frightened away many +an ardent wooer. For he who would win Portia's heart and hand, +had to guess which of three caskets held her portrait. If he +guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if wrong, then he +was bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, never to +marry, and to go away at once. + +The caskets were of gold, silver, and lead. The gold one bore this +inscription:--"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire"; +the silver one had this:--"Who chooseth me shall get as much as +he deserves"; while on the lead one were these words:--"Who chooseth +me must give and hazard all he hath." The Prince of Morocco, as +brave as he was black, was among the first to submit to this test. +He chose the gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver +could contain her picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found +inside the likeness of what many men desire--death. + +After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, "Let me +have what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady," he chose the +silver one, and found inside a fool's head. "Did I deserve no +more than a fool's head?" he cried. + +Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from +making his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she +loved him dearly, even as he loved her. "But," said Bassanio, +let me choose at once, for, as I am, I live upon the rack." + +Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her +gallant lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and +walked up to the caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. +"Mere outward show," he said, "is to be despised. The world is +still deceived with ornament, and so no gaudy gold or shining +silver for me. I choose the lead casket; joy be the consequence!" +And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait inside, and he +turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + +"Yes," said Portia, "I am yours, and this house is yours, and with +them I give you this ring, from which you must never part." + +And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found +words to swear that he would never part with the ring while he +lived. + +Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers +came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that +Shylock demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under +which he was entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia +was as grieved as Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened +his friend. + +"First," she said, "take me to church and make me your wife, and +then go to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take +with you money enough to pay his debt twenty times over." + +But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, +and arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction +from a celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had +called in to decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim +to a pound of Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio +offered Shylock twice the money borrowed, if he would withdraw +his claim. But the money-lender's only answer was-- + + "If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond." + +It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her +own husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of +the great Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the +case to her. Then in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. +But he was deaf to her entreaties. "I will have the pound of +flesh," was his reply. + +"What have you to say?" asked Portia of the merchant. + +"But little," he answered; "I am armed and well prepared." + +"The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh," said Portia to +the money-lender. + +"Most righteous judge!" cried Shylock. "A sentence: come, +prepare." + +"Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, +only to his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all +your property will be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law." + +And Shylock, in his fear, said, "Then I will take Bassanio's offer." + +"No," said Portia sternly, "you shall have nothing but your bond. +Take your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or +less, even by the weight of a hair, you will lose your property +and your life." + +Shylock now grew very much frightened. "Give me my three thousand +ducats that I lent him, and let him go." + +Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, "No! He shall +have nothing but his bond." + +"You, a foreigner," she added, "have sought to take the life of a +Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your life and +goods are forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the +Duke." + +Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to +Shylock had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender +forfeited half his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the +other half on his daughter's husband, and with this he had to be +content. + +Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to +part with the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had +promised never to part, and when on his return to Belmont he +confessed as much to Portia, she seemed very angry, and vowed she +would not be friends with him until she had her ring again. But +at last she told him that it was she who, in the disguise of the +lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and got the ring from him. +So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier than ever, to know how +rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the caskets. + + + + +TIMON OF ATHENS + + + +Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens +whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very +rich, but no worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and +gave like Timon. If anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from +Timon twenty better horses. If anybody borrowed money of Timon +and offered to repay it, Timon was offended. If a poet had written +a poem and Timon had time to read it, he would be sure to buy it; +and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in front of Timon to +receive double its market price. + +Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of +life. When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and +spilling costly wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He +would say to himself, "There are ten thousand candles burning in +this house, and each of those singers braying in the concert-room +costs a poor man's yearly income a night"; and he would remember +a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of his master's friends, +"O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees them not!" + +Of course, Timon was much praised. + +A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite +perfect till Timon wore it. "You mend the jewel by wearing it," +he said. Timon gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and +the lord exclaimed, "O, he's the very soul of bounty." "Timon is +infinitely dear to me," said another lord, called Lucullus, to +whom he gave a beautiful horse; and other Athenians paid him +compliments as sweet. + +But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, "I'm +going to knock out an honest Athenian's brains." + +"You will die for that," said Timon. + +"Then I shall die for doing nothing," said Apemantus. And now you +know what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + +This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, +because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a +number of acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, +but does not shun them, and boasts that he is never deceived by +their fine speeches, and is inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus +was a man like that. + +Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than +Apemantus, after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + +Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, +and the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and +the wise man has saved enough money to be ready for them. But +Timon had not; and he did not only owe money for food. He owed +it for jewels and horses and furniture; and, worst of all, he owed +it to money-lenders, who expected him to pay twice as much as he +had borrowed. + +Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that +day Timon was asked for a large sum of money. "Sell some land," +he said to his steward. "You have no land," was the reply. +"Nonsense! I had a hundred, thousand acres," said Timon. "You +could have spent the price of the world if you had possessed it," +said Flavius. + +"Borrow some then," said Timon; "try Ventidius." He thought of +Ventidius because he had once got Ventidius out of prison by paying +a creditor of this young man. Ventidius was now rich. Timon +trusted in his gratitude. But not for all; so much did he owe! +Servants were despatched with requests for loans of money to +several friends: + +One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced +Lucullus said, "A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and +basin last night." Then, changing his tone, "How is that honorable, +free-hearted, perfect gentleman, your master, eh?" + +"Well in health, sir," replied Flaminius. + +"And what have you got there under your cloak?" asked Lucullus, +jovially. + +"Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, +I beg you to fill with money, sir." + +"La! la! la!" said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, "Ha! +ha! ha!" "Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving +parties. I've warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, +Flaminius, you know this is no time to lend money without security, +so suppose you act like a good boy and tell him that I was not at +home. Here's three solidares for yourself." + +"Back, wretched money," cried Flaminius, "to him who worships you!" + +Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst +them was Sempronius. + +"Hum," he said to Timon's servant, "has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius +is beholden to him." + +"He refused." + +"Well, have you asked Lucullus?" + +"He refused." + +"A poor compliment to apply to me last of all," said Sempronius, +in affected anger. "If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly +have lent him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to +lend him any now." + +"Your lordship makes a good villain," said the servant. + +When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage +of a lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company +to a banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, +were not in the least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in +Timon's house, and said to one another that their princely host +had been jesting with them. + +"I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here," +said Lucullus; "but who could refuse Timon?" + +"It was a real grief to me to be without ready money when he asked +for some," said Sempronius. + +"The same here," chimed in a third lord. + +Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies +and compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them +all. + +In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. +Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + +"Be seated, worthy friends," said Timon. He then prayed aloud to +the gods of Greece. "Give each man enough," he said, "for if you, +who are our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore +you. Let men love the joint more than the host. Let every score +of guests contain twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as +they have blessed me. Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!" + +The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent +it. They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called +them dogs, they uncovered the dishes. + +There was nothing in them but warm water. + +"May you never see a better feast," wished Timon "I wash off the +flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your +villainy." With these words he threw the water into his guests' +faces, and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended +the banquet, he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted +Athens for ever. + +His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + +Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was +a handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked +because, having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had +left that town. The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a +true friend did not soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too +weak-minded to discern the fact that good cannot be far from evil +in this mixed world. He determined to see nothing better in all +mankind than the ingratitude of Ventidius and the meanness of +Lucullus. + +He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in +the earth for food. + +One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade +struck gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched +himself quickly, and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But +the sight of the gold vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. +"This yellow slave," he said, "will make and break religions. It +will make black white and foul fair. It will buy murder and bless +the accursed." + +He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, +approached with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared +for nothing but pleasure. + +Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that +Alcibiades did not recognize him at first. + +"Who are you?" he asked. + +"A beast, as you are," was the reply. + +Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But +Timon would none of it, and began to insult the women. They, +however, when they found he had discovered a gold mine, cared not +a jot for his opinion of them, but said, "Give us some gold, good +Timon. Have you more?" + +With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + +"Farewell," said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were +lost; and then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the +mine which could have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + +Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when +he dug up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + +Just then Apemantus appeared. "I am told that you imitate me," +said Apemantus. "Only," said Timon, "because you haven't a dog +which I can imitate." + +"You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself," +said Apemantus. "That is very silly, for they live just as +comfortably as they ever did. I am sorry that a fool should +imitate me." + +"If I were like you," said Timon, "I should throw myself away." + +"You have done so," sneered Apemantus. "Will the cold brook make +you a good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a +valet would?" + +"Off with you!" said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer +and told him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. +Apemantus even made a pun, but there was no good laughter to be +got out of Timon. + +Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said +he was sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who +left him with an evil wish. + +This was almost an "at home" day for Timon, for when Apemantus had +departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + +"You want too much," said Timon. "Here are water, roots and +berries." + +"We are not birds and pigs," said a robber. + +"No, you are cannibals," said Timon. "Take the gold, then, and +may it poison you! Henceforth rob one another." + +He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with +full pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last +visitor on that day of visits was his good steward Flavius. "My +dearest master!" cried he. + +"Away! What are you?" said Timon. + +"Have you forgotten me, sir?" asked Flavius, mournfully. + +"I have forgotten all men," was the reply; "and if you'll allow +that you are a man, I have forgotten you." + +"I was your honest servant," said Flavius. + +"Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me," retorted Timon. + +Flavius began to cry. + +"What! shedding tears?" said Timon. "Come nearer, then. I will +love you because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep +when they laugh or beg." + +They talked awhile; then Timon said, "Yon gold is mine. I will +make you rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and +hate mankind. I will make you very rich if you promise me that +you will see the flesh slide off the beggar's bones before you +feed him, and let the debtor die in jail before you pay his debt." + +Flavius simply said, "Let me stay to comfort you, my master." + +"If you dislike cursing, leave me," replied Timon, and he turned +his back on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much +accustomed to obedience to force his services upon his ailing +master. + +The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a +mighty nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, +and Timon therefore received more visitors. They were a painter +and a poet, whom he had patronized in his prosperity. + +"Hail, worthy Timon!" said the poet. "We heard with astonishment +how your friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their +backs!" + +"We have come," put in the painter, "to offer our services." + +"You've heard that I have gold," said Timon. + +"There was a report," said the painter, blushing; "but my friend +and I did not come for that." + +"Good honest men!" jeered Timon. "All the same, you shall have +plenty of gold if you will rid me of two villains." + +"Name them," said his two visitors in one breath. "Both of you!" +answered Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he +said, "Put that into your palette and make money out of it." Then +he gave a whack to the poet, and said, "Make a poem out of that +and get paid for it. There's gold for you." + +They hurriedly withdrew. + +Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was +threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter +noble whose gold might help the foe. + +"Forget your injuries," said the first senator. "Athens offers +you dignities whereby you may honorably live." + +"Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to +atone, and more than atone, for her forgetfulness," said the second +senator. + +"Worthy senators," replied Timon, in his grim way, "I am almost +weeping; you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and +the heart of a fool. " + +But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter +man could save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. "Be +our captain," they said, "and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who +threatens to destroy her." + +"Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care," said Timon; +and seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + +The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were +blown before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened +to Alcibiades, who told them that wrong-doers should quake in +their easy chairs. They looked at his confident army, and were +convinced that Athens must yield if he assaulted it, therefore +they used the voice that strikes deeper than arrows. + +"These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never +wronged you, Alcibiades," said the first senator. + +"Enter," said the second senator, "and slay every tenth man, if +your revenge needs human flesh." + +"Spare the cradle," said the first senator. + +"I ask only justice," said Alcibiades. "If you admit my army, I +will inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who +breaks them." + +At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, "My noble +general, Timon is dead." He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, +saying, "He is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave +is a stone with letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore +I have impressed them on wax." + +Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + + "Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + all living men did hate. + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + and stay not here your gait." + +"Dead, then, is noble Timon," said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens +with an olive branch instead of a sword. + +So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater +matter than Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon +remembered as a warning lest another ingratitude should arise to +turn love into hate. + + + + +OTHELLO + + + +Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, +who hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. +Instead of Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen +Michael Cassio, whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the +heart of Desdemona. lago had a friend called Roderigo, who supplied +him with money and felt he could not be happy unless Desdemona +was his wife. + +Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies +called him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. +He had been vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he +had been a great traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher +than their heads. Brave as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. +His love was a terrible selfishness. To love a woman meant with +him to possess her as absolutely as he possessed something that +did not live and think. The story of Othello is a story of jealousy. + +One night Iago told Roderigo that Othello had carried off Desdemona +without the knowledge of her father, Brabantio. He persuaded +Roderigo to arouse Brabantio, and when that senator appeared Iago +told him of Desdemona's elopement in the most unpleasant way. +Though he was Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and a +Barbary horse. + +Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery +to fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery +he used was his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and +hair-breadth escapes. Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, +and she explained how she could love Othello despite his almost +black face by saying, "I saw Othello's visage in his mind." + +As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, +there was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke +wished him to go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello +was quite ready to go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, +was pernutted to join him at Cyprus. + +Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. +"Oh, my sweet," he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his +wife, and Roderigo before him, "I hardly know what I say to you. +I am in love with my own happiness." + +News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he +proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + +Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so +Iago decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some +difficulty, as Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but +servants brought wine into the room where Cassio was, and Iago +sang a drinking song, and so Cassio lifted a glass too often to +the health of the general. + +When Cassio was inclined to be quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to +say something unpleasant to him. Cassio cudgeled Roderigo, who +ran into the presence of Montano, the ex-governor. Montano civilly +interceded for Roderigo, but received so rude an answer from Cassio +that he said, "Come, come, you're drunk!" Cassio then wounded him, +and Iago sent Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + +The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, +"Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine." + +On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned +about his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the +same thing. "O God," exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, "that +men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their +brains!" + +Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. +Cassio was pleased with the advice, and next morning made his +request to Desdemona in the garden of the castle. She was kindness +itself, and said, "Be merry, Cassio, for I would rather die than +forsake your cause." + +Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired +hurriedly. + +Iago said, "I don't like that." + +"What did you say?" asked Othello, who felt that he had meant +something unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. +"Was not that Cassio who went from my wife?" asked Othello, and +Iago, who knew that it was Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, "I +cannot think it was Cassio who stole away in that guilty manner." + +Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made +Cassio retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had +taken his part when she was still heart-free, and found fault with +her Moorish lover. Othello was melted, and said, "I will deny +thee nothing," but Desdemona told him that what she asked was as +much for his good as dining. + +Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true +that Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + +"Yes," said Othello. + +"Indeed," said Iago, as though something that had mystified him +was now very clear. + +"Is he not honest?" demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective +inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say "No." + +"What do you mean?" insisted Othello. + +To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to +Cassio. He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello +he said, "Who steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches +from me my good name ruins me." + +At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident +of his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it +was no other than Iago who called jealousy "the green-eyed monster +which doth mock the meat it feeds on." + +Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the +remark that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with +Othello. "If she deceived him, why not you?" was his meaning. + +Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was +ready. She saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a +pain in his forehead. Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, +which Othello had given her. A prophetess, two hundred years old, +had made this handkerchief from the silk of sacred silkworms, dyed +it in a liquid prepared from the hearts of maidens, and embroidered +it with strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of it simply as +a cool, soft thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell upon +it that would work destruction for her who lost it. "Let me tie +it round your head," she said to Othello; "you will be well in an +hour." But Othello pettishly said it was too small, and let it +fall. Desdemona and he then went indoors to dinner, and Emilia +picked up the handkerchief which Iago had often asked her to steal. + +She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about +it he snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + +In the garden he was joined by Othello, who seemed hungry for the +worst lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello that he had +seen Cassio wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because it +was spotted with strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello +had given his wife. + +The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens +witness that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's +service. "I accept your love," said Othello. "Within three days +let me hear that Cassio is dead." + +Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's +room. Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the +strawberry pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca +and asked her to copy it for him. + +Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying +Desdemona about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a +conversation between Cassio and himself. His intention was to +talk about Cassio's sweetheart, and allow Othello to suppose that +the lady spoken of was Desdemona. + +"How are you, lieutenant?" asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + +"The worse for being called what I am not," replied Cassio, gloomily. + +"Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored," said +Iago, adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, "If Bianca +could set the matter right, how quickly it would mend!" + +"Alas! poor rogue," said Cassio, "I really think she loves me," +and like the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast +of Bianca's fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked +rage, that he prattled of Desdemona, and thought, "I see your +nose, Cassio, but not the dog I shall throw it to." + +Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with +the idea that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked +her to copy the embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. +She tossed him the handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio +departed with her. + +Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and +speech inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself +to praise his wife to the villain before him. He praised her +skill with the needle, her voice that could "sing the savageness +out of a bear," her wit, her sweetness, the fairness of her skin. +Every time he praised her Iago said something that made him +remember his anger and utter it foully, and yet he must needs +praise her, and say, "The pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of +it, Iago!" + +There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If +there had been he might have wavered then. + +"Strangle her," he said; and "Good, good!" said his miserable dupe. + +The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a +relative of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter +for Othello from the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello +from Cyprus, and gave the governorship to Cassio. + +Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more +the suit of Cassio. + +"Fire and brimstone!" shouted Othello. + +"It may be the letter agitates him," explained Lodovico to Desdemona, +and he told her what it contained. + +"I am glad," said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that +Othello's unkindness had wrung out of her. + +"I am glad to see you lose your temper," said Othello. + +"Why, sweet Othello?" she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped +her face. + +Now was the time for Desdemona to have saved her life by separation, +but she knew not her peril--only that her love was wounded to the +core. "I have not deserved this," she said, and the tears rolled +slowly down her face. + +Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. "My lord," he said, "this +would not be believed in Venice. Make her amends;" but, like a +madman talking in his nightmare, Othello poured out his foul +thought in ugly speech, and roared, "Out of my sight!" + +"I will not stay to offend you," said his wife, but she lingered +even in going, and only when he shouted "Avaunt!" did she leave +her husband and his guests. + +Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, "You are welcome, +sir, to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!" Without waiting for a reply +he left the company. + +Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family +quarrels, and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and +Lodovico asked Iago for an explanation. + +True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was +worse than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and +save him from the discomfort of answering any more questions. + +He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out +of tune with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels +for Desdemona without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, +for Iago was a thief. + +Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's +house, Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio +shouted, and Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed +out Roderigo as his assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of +an inconvenient friend, called him "Villain!" and stabbed him, +but not to death. + +At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that +she must leave her; her husband wished it. "Dismiss me!" exclaimed +Emilia. "It was his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease +him now." + +She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to +her--a song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as +though it weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + +She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. "Have you prayed +to-night?" he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman +to ask God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. +"I would not kill thy soul," he said. + +He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had +nought to confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could +not say anything that would damage her. Othello said his mouth +was stopped. + +Then Desdemona wept, but with violent words, in spite of all her +pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and mortally hurt her. + +Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the +door, and Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed +saying, "A guiltless death I die." + +"Who did it?" cried Emilia; and the voice said, "Nobody--I myself. +Farewell!" + +"'Twas I that killed her," said Othello. + +He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came +running in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, +Emilia told the truth. + +And Othello knew. "Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?" +he exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and +fled. + +But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on +was a relief from torture. + +They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but +he escaped them on his sword. "A word or two before you go," he +said to the Venetians in the chamber. "Speak of me as I was--no +better, no worse. Say I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept +with these hard eyes; and say that, when in Aleppo years ago I +saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I took him by the throat and smote +him thus." + +With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died +his lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + +There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair +daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, +and unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while +her sister, Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, +that more than one suitor asked her father for her hand. But +Baptista said the elder daughter must marry first. + +So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some +one to marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got +to listen to their suit for Bianca. + +A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought +of, and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, +the disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that +was just the sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome +and rich, he himself would undertake soon to make her +good-tempered. + +Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to +his gentle daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own +that she was anything but gentle. And just then her music master +rushed in, complaining that the naughty girl had broken her lute +over his head, because he told her she was not playing correctly. + +"Never mind," said Petruchio, "I love her better than ever, and +long to have some chat with her." + +When Katharine came, he said, "Good-morrow, Kate--for that, I hear, +is your name." + +"You've only heard half," said Katharine, rudely. + +"Oh, no," said Petruchio, "they call you plain Kate, and bonny +Kate, and sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness +praised in every town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife." + +"Your wife!" cried Kate. "Never!" She said some extremely +disagreeable things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by +boxing his ears. + +"If you do that again, I'll cuff you," he said quietly; and still +protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but +her. + +When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + +"How speed you with my daughter?" + +"How should I speed but well," replied Petruchio--"how, but well?" + +"How now, daughter Katharine?" the father went on. + +"I don't think," said Katharine, angrily, "you are acting a father's +part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian." + +"Ah!" said Petruchio, "you and all the world would talk amiss of +her. You should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In +short, I will go off to Venice to buy fine things for our +wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! we will be married on Sunday." + +With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a +violent temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But +whether she fell in love with Petruchio, or whether she was only +glad to meet a man who was not afraid of her, or whether she was +flattered that, in spite of her rough words and spiteful usage, +he still desired her for his wife--she did indeed marry him on +Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + +To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late +at the wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes +that she was ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed +in the same shabby way, and the horses they rode were the sport +of everyone they passed. + +And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, +Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or +drink--saying that she was his now, and he could do as he liked +with her. + +And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his +wedding in so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled +and went with him. He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, +and they journeyed by rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he +scolding and snarling all the way. + +She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio +was determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, +for he had made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson +she would never forget. + +So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served +he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and +ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything +but the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went +supperless to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he +loved her, and how anxious he was that she should sleep well, +pulled her bed to pieces, throwing the pillows and bedclothes on +the floor, so that she could not go to bed at all, and still kept +growling and scolding at the servants so that Kate might see how +unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + +The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and +caught away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick +and giddy for want of sleep. Then she said to one of the +servants-- + +"I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what." + +"What say you to a neat's foot?" said the servant. + +Katharine said "Yes," eagerly; but the servant, who was in his +master's secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered +people. Would she like tripe? + +"Bring it me," said Katharine. + +"I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people," said the +servant. "What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?" + +"I love it," said Kate. + +"But mustard is too hot." + +"Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go," cried Katharine, +who was getting hungrier and hungrier. + +"No," said the servant, "you must have the mustard, or you get no +beef from me." + +"Then," cried Katharine, losing patience, "let it be both, or one, +or anything thou wilt." + +"Why, then," said the servant, "the mustard without the beef!" + +Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + +Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely +begun to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to +bring her new clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her +still hungry. Katharine was pleased with the pretty new dress +and cap that the tailor had made for her, but Petruchio found +fault with everything, flung the cap and gown on the floor vowing +his dear wife should not wear any such foolish things. + +"I will have them," cried Katharine. "All gentlewomen wear such +caps as these--" + +"When you are gentle you shall have one too," he answered, "and +not till then." When he had driven away the tailor with angry +words--but privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio +said-- + +"Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as +the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in +the meanest habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily +get there by dinner-time." + +"It's nearly two," said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown +to see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her +father and her sister; "it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time +before we get there." + +"It shall be seven," said Petruchio, obstinately, "before I start. +Why, whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. +I won't go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock +I say it is." + +At last they started for her father's house. + +"Look at the moon," said he. + +"It's the sun," said Katharine, and indeed it was. + +"I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or +moon, or whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your +father's." + +Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. "What you will have it +named," she said, "it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine." +And so it was, for from that moment Katharine felt that she had +met her master, and never again showed her naughty tempers to him, +or anyone else. + +So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they +found all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another +newly married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made +welcome, and sat down to the feast, and all was merry, save that +Hortensio's wife, seeing Katharine subdued to her husband, thought +she could safely say many disagreeable things, that in the old +days, when Katharine was free and froward, she would not have +dared to say. But Katharine answered with such spirit and such +moderation, that she turned the laugh against the new bride. + +After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a +laugh against Petruchio, saying "Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, +I fear you have got the veriest shrew of all." + +"You are wrong," said Petruchio, "let me prove it to you. Each of +us shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, +and the one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which +we will agree on." + +The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife +the most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the +wager. + +They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + +"Twenty crowns," said Petruchio, "I'll venture so much on my hawk +or hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife." + +"A hundred then," cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + +"Content," cried the others. + +Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come +to him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. +But the servant coming back, said-- + +"Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come."' + +"There's an answer for you," said Petruchio. + +"You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you +a worse." + +"I hope, better," Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + +"Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once." + +"Oh--if you entreat her," said Petruchio. + +"I am afraid," answered Hortensio, sharply, "do what you can, yours +will not be entreated." + +But now the servant came in, and said-- + +"She says you are playing some jest, she will not come." + +"Better and better," cried Petruchio; "now go to your mistress and +say I command her to come to me." + +They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would +be, and that she would not come. + +Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + +"Here comes Katharine!" And sure enough--there she was. + +"What do you wish, sir?" she asked her husband. + +"Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?" + +"Talking by the parlor fire." + +"Fetch them here." + +When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + +"Here is a wonder!" + +"I wonder what it means," said Hortensio. + +"It means peace," said Petruchio, "and love, and quiet life." + +"Well," said Baptista, "you have won the wager, and I will add +another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for +another daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone +else." + +So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving +wife and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit +he loved her well, and there was nothing ever but love between +those two. And so they lived happy ever afterwards. + + + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + +More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were +governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio +was excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made +unhappy. + +The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna +was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his +chief secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, +therefore, that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was +dear to him. He knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being +lax, he would cause people to call him a tyrant. For this reason +he told his Privy Council that he must go to Poland on important +business of state. "I have chosen Angelo to rule in my absence," +said he. + +Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a +mean man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and +now would have nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been +lost. So poor Mariana lived forlornly, waiting every day for the +footstep of her stingy lover, and loving him still. + +Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called +Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the +art of giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to +Poland, but to stay at home and see how Angelo governed. + +Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a +young man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which +nowadays would only be punished by severe reproof. + +Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of +freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would +plead with Angelo. + +Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her +heart, and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + +Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + +An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. "Let us cut a little, +but not kill," he said. "This gentleman had a most noble father." + +Angelo was unmoved. "If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more +mercy than is in the law." + +Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed +at nine the next morning. + +After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of +the condemned man desired to see him. + +"Admit her," said Angelo. + +On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, "I am a woeful +suitor to your Honor." + +"Well?" said Angelo. + +She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased +the beauty of her face. "I have a brother who is condemned to +die," she continued. "Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare +my brother." + +"Every fault," said Angelo, "is condemned before it is committed. +A fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer +of a fault went free." + +She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, +"You are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted +a pin." + +So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, "I will not +pardon him," she was not discouraged, and when he said, "He's +sentenced; 'tis too late," she returned to the assult. But all +her fighting was with reasons, and with reasons she could not +prevail over the Deputy. + +She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him +that humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it +was good to have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant. +She told him that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. +She bade him look for fault in his own breast, and if he found +one, to refrain from making it an argument against her brother's +life. + +Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved +Isabella's beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he +would not do for the love of man. + +He appeared to relent, for he said, "Come to me to-morrow before +noon." + +She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life +for a few hours.' + +In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with +his judicial duty. + +When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, "Your brother +cannot live." + +Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, "Even so. +Heaven keep your Honor." + +But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were +slight in comparison with the loss of her. + +"Give me your love," he said, "and Claudio shall be freed." + +"Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to +lay upon the block," said Isabella, for she saw then that he was +not the just man he pretended to be. + +So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must +die. At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness +of death. But when he clearly understood that his sister could +buy his life by marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable +than her happiness, and he exclaimed, "Sweet sister, let me live." + +"O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!" she cried. + +At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to +request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar +Lodowick. + +The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose +love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. +Let Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to +Angelo, and say, in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio +were spared she would marry him. Let her take the ring from +Angelo's little finger, that it might be afterwards proved that +his visitor was Mariana. + +Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as +nearly like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the +Duke's plan. They were to meet again at the moated grange, +Mariana's house. + +In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like +a friar, called out, "What news of the Duke, friar?" "I have none," +said the Duke. + +Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told +one about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, +and called the Duke "a shallow, ignorant fool," though he pretended +to love him. "The Duke shall know you better if I live to report +you," said the Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw +in the street, what he thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who +imagined he was speaking to a friar, replied, "The Duke is a very +temperate gentleman, who prefers to see another merry to being +merry himself." + +The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + +Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced +the two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. +They went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of +Claudio, and while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke +looked out of the window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds +black with moss, which betrayed Mariana's indifference to her +country dwelling. Some women would have beautified their garden: +not she. She was for the town; she neglected the joys of the +country. He was sure that Angelo would not make her unhappier. + +"We are agreed, father," said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + +So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his +love, and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a +milky stone which flashed in the light with secret colors. + +Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared +to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had +not, however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he +waited. His amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these +words, "Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be +executed by four of the clock. Let me have his head sent me by +five." + +But the Duke said to the Provost, "You must show the Deputy another +head," and he held out a letter and a signet. "Here," he said, +"are the hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, +and Angelo knows it not. Give Angelo another head." + +The Provost thought, "This friar speaks with power. I know the +Duke's signet and I know his hand." + +He said at length, "A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of +the age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his +head." + +The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by +its resemblance to Claudio's. + +The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city +gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo +and Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised +for their conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence. + +It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, +passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and +cried for justice. + +When her story was told, the Duke cried, "To prison with her for +a slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come +here?" + +"Friar Lodowick," said she. + +"Who knows him?" inquired the Duke. + +"I do, my lord," replied Lucio. "I beat him because he spake +against your Grace." + +A friar called Peter here said, "Friar Lodowick is a holy man." + +Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She +took off her veil, and said to Angelo, "This is the face you once +swore was worth looking on." + +Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, "This is +the hand which wears the ring you thought to give another." + +"I know the woman," said Angelo. "Once there was talk of marriage +between us, but I found her frivolous." + +Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest +vows. Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production +of Friar Lodowick. + +"He shall appear," promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the +missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + +Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, +and accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much +examined as abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to +deny, if he dared, that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, +and had had his nose pulled for his impudence. + +"To prison with him!" shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon +him, the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before +them all. + +"Now," he said to Angelo, "if you have any impudence that can yet +serve you, work it for all it's worth." + +"Immediate sentence and death is all I beg," was the reply. + +"Were you affianced to Mariana?" asked the Duke. + +"I was," said Angelo. + +"Then marry her instantly," said his master. "Marry them," he said +to Friar Peter, "and return with them here." + +"Come hither, Isabel," said the Duke, in tender tones. "Your friar +is now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your +brother;" but well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + +"O pardon me," she cried, "that I employed my Sovereign in my +trouble." + +"You are pardoned," he said, gaily. + +At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. "And now, Angelo," +said the Duke, gravely, "we condemn thee to the block on which +Claudio laid his head!" + +"O my most gracious lord," cried Mariana, "mock me not!" + +"You shall buy a better husband," said the Duke. + +"O my dear lord," said she, "I crave no better man." + +Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned +inflexibility. + +"Provost," he said, "how came it that Claudio as executed at an +unusual hour?" + +Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost +said, "I had a private message." + +"You are discharged from your office," said the Duke. The Provost +then departed. Angelo said, "I am sorry to have caused such +sorrow. I prefer death to mercy." Soon there was a motion in +the crowd. The Provost re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big +child the Provost said, "I saved this man; he is like Claudio." +The Duke was amused, and said to Isabella, "I pardon him because +he is like your brother. He is like my brother, too, if you, dear +Isabel, will be mine." + +She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted +the Provost. + +Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + +Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. +Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and +lived at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy +in his name because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it +is hard for a Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy +in his name, because it was that of a famous shape-changer, and +therefore it encouraged him to be a lover at one time and a traitor +at another. + +One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. +"I'm not in love like you," said he, "and therefore I don't want +to stay at home." + +Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called +Julia, who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, +however, sorry to part from Valentine, and he said, "If ever you +are in danger tell me, and I will pray for you." Valentine then +went to Milan with a servant called Speed, and at Milan he fell +in love with the Duke of Milan's daughter, Silvia. + +When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that +she loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his +letters in the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, +was no simpleton, for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, +"All she wants is to be annoyed by another letter." Indeed, no +sooner had Lucetta left her alone than Julia repented of her +tearing, and placed between her dress and her heart the torn piece +of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So by tearing a +letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved him. +Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, "Be patient, +and you shall marry me." + +Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's +letter and talking to himself. + +"What have you got there?" asked his father, Antonio. + +"A letter from Valentine," fibbed Proteus. + +"Let me read it," said Antonio. + +"There is no news," said deceitful Proteus; "he only says that he +is very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he +wishes I were with him." + +This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should +go to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. "You +must go to-morrow," he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. "Give me +time to get my outfit ready." He was met with the promise, "What +you need shall be sent after you." + +It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement +was two days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, "Keep this for +my sake," and he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who +intend to be true till death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + +Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing +at him under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she +told him that she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman +whom she thought well of, but had no time: would he write it? Very +much did Valentine dislike writing that letter, but he did write +it, and gave it to her coldly. "Take it back," she said; "you +did it unwillingly." + +"Madam," he said, "it was difficult to write such a letter for +you." + +"Take it back," she commanded; "you did not write tenderly enough." + +Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; +but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had +allowed Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's +own self. "The joke," he said, "is as invisible as a weather-cock +on a steeple." He meant that it was very plain; and he went on +to say exactly what it was: "If master will write her love-letters, +he must answer them." + +On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia +and afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how +his love for Julia was prospering. + +"Why," said Proteus, "you used to get wearied when I spoke of her." + +"Aye," confessed Valentine, "but it's different now. I can eat +and drink all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in +my cup." + +"You idolize Silvia," said Proteus. + +"She is divine," said Valentine. + +"Come, come!" remonstrated Proteus. + +"Well, if she's not divine," said Valentine, "she is the queen of +all women on earth." + +"Except Julia," said Proteus. + +"Dear boy," said Valentine, "Julia is not excepted; but I will +grant that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train." + +"Your bragging astounds me," said Proteus. + +But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired +Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain +without delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--"I +to myself am dearer than my friend." + +It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, +by the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body +at the evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. +But his body did not change; his smile was still affectionate, +and Valentine confided to him the great secret that Silvia had +now promised to run away with him. "In the pocket of this cloak," +said Valentine, "I have a silken rope ladder, with hooks which +will clasp the window-bar of her room." + +Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on +flight. The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly +noodle for whom she did not care a straw. + +Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make +Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring +Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, +and said, "Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my +friend Valentine, but your Grace should know that he intends +to-night to elope with your Grace's daughter." He begged the Duke +not to tell Valentine the giver of this information, and the Duke +assured him that his name would not be divulged. + +Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him +wearing a large cloak with a bulging pocket. + +"You know," said the Duke, "my desire to marry my daughter to Sir +Thurio?" + +"I do," replied Valentine. "He is virtuous and generous, as befits +a man so honored in your Grace's thoughts." + +"Nevertheless she dislikes him," said the Duke. "She is a peevish, +proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a +penny. I intend, therefore, to marry again." + +Valentine bowed. + +"I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love," continued +the Duke, "and I thought that you would be just the man to teach +me how to win the lady of my choice." + +"Jewels have been known to plead rather well," said Valentine. + +"I have tried them," said the Duke. + +"The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her +some more." + +"The chief difficulty," pursued the Duke, "is this. The lady is +promised to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with +her. She is, in fact, locked up." + +"Then your Grace should propose an elopement," said Valentine. +"Try a rope ladder." + +"But how should I carry it?" asked the Duke. + +"A rope ladder is light," said Valentine; "You can carry it in a +cloak." + +"Like yours?" + +"Yes, your Grace." + +"Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me." + +Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to +lend his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew +from the pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly +opened it, and read these words: "Silvia, you shall be free +to-night." + +"Indeed," he said, "and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, +but not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. +If you are in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die." + +Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. "Unless I look on Silvia +in the day," he said, "there is no day for me to look upon." + +Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite +of the first order. "Hope is a lover's staff," said Valentine's +betrayer; "walk hence with that." + +After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a +forest near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the +forest, however, the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the +travelers stand. They obeyed, and Valentine made so good an +impression upon his captors that they offered him his life on +condition that he became their captain. + +"I accept," said Valentine, "provided you release my servant, and +are not violent to women or the poor." + +The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand +chief. + +We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since +Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by +which she could see him. "Better wait for him to return," said +Lucetta, and she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to +hope that Lucetta would bear the blame of any rash and interesting +adventure. Julia therefore said that she intended to go to Milan +and dressed like a page. + +"You must cut off your hair then," said Lucetta, who thought that +at this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + +"I shall knot it up," was the disappointing rejoinder. + +Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but +Julia had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; +and when her toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as +one could wish to see. + +Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time +to hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + +"They are serenading the Lady Silvia," said a man to her. + +Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. +It was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + + "Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her + That she might admired be." + +Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow +thundered into her mind-- + + "Then to Silvia let us sing; + She excels each mortal thing." + +Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so +beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not +only false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved +him. She even went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus +engaged her. + +One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and +said, "Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I +should like the picture of her she promised me." + +Silvia had promised the picture, but she disliked Proteus. She +was obliged to talk to him because he was high in the favor of +her father, who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir +Thurio. Silvia had learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged +to a sweetheart in Verona; and when he said tender things to her, +she felt that he was disloyal in friendship as well as love. + +Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, "I will not wrong +the woman who gave it him by wearing it." + +"She thanks you," said Julia. + +"You know her, then?" said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of +herself that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + +Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received +it the worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had +not made up her mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + +Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + +The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled +Valentine, and he was not wrong. + +Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and +some servants. + +The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and +Julia (in her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw +Silvia, who had been taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being +led to their Captain. Proteus rescued her, and then said, "I have +saved you from death; give me one kind look." + +"O misery, to be helped by you!" cried Silvia. "I would rather be +a lion's breakfast." + +Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with +Silvia that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + +"O heaven!" cried Silvia. + +At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine +came crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his +beloved. Julia feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help +her false lover. But he struck no blow, he only said, "Proteus, +I am sorry I must never trust you more." + +Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, +"Forgive me! I grieve! I suffer!" + +"Then you are my friend once more," said the generous Valentine. +"If Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I +promise that I will stand aside and bless you both." + +These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine +revived her, and said, "What was the matter, boy?" + +"I remembered," fibbed Julia, "that I was charged to give a ring +to the Lady Silvia, and that I did not." + +"Well, give it to me," said Proteus. + +She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to +Julia before he left Verona. + +Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + +"I changed my shape when you changed your mind," said she. + +"But I love you again," said he. + +Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir +Thurio. + +"Forbear!" cried Valentine, sternly. "The Duke is sacred." + +Sir Thurio exclaimed, "There's Silvia; she's mine!" + +"Touch her, and you die!" said Valentine. + +"I should be a fool to risk anything for her," said Sir Thurio. + +"Then you are base," said the Duke. "Valentine, you are a brave +man. Your banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry +Silvia. You deserve her." + +"I thank your Grace," said Valentine, deeply moved, "and yet must +ask you one more boon." + +"I grant it," said the Duke. + +"Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are +better than their calling." + +"I pardon them and you," said the Duke. "Their work henceforth +shall be for wages." + +"What think you of this page, your Grace?" asked Valentine, indicating +Julia. + +The Duke glanced at her, and said, "I think the boy has grace in +him." + +"More grace than boy, say I," laughed Valentine, and the only +punishment which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against +love and friendship was the recital in his presence of the adventures +of Julia-Sebastian of Verona. + + + + +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + +In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of Rousillon +was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her +husband, and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to +Paris, hundreds of miles away. + +Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, +and eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could +make him, and would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a +selfish end. But a pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena +was in love with him. + +Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the +service of the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in +a few of her father's prescriptions. + +When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the +Countess, who told her that she was exactly the same to her as +her own child. Tears then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt +that the Countess made Bertram seem like a brother whom she could +never marry. The Countess guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena +confessed that Bertram was to her as the sun is to the day. + +She hoped, however, to win this sun by earning the gratitude of +the King of France, who suffered from a lingering illness, which +made him lame. The great doctors attached to the Court despaired +of curing him, but Helena had confidence in a prescription which +her father had used with success. + +Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, +and was allowed to see the King. + +He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. "It +would not become me," he said, "to apply to a simple maiden for +the relief which all the learned doctors cannot give me." + +"Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes," said Helena, and she +declared that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make +him well. + +"And if you succeed?" questioned the King. + +"Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom +I choose!" + +So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering +king. Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two +days the royal cripple could skip. + +He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in +the throne room of his palace. Well might the country girl have +been dazzled, and seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among +the handsome young noblemen before her. But her eyes only wandered +till they found Bertram. Then she went up to him, and said, "I +dare not say I take you, but I am yours!" Raising her voice that +the King might hear, she added, "This is the Man!" + +"Bertram," said the King, "take her; she's your wife!" + +"My wife, my liege?" said Bertram. "I beg your Majesty to permit +me to choose a wife." + +"Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?" asked the +monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + +"Yes, your Majesty," replied Bertram; "but why should I marry a +girl who owes her breeding to my father's charity?" + +"You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title," +said the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came +to him, and he added, "Strange that you think so much of blood +when you could not distinguish your own from a beggar's if you +saw them mixed together in a bowl." + +"I cannot love her," asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, +"Urge him not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for +my country's sake." + +"My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience," said the King. +"Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of +whom you are so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your +answer?" + +Bertram bowed low and said, "Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by +your interest in her. I submit." + +"Take her by the band," said the King, "and tell her she is yours." + +Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was married to Helena. + +Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule +helped to sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to +his face that now he had a "kicky-wicky" his business was not to +fight but to stay at home. "Kicky-wicky" was only a silly epithet +for a wife, but it made Bertram feel he could not bear having a +wife, and that he must go to the war in Italy, though the King +had forbidden him. + +Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, +giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, +bidding her a cold good-bye. + +She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, "When you +can get the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but +against that 'when' I write 'never.'" + +Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and +said farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a +ring from his own finger, saying, "If you send this to me, I shall +know you are in trouble, and help you." + +She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have +made him wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to +Rousillon and handed her mother-in-law the second letter. It was +short and bitter. "I have run away," it said. "If the world be +broad enough, I will be always far away from her." + +"Cheer up," said the noble widow to the deserted wife. "I wash +his name out of my blood, and you alone are my child." + +The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram +to lay the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called "a +very tainted fellow." + +Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a +pilgrim, and, leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly +set out for Florence. + +On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the +Pilgrims' House of Rest, but the woman begged "the holy pilgrim" +to lodge with her. + +Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful +daughter named Diana. + +When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, "A countryman +of yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence." +But after a time, Diana had something to tell which was not at +all worthy of Helena's husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. +He did not hide the fact that he was married, but Diana heard +from Parolles that his wife was not worth caring for. + +The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform +her that she was the Countess Rousillon. + +"He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair," said the widow. + +Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and +of the same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, "Take +this purse of gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand +crowns if she will help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise +to give a lock of her hair to my husband if he will give her the +ring which he wears on his finger. It is an ancestral ring. Five +Counts of Rousillon have worn it, yet he will yield it up for a +lock of your daughter's hair. Let your daughter insist that he +shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark room, and agree in +advance that she shall not speak a single word." + +The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. +She said at last, "I consent, if Diana is willing." + +Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting +off a lock of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing +to Bertram that he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to +follow her into the dark room. At the time appointed he came with +a sharp knife, and felt a sweet face touch his as he cut off the +lock of hair, and he left the room satisfied, like a man who is +filled with renown, and on his finger was a ring which the girl +in the dark room had given him. + +The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught +Bertram that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call +Helena his "kicky-wicky" was far less courageous than a wife. +Parolles was such a boaster, and so fond of trimmmgs to his clothes, +that the French officers played him a trick to discover what he +was made of. He had lost his drum, and had said that he would +regain it unless he was killed in the attempt. His attempt was +a very poor one, and he was inventing the story of a heroic failure, +when he was surrounded and disarmed. + +"Portotartarossa," said a French lord. + +"What horrible lingo is this?" thought Parolles, who had been +blindfolded. + +"He's calling for the tortures," said a French man, affecting to +act as interpreter. "What will you say without 'em?" + +"As much," replied Parolles, "as I could possibly say if you pinched +me like a pasty." He was as good as his word. He told them how +many there were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he +refreshed them with spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + +Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles +told Diana that he was a fool. + +"This is your devoted friend," said a French lord. + +"He is a cat to me now," said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug +pets. + +Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, +and was not addicted to boasting. + +We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of +her death, which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon +by Lafeu, a lord who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to +Bertram. + +The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed +for Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it +accomplished. + +"His great offense is dead," he said. "Let Bertram approach me." + +Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, +and said that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he +married Helena, he would have prized his wife, whom he now loved +when it was too late. + +"Love that is late offends the Great Sender," said the King. +"Forget sweet Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen." + +Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, +"It's Helena's!" + +"It's not!" said Bertram. + +Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, "This is +the ring I gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she +needed help. So you had the cunning to get from her what could +help her most." + +Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother +said it was. + +"You lie!" exclaimed the King. "Seize him, guards!" but even while +they were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he +thought Diana had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A +gentleman now entered, craving permission to deliver a petition +to the King. It was a petition signed Diana Capilet, and it begged +that the King would order Bertram to marry her whom he had deserted +after winning her love. + +"I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than take Bertram now," said +Lafeu. + +"Admit the petitioner," said the King. + +Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied +that Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her +life was spent in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of +gentlewoman it was to whom he gave, as to her he gave, the ring +of his ancestors now missing from his finger? + +Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning +generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + +"Do I see reality?" asked the King. + +"O pardon! pardon!" cried Bertram. + +She held up his ancestral ring. "Now that I have this," said she, +"will you love me, Bertram?" + +"To the end of my life," cried he. + +"My eyes smell onions," said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling +in them. + +The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very +shy young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake +she had wished to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, +but to himself. His pride was now in shreds, and it is believed +that he made a husband of some sort after all. + + + + +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES. + + + + [Key.- + + a,e,i,o,u -- as in hat, bet, it, hot, hut; + â,ê,î,ô,û -- as in ate, mote, mite, mote, mute; + å -- as in America, freeman, coward; + ë -- as in her, fern; + ü -- as in burn, furl. ] + + Adriana (ad-ri-â'-nå) + AEgeon (ê'-ge-on) + AEmilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Alcibiades (al-si-bî'-å-dêz) + Aliena (â-li-ê'-nå) + Angelo (an'-je-lô) + Antioch (an'-ti-ok) + Antiochus (an-tî'-o-kus) + Antipholus (an-tif'-o-lus) + Antonio (an-tô'-ni-ô) + Apemantus (ap-e-man'-tus) + Apollo (å-pol'-ô) + Ariel (â'ri-el) + Arragon (ar'-å-gon) + + Banquo (ban'-kwô) + Baptista (bap-tis'-tå) + Bassanio (bas-sa'-ni-ô) + Beatrice (bê'å-tris) + Bellario (bel-lâ'-ri-ô) + Bellarius (bel-lâ'-ri-us) + Benedick (ben'-e-dik) + Benvolio (ben-vô'-li-ô) + Bertram (bër'-tram) + Bianca (bê-an'-kå) + Borachio (bô-rach'-i-ô) + Brabantio (brå-ban'chô) + Burgundy (bür'-gun-di) + + Caliban (kal'-i-ban) + Camillo (kå-mil'-ô) + Capulet (kap'-û-let) + Cassio (kas'-i-ô) + Celia (sê'-li-å) + Centaur (sen'-tawr) + Cerimon (sê'-ri-mon) + Cesario (se-sâ'-ri-ô) + Claudio (klaw'-di-ô) + Claudius (klaw'-di-us) + Cordelia (kawr-dê'-li-å) + Cornwall (kawrn'-wawl) + Cymbeline (sim'-be-lên) + + Demetrius (de-mê'-tri-us) + Desdemona (des-de-mô-nå) + Diana (dî-an'-å) + Dionyza (dî-ô-nî'-zå) + Donalbain (don'-al-ban) + Doricles (dor'-i-klêz) + Dromio (drô'-mi-ô) + Duncan (dung'-kån) + + Emilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Ephesus (ef'e-sus) + Escalus (es'-kå-lus) + + Ferdinand (fër'-di-nand) + Flaminius (flå-min'-i-us) + Flavius (flâ'-vi-us) + Fleance (flê'-ans) + Florizel (flor'-i-zel) + + Ganymede (gan'-i-mêd) + Giulio (jû'-li-ô) + Goneril (gon'-e-ril) + Gonzalo (gon-zah'-lô) + + Helena (hel'-e-nå) + Helicanus (hel-i-kâ'nus) + Hercules (hër'kû-lêz) + Hermia (hër'mi-å) + Hermione (hër-mî'-o-nê) + Horatio (hô-râ'-shi-ô) + Hortensio (hor-ten'-si-ô) + + Iachimo (yak'-i-mô) + Iago (ê-ah-gô) + Illyria ((il-lir'-i-å) + Imogen (im'-o-jen) + + Jessica (jes'-i-kå) + Juliet (ju'li-et) + + Laertes (lâ-ër'-têz) + Lafeu (lah-fu') + Lear (lêr) + Leodovico (lê-ô-dô'-vi-kô) + Leonato (lê-ô-nâ'-tô) + Leontes (lê-on-têz) + Luciana (lû-shi-â'nå) + Lucio (lû'-shi-ô) + Lucius (lû'-shi-us) + Lucullus (lû-kul'-us) + Lysander (lî-san'-dër) + Lysimachus (lî-sim'-å-kus) + + Macbeth (mak-beth') + Magdalen (mag'-då-len) + Malcolm (mal'-kum) + Malvolio (mal-vô'li-ô) + Mantua (man-'tû-å) + Mariana (mah-ri-â'-na) + Menaphon (men'-å-fon) + Mercutio (mer-kû'-shi-ô) + Messina (mes-sê'-nah) + Milan (mil'-ån) + Miranda (mî-ran'-då) + Mitylene (mit-ê-lê'-nê) + Montagu (mon'-tå-gû) + Montano (mon-tah'-nô) + + Oberon (ob'-ër-on) + Olivia (ô-liv'-i-å) + Ophelia (ô-fêl'-i-å or o-fêl'-yå) + Orlando (awr-lan'-dô) + Orsino (awr-sê'-nô) + Othello (ô-thel'-ô) + + Parolles (pa-rol'-êz) + Paulina (paw-lî'-nå) + Pentapolis (pen-tap'-o-lis) + Perdita (për'-di-tå) + Pericles (per'-i-klêz) + Petruchio (pe-trû'-chi-ô) + Phoenix (fê'-niks) + Pisanio (pê-sah'-ni-ô) + Polixines (pô-liks'-e-nêz) + Polonius (pô-lô'-ni-us) + Portia (pôr'-shi-å) + Proteus (prô'-te-us or prô'-tûs) + + Regan (rê'-gån) + Roderigo (rô-der'-i-gô) + Romano (rô-mah'-nô) + Romeo (rô'-me-ô) + Rosalind (roz'-å-lind) + Rosaline (roz'-å-lin) + Rousillon (ru-sê-lyawng') + + Sebastian (se-bas'-ti-ån) + Sempronius (sem-prô'-ni-us) + Simonides (si-mon'-i-dêz) + Solinus (sô-lî'-nus) + Sycorax (sî'-ko-raks) + Syracuse (sir-å-kus) + + Thaisa (tha-is'-å) + Thaliard (thâ'-li-ård) + Thurio (thû'-ri-ô) + Timon (tî'-mon) + Titania (tî-tan'-i-å) + Tybalt (tib'-ålt) + + Ursula (ur'-sû-lå) + + Venetian (ve-nê'-shån) + Venice (ven'-is) + Ventidius (ven-tid'-i-us) + Verona (vâ-rô'-nå) + Vicentio (vê-sen'-shi-ô) + + + + + +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + +ACTION. + + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than their ears. + + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + + + + +ADVERSITY. + + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + + As You Like It -- II. 1. + + + That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm. + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couched. + + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + + + + + +ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + Hamlet -- I. 3. + + + + +AGE. + + My May of life Is + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + + Macbeth -- V. 3. + + + + +AMBITION. + + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I + hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but + a shadow's shadow. + + Hamlet -- II 2. + + + I charge thee fling away ambition; + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +ANGER. + + Anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + Self-mettle tires him. + + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + + + + +ARROGANCE. + + There are a sort of men, whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a willful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say, " I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!" + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore are reputed wise + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +AUTHORITY. + + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + And the creature run from the cur? + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + a dog's obeyed in office. + + King Lear -- IV. 6. + + + Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + Merciful heaven! + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + Drest in a little brief authority -- + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + As make the angels weep. + + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + + + +BEAUTY. + + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + of it ever fair. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + + +BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + + It so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + The virtue, that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + + + + +BRAGGARTS. + + It will come to pass, + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + + + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + are they not monsters? + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +CALUMNY. + + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + thou shalt not escape calumny. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + + + + +CEREMONY. + + Ceremony + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + + + + +COMFORT. + + Men + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + To be so moral, when he shall endure + The like himself. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + + Idem -- II. + + + + +COMPARISON. + + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + Until a king be by; and then his state + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + Into the main of waters. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +CONSCIENCE. + + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENT. + + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen; my crown is called "content"; + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTION. + + How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + When two authorities are set up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + The one by the other. + + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + + + + +COWARDS. + + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + + +CUSTOM. + + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + A custom + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +DEATH. + + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + For that's the end of human misery. + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + + + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The dread of something after death, + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others we know not of. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. + + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + + + + +DECEPTION. + + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + + + + +DEEDS. + + Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + + Hamlet -- I. 2. + + + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + Makes deeds ill done! + + King John -- IV. 2. + + + + +DELAY. + + That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many, + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. + + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + + + + +DELUSION. + + For love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + + +DISCRETION. + + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. + + Macbeth -- III. 4. + + + + +DRUNKENNESS. + + Boundless intemperance. + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. + + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + + + + +DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + + 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 checked for silence, + But never taxed for speech. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +EQUIVOCATION. + + But yet + I do not like but yet, it does allay + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +EXCESS. + + A surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + + + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + and the ingredient is a devil. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +FALSEHOOD. + + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + Three things that women hold in hate. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + + + + +FEAR. + + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + + + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + + +FEASTS. + + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + + + + +FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + Than the sea-monster. + + King Lear -- I. 4. + + + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +FORETHOUGHT. + + Determine on some course, + More than a wild exposure to each cause + That starts i' the way before thee. + + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + + + + +FORTITUDE. + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + + + + +FORTUNE. + + When fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + + King John -- III. 4. + + + + +GREATNESS. + + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + through another man's eyes. + + As You Like It -- V. 2. + + + + +HONESTY. + + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + when a knave is not. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + + + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +HYPOCRISY. + + Devils soonest tempt, + resembling spirits of light. + + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + + + One may smile, and smile, + and be a villain. + + Hamlet -- I. 5. + + + + + +INNOCENCE. + + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + + + + +INSINUATIONS. + + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + That calumny doth use;-- + For calumny will sear + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + + + + +JEALOUSY. + + Trifles, light as air, + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + O beware of jealousy: + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + The meat it feeds on. + + Idem. + + + + +JESTS. + + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + of him that hears it. + + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + + + He jests at scars, + that never felt a wound. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + + +JUDGMENT. + + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + That no king can corrupt. + + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + + + + +LIFE. + + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Macbeth -- V. 5. + + + We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. + + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + + + + +LOVE. + + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + + + Sweet love, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The course of true-love + never did run smooth. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + + + Love looks not with the eyes, + but with the mind. + + Idem. + + + She never told her love,-- + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + + + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + + + + +MAN. + + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + how express and admirable! in action, how like + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +MERCY. + + The quality of mercy is not strained: + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown: + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + When mercy seasons justice. + Consider this,-- + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. + + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + + + + +MERIT. + + Who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + + + + +MODESTY. + + It is the witness still of excellency, + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + + + + +MORAL CONQUEST. + + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + That war against your own affections, + And the huge army of the world's desires. + + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + + + + +MURDER. + + The great King of kings + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + That thou shalt do no murder. + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +MUSIC. + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +NAMES. + + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + By any other name would smell as sweet. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + Good name, in man, and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he, that filches from me my good name, + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + + +NATURE. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves, when they be felt. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +OFFICE. + + 'Tis the curse of service; + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + Not by the old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. + + Othello -- I. 1. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY. + + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + Shall never find it more. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + + + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + + + + +OPPRESSION. + + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct them. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PAST AND FUTURE. + + O thoughts of men accurst! + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + + + + +PATIENCE. + + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +PEACE. + + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + + + I will use the olive with my sword: + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + + + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PENITENCE. + + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + + + + +PLAYERS. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts. + + As You Like It -- II. 7. + + + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + not to speak it profanely, that, + neither having the accent of Christians, + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + have so strutted, and bellowed, + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + had made men and not made them well, + they imitated humanity so abominably. + + Hamlet -- III. 2. + + + + +POMP. + + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + + + + +PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + the cripple. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + + + + +PRINCES AND TITLES. + + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honor for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imaginations, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, between their titles, and low name, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + + +QUARRELS. + + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + + + + +RAGE. + + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +REPENTANCE. + + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + + + + +REPUTATION. + + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +RETRIBUTION. + + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + + King Lear -- V. S. + + + If these men have defeated the law, + and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, + they have no wings to fly from God. + + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + + + + +SCARS. + + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + is a good livery of honor. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + + + To such as boasting show their scars, + A mock is due. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + + + + +SELF-CONQUEST. + + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + + King John -- III. 1. + + + + +SELF-EXERTION. + + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + The fault is not in our stars, + But in ourselves. + + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +SILENCE. + + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + + + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades, when speaking fails. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + + + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + + + + +SLANDER. + + Slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +SLEEP. + + The innocent sleep; + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + Macbeth -- II. 2. + + + + +SUICIDE. + + Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine, + That cravens my weak hand. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +TEMPERANCE. + + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility: + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. + + As You Like It -- II. 3. + + + + +THEORY AND PRACTICE. + + There was never yet philosopher, + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + + +TREACHERY. + + Though those, that are betrayed, + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +VALOR. + + The better part of valor is--discretion. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + + + When Valor preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + + + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + + + + +WAR. + + Take care + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + + + + +WELCOME. + + Welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WINE. + + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + to steal away their brains! + that we should with joy, revel, + pleasure, and applause, + transform ourselves into beasts! + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +WOMAN. + + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WORDS. + + Words without thoughts + never to heaven go. + + Hamlet -- III. 3. + + + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +WORLDLY CARE. + + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +WORLDLY HONORS. + + Not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + diff --git a/old/old/bsshk10.zip b/old/old/bsshk10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1dbfe4b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/bsshk10.zip diff --git a/old/old/bsshk11h.zip b/old/old/bsshk11h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7650e49 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/bsshk11h.zip diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.txt b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d608ab --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7422 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Posting Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #1430] +Release Date: August, 1998 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + + + + +Produced by Morrie Wilson and James Rose + + + + + +BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE + +By E. Nesbit + + + + + “It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has + been imitated by all succeeding writers; and it may be + doubted whether from all his successors more maxims of + theoretical knowledge, or more rules of practical prudence + can be collected than he alone has given to his country.”-- + Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + + + + +PREFACE + + + +The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the +purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + +Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere +science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the +whole body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, +generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little +stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and +proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the +English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage +which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though +often unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, +wrote of him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the +highroad of human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths +of feeling and sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, +sentimental thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant +adventuresses--no delicate entanglements of situation, in which +the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised under the +superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He flattered no bad +passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, trifled with no just +and generous principle. While causing us to laugh at folly, and shudder +at crime, he still preserves our love for our fellow-beings, and our +reverence for ourselves. + +Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with +all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of +that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and +clear waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland +solitudes, and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of +poetry,--and with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to +mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in +the midst of his most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of +sunshine on rocks and ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or +repulsive, and reminding us of the existence of purer and brighter +elements. + +These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of +Shakespeare, next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the +classics of English literature. “So extensively have the characters of +Shakespeare been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” + says an American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the +great body of English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of +these dramas is often a cause of embarrassment.” + +But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in +words that little folks cannot understand. + +Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained +in the plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can +understand and enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of +these Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare. + +And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any +unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared +and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. +To which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified +in alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the +world's greatest dramatist. + +E. T. R. + + + + +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. + + + +In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, +a market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, +1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. +The entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + +The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three +days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this +fact. + +The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always +spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is +spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist +it reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is +printed “Shakespeare.” + +Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in +which the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, +and in the council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is +introduced one hundred and sixty-six times during the period that +the dramatist's father was a member of the municipal body, there are +fourteen different spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among +them. + +Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have +been unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of +ten were content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not +specially to his discredit. + +The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation +of Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a +woolstapler, and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have +been all of these simultaneously or at different times, or that if +he could not properly be called any one of them, the nature of his +occupation was such as to make it easy to understand how the various +traditions sprang up. He was a landed proprietor and cultivator of his +own land even before his marriage, and he received with his wife, who +was Mary Arden, daughter of a country gentleman, the estate of Asbies, +56 acres in extent. William was the third child. The two older than he +were daughters, and both probably died in infancy. After him was born +three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve years at least, after +Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in easy circumstances. In +the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief magistrate of Stratford, +and for many years afterwards he held the position of alderman as he +had done for three years before. To the completion of his tenth year, +therefore, it is natural to suppose that William Shakespeare would get +the best education that Stratford could afford. The free school of the +town was open to all boys and like all the grammar-schools of that time, +was under the direction of men who, as graduates of the universities, +were qualified to diffuse that sound scholarship which was once the +boast of England. There is no record of Shakespeare's having been at +this school, but there can be no rational doubt that he was educated +there. His father could not have procured for him a better education +anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's works without being +influenced by the old traditional theory that he had received a very +narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must have been +solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught in the +grammar schools. + +There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not +be without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. +Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic +towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the +grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of +singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut +out from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great +highway, and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its +markets. The eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for +observation. But nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his +birth to his marriage to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date +nothing but the birth of three children until we find him an actor in +London about 1589. + +How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have +no means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very +soon after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which +he is known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter +older plays not up to the standard that was required at the time was +a common practice even among the best dramatists of the day, and +Shakespeare's abilities would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted +for this kind of work. When the alterations in plays originally composed +by other writers became very extensive, the work of adaptation would +become in reality a work of creation. And this is exactly what we have +examples of in a few of Shakespeare's early works, which are known to +have been founded on older plays. + +It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's +greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the +finest minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers +to an elucidation of their worth. + +Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had +died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived +him till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven +years. His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, +in 1607, married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of +this marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first +Thomas Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by +either marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of +February, 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by +whom she had three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There +are thus no direct descendants of Shakespeare. + +Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him +in other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, +but their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the +man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He +was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on +the second day after his death, on the north side of the chancel +of Stratford church. Over his grave there is a flat stone with this +inscription, said to have been written by himself: + + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare + To digg the dust encloased heare: + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, + And curst be he yt moves my bones. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . 7 + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + THE TEMPEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + AS YOU LIKE IT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + THE WINTER'S TALE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + KING LEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 + TWELFTH NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + PERICLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 + HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 + CYMBELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + TIMON OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + MEASURE FOR MEASURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 + TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES . . . . . . . . 286 + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES . . . . . . . 20 + THE QUARREL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 + HELENA IN THE WOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL . . . . . . . . . 30 + TITANIA AWAKES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 + PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . 36 + PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . 39 + PLAYING CHESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 + ROSALIND AND CELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN . . . . . . . . 47 + GANYMEDE FAINTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 + LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 + LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . 60 + FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING . . . . . . . . . 62 + HERMOINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 + CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE . . . . . . . . 67 + GONERIL AND REGAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 + CORDELIA IN PRISON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 + VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA . . . . . . . . 76 + “YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE” . . . . . . . . . . 78 + CLAUDIA AND HERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + HERO AND URSULA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + BENEDICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 + FRIAR FRANCIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 + MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . 111 + THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD . . . . . . . . . 115 + ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 + PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT . . . . . . . . 122 + PERICLES AND MARINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 + THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS . . . . . . . . . . . 131 + POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . 135 + DROWNING OF OPHELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 + IACHIMO AND IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 + IMOGEN STUPEFIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 + IMOGEN AND LEONATUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 + THE THREE WITCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + FROM “MACBETH” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 + LADY MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + KING AND QUEEN MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 + MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . . . . 175 + THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . 178 + AEMILIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 + THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 + ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 + JESSICA LEAVING HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 + BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING . . . . . . . . . 192 + POET READING TO TIMON . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE . . . . . . . 197 + “NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX” . . . . . . . . . . 200 + TIMON GROWS SULLEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 + OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES . . . 211 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 + THE DRINK OF WINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 + CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF . . . . . . . . 222 + DESDEMONA WEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 + THE MUSIC MASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 + KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS . . . . . . 232 + PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER . . . . 235 + THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS . . . . . . . . 244 + ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO . . . . . . . . . 247 + “YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE” . . . . . . . 253 + VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA . . . . . 258 + SILVIA READING THE LETTER . . . . . . . . . . 259 + THE SERENADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 + ONE OF THE OUTLAWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 + HELENA AND BERTRAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + HELENA AND THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 + READING BERTRAM'S LETTER . . . . . . . . . . . 281 + HELENA AND THE WIDOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 + + + + +LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES + + PAGE + WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + FERDINAND AND MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . . . . . . . 54 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + CHOOSING THE CASKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + + + + + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + +Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to marry +another man, named Demetrius. + +Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any +girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put +to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as +he wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to +ask that she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke +gave her four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if +she still refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + +Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to +do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place +beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and +marry her. But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she +was going to do. + +Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart long before his marriage with +Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous +people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia's fault that +Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. She knew +that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she was, to the +wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow him, and +at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to him, and +betrayed her friend's secret. + +Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two +had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if +one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were +the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies +are very wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as +mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the +days were long, had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They +never met without saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded +each other so dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for +fear, would creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + +So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in +the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered +through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in +another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom +Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to +follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give +him up. + +On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the +fairies met. + +“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + +“What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with +your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with +him now.” + +“It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + +“Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant +and suitor.” + +“Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys +not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + +And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + +“Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you +leave this wood.” + +Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of +mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and +get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer +sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at +them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to +sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going +to drink. + +“Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called +Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the +eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the +first thing they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on +my Titania's eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she +sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a +busy ape.” + +While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor +Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all +his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love +her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor +Helena, and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow +Demetrius and put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love +Helena when he woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So +Puck set off, and wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but +Lysander, on whose eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw +not his own Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking +for the cruel Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left +his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. + +When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the wood +trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what he had done, +and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and set about looking +for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the juice on his eyes. +And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also Helena. So now +Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the wood, and it +was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done before. The +end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and +Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme +to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + +“These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night +with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the +other. When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this +other herb on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his +old love. Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will +all think that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when +this is done, all will be well with them.” + +So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep +without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, +and said:-- + + “When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill.” + +Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild thyme, +oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There +Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin +of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, +saying:-- + + “What thou seest when thou wake, + Do it for thy true love take.” + +Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was a +stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood +to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped +an ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. +Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What +angel is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + +“If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for +me,” said the foolish clown. + +“Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the +love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful +and delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. +“Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + +So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, +and Mustardseed. + +“You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with +apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. +Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of +painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + +“I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + +“Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke +your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and +kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + +“Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not +care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having +fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + +“Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + +“Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle +yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + +“Ready,” said Mustardseed. + +“Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. +I must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the +face.” + +“Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + +“I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's +head made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + +“Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + +“I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. +“But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to +sleep.” + +Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + +And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing +kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey's head. + +And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to +give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took +pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her +pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed +clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + +Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish +his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + +Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved +each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and +Helena had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + +As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could +meet in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + +So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the +fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this +very day. + + + + +THE TEMPEST + + + +Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who lived +among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his brother +Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was +ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, +to gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the +people bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, +Alonso, King of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom +with all its honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, +and when they were far away from land, forced him into a little boat +with no tackle, mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his +little daughter, Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with +him, and sailed away, leaving them to their fate. + +But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful +master, Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but +much could be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy +lord, whose name was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh +water, provisions, and clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, +some of his precious books. + +The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed +in safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under +the spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks +of trees all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before +Prospero was cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was +the chief, still remained in their prisons. + +Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost +entirely to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed +his brother to manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the +imprisoned spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were +more truly his subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he +treated them kindly as long as they did his bidding, and he exercised +his power over them wisely and well. One creature alone he found it +necessary to treat with harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the +wicked old witch, a hideous, deformed monster, horrible to look on, and +vicious and brutal in all his habits. + +When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it +chanced that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and +Ferdinand, his son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their +ship came near Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, +raised by his art a great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave +themselves up for lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped +into the sea, and, as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But +Ariel brought him safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although +they were washed overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of +the island, and the good ship herself, which they all thought had been +wrecked, lay at anchor in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such +wonders could Prospero and his spirits perform. + +While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero showed his daughter the brave +ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and told her that it was filled +with living human beings like themselves. She, in pity of their lives, +prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. Then her father bade +her to have no fear, for he intended to save every one of them. + +Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, +and that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, +Antonio and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his +hands. + +When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for +Ariel was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed +for his complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being +threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when +Sycorax ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the +master who had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and +promised faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + +“Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + +Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search +of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near +him, singing the while-- + + “Come unto these yellow sands + And then take hands: + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + (The wild waves whist), + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + +And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a +solemn air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his +eyes, for thus they ran-- + + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made. + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + +And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of +Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. +For Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen +any human being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with +reverence in her eyes, and love in her secret heart. + +“I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I +ever saw so noble!” + +And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + +“Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + +Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for +scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to +make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly +delighted, pretended wrath. + +“You come here as a spy,” he said to Ferdinand. “I will manacle your +neck and feet together, and you shall feed on fresh water mussels, +withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to drink. Follow.” + +“No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero +charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and +Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he +harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There +he set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of +timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his +toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + +She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would +not let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and +she, hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + +Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he +gave his consent to their marriage. + +“Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + +In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island +were plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand +being dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on +Alonso's death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose +while their victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + +Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and +just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder +and lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet +disappeared. Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + +Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his +cell, where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly +repenting them of their sins. + +Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound +I'll drown my book.” + +So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in +his proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he +forgave them and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly +committed him and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. +Alonso, who seemed sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented +the loss of his heir. But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them +Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet +his loved son again, and when he heard that the fair maid with whom +Ferdinand was playing was Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks +had plighted their troth, he said-- + +“Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart that +doth not wish you joy.” + +So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they +all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. +Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the +rejoicings at the wedding. + +Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own +dukedom, where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. +He practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not +only because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his +bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took +no vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + +As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander +where he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer, merrily: + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + + + + +AS YOU LIKE IT + + + +There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom that +should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His +brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold +forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + +The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, remained with Celia, Frederick's +daughter, and the two loved each other more than most sisters. One day +there was a wrestling match at Court, and Rosalind and Celia went to see +it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was there, who had killed many men +in contests of this kind. Orlando, the young man he was to wrestle with, +was so slender and youthful, that Rosalind and Celia thought he would +surely be killed, as others had been; so they spoke to him, and asked +him not to attempt so dangerous an adventure; but the only effect of +their words was to make him wish more to come off well in the encounter, +so as to win praise from such sweet ladies. + +Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance +by his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until +he saw Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now +the sight of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that +he did marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the +wrestler had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased +with his courage, and asked his name. + +“My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + +Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to +the banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando +was, and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that +this handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and +as they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another +kind word to the brave young man. + +“Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for +me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + +Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the +handsome wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first +sight. + +“Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + +“Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than +myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + +“With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + +“You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she +asked. + +“Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you are banished. If within ten +days you are found within twenty miles of my Court, you die.” + +So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest +of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was +rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as +a young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said +that she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very +tired when at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were +sitting on the grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede +asked him if he could get them food. He did so, and told them that +a shepherd's flocks and house were to be sold. They bought these and +settled down as shepherd and shepherdess in the forest. + +In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's +life, Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the +rightful Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando +could think of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest +carving her name on trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on +the bushes, and there Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met +them, but he did not know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked +the pretty shepherd youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her +he loved. + +“There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and +hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him +of his folly.” + +Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If +you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I +will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, +till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + +And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to +her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had +the fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the +right ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + +One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep +on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for +the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on +anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and +saw that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his +life. He fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's +life. + +While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, +whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk +of his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged +Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The +lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to +see the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + +Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena +was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she +fell in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger +Orlando had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said +truly enough, “I should have been a woman by right.” + +Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love +Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and +live here as a shepherd.” + +“Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke +and his friends.” + +When Orlando told Ganymede how his brother was to be married on the +morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness +through another man's eyes.” + +Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his +voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother +marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + +Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, +and Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + +Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter +Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the +Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + +“And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. +“That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + +Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's +clothes again, and after a while came back. + +She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + +Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If +there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + +“I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to +Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + +So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they +lived happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For +Frederick had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, +and so gave back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a +monastery to pray for forgiveness. + +The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A +shepherd and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she +was herself disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and +all with such pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere +within four walls, but only in the beautiful green wood. + + + + +THE WINTER'S TALE + + + +Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, +King of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated +when they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over +his kingdom. After many years, when each was married and had a son, +Polixenes came to stay with Leontes in Sicily. + +Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into +his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than +she did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, +nothing could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to +put a poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this +wicked action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. +He then told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from +the Court of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo +lived on as Polixenes' friend and counselor. + +Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the +throne, died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly +treated. + +While the Queen was in prison she had a little baby, and a friend of +hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in its best, and took it to +show the King, thinking that the sight of his helpless little daughter +would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, who had never done him +any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than he deserved; but the +King would not look at the baby, and ordered Paulina's husband to take +it away in a ship, and leave it in the most desert and dreadful place +he could find, which Paulina's husband, very much against his will, was +obliged to do. + +Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring +Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except +Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, +Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But +he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that +they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + +“Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, +Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if +that which is lost be not found.” + +Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The +poor Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how +wicked and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were +with the Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina +came back in a few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + +Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his folly. His Queen was dead, +and the little daughter who might have been a comfort to him he had sent +away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life had nothing left for him +now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed in any sad years in +prayer and remorse. + +The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom +where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell +Leontes where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the +ship, he met a bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + +But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was +richly dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to +her cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble +parents. + +The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to +his wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more +teaching than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from +her royal mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different +from the other maidens in the village where she lived. + +One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was +bunting near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a +charming woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that +he was the Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he +was a private gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty +Perdita, he came almost daily to see her. + +The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every +day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that +the heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty +shepherd girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, +disguised himself, and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise +too, to the old shepherd's house. They arrived at the feast of +sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, they were made very welcome. +There was dancing going on, and a peddler was selling ribbons and laces +and gloves, which the young men bought for their sweethearts. + +Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, +but sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners +and great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of +his old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + +“This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green +sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than +herself--too noble for this place.” + +And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + +But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the +strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King +made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw +Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and +with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed +with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + +Camillo had long known how sorry Leontes was for that foolish madness of +his, and he longed to go back to Sicily to see his old master. He now +proposed that the young people should go there and claim the protection +of Leontes. So they went, and the shepherd went with them, taking +Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and the paper he had found pinned to +her cloak. + +Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince +Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was +like the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + +“Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly +sent her from me.” + +When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who +had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the +child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told +his tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that +Perdita was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and +rewarded the good shepherd. + +Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with +Perdita, but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, +he was only too glad to give his consent. + +Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, +who should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's +happiness, was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for +a long time but-- + +“Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of +Bohemia, and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, +and then thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + +Then Paulina, who had been high all these years in the King's favor, +because of her kindness to the dead Queen Hermione, said--“I have a +statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a piece many years in +doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, Giulio Romano. I keep +it in a private house apart, and there, ever since you lost your Queen, +I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please your Majesty to go and +see the statue?” + +So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and +their attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple +curtain screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the +curtain, said-- + +“She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead +likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand +of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it +is--behold, and say, 'tis well.” + +And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The +King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said +nothing. + +“I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. +But speak, is it not like her?” + +“It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was +not so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + +“Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + +“Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her +to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + +And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + +“If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have +stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + +But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + +“No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it +moves.” + +“Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + +“I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives +presently.” + +“Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, “make me to think so twenty years +together.” + +“If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make +it come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by +wicked magic.” + +“Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + +And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from +its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's +neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was +no statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived +hidden, by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover +herself to her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she +could not quite forgive him till she knew what had become of her little +baby. + +Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it +was like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + +Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + +To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment +when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love +around him once again. + + + + +KING LEAR + + + +King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his +kingdom, and wished only to end his days quietly near his three +daughters. Two of his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany +and Cornwall; and the Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both +suitors for the hand of Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + +Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed +to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like +to know much you love me.” + +Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father +at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him +dearer than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, +beauty, and honor. + +“I love you as much as my sister and more,” professed Regan, “since I +care for nothing but my father's love.” + +Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his +youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he +said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you +say?” + +“Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + +“Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + +And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no +more, no less.” + +And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her +sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of +duty to their old father. + +“I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved +me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, +love you, and most honor you.” + +Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished her to make more extravagant +professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” he said, “be for ever a +stranger to my heart and me.” + +The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried +to say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided +the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only +keep a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by +turns. + +When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the +kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was +wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, +and our fair France.” + +“Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of +hers again.” + +So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having +ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now +went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her +father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred +knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful +to him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended +that they did not hear them. + +Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would +go into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of +a servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two +friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his +Fool, who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his +knights only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she +begged him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + +“My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I +will not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + +And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the +castle of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in +professions of attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in +undutiful conduct, saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on +him, and Goneril (who had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any +kindness to the old King) said five were too many, since her servants +could wait on him. + +Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, +he left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the +heath half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. +But presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last +persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the +Earl of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court +of France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + +Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. +Here she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a +crown of nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed +him, and Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + +“You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and +foolish.” + +And now he knew at last which of his children it was that had loved him +best, and who was worthy of his love. + +Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were +successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then +Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not +known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and +when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she +was, she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly +poison to her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + +But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and +though the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The +old King came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying +the body of his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + +And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with +her still in his arms, and died. + + + + +TWELFTH NIGHT + + + +Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful +Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained +his suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the +Duke, bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not +let the very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk +veiled; and all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she +would keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance. + +The Duke longed for someone to whom he could tell his sorrow, and repeat +over and over again the story of his love. And chance brought him such a +companion. For about this time a goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian +coast, and among those who reached land in safety were the captain and +a fair young maid, named Viola. But she was little grateful for being +rescued from the perils of the sea, since she feared that her twin +brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to her as the heart in her +bosom, and so like her that, but for the difference in their manner of +dress, one could hardly be told from the other. The captain, for her +comfort, told her that he had seen her brother bind himself “to a strong +mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus there was hope that he +might be saved. + +Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young +Duke Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, +she decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment +with him as a page. + +In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the +story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, +but soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that +his hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad +to woo Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when +she came to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious +man, sick, as his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger +admittance. + +Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, +and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her +instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, +“We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + +When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent +away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger +from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the +supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some +love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + +“He left this ring behind him,” she said, taking one from her finger. +“Tell him I will none of it.” + +Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly +well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness +that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart +for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + +It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease +the pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario +stood by his side. + +“Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + +“A little,” answered Viola. + +“What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + +“Of your complexion,” she answered. + +“What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + +To this came the pretty answer, “About your years, my lord.” + +“Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder +than herself.” + +And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + +By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead +his love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + +“If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + +“Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + +“But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My +father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, +“perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + +“And what is her history?” he asked. + +“A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let +concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she +pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like +Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + +“But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, +who had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty +fashion, said-- + +“I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall +I go to the lady?” + +“To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the +story, “and give her this jewel.” + +So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, +and openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her +hastily, saying-- + +“Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + +But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel +for other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, +sent a messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no +heart to refuse the request. + +But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the +jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who +at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. +This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew +to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel +between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced +Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The +poor page, in great terror, said-- + +“I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + +“Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me +first.” + +And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to +await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in +a great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her +sword, and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for +them both, at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, +and stopped the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she +might, while Sir Toby called after her-- + +“A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + +Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all +the dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he +determined to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he +passed Olivia's house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and +whom should he meet but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking +Sebastian for the cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and +walking up to him struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + +“Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting +back a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to +the rescue of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir +Toby's clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but +that Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and +with many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning +to Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with +many a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + +Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, +readily consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, +they were married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or +Sebastian was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + +Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her +himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her +door, and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for +leaving her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and +wholesome to her as howling after music. + +“Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + +“Still so constant,” she answered. + +Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on +her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said +to the page. + +And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a +thousand deaths would die.” + +A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, +husband, stay!” + +“Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + +“No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + +“Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + +And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared +Cesario to be the bridegroom. + +“O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, +but go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + +At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that +Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + +“I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on +me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + +Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their +thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + +“I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. +Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + +“One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, +looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + +“An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin +than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + +“I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind +waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, +“I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, +drowned Viola!'” + +Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she +was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is +akin to love. + +“Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never +shouldst love woman like to me.” + +“And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those +swearings keep true.” + +“Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, +and my fancy's queen.” + +Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian +a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving +wife. + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + +In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious +storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + +It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had +gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence +they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of +war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his +stepbrother Don John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + +Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. +Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in +love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + +One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in +a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated +through the open window. + +“Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” Claudio, asked, and Borachio +settled himself for comfortable listening. + +“Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her +color or height, and you spoil her.” + +“In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + +“Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She +is like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you +set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + +Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and +severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She +was wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not +therefore be dull. + +Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said +good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + +“I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to +tell.” + +“I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, +falling in with his humor. + +“I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his +Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love +with Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + +Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When +Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love +for Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a +masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio +loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his +consent to your union.” + +Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a +Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to +plead for you. + +Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he +had an enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's +stepbrother Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro +preferred him to Don John. + +It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation +which he had overheard. + +“I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when +Borachio ceased speaking. + +On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was +Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + +They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, +“Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + +“I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your +influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is +beneath him in rank.” + +“How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + +“I heard him swear his affection,” was the reply, and Borachio chimed in +with, “So did I too.” + +Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince +had betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust +to an agent.” + +Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk +exchange of opinions. + +“Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + +“Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + +“A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I +would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the +Garden of Eden.” + +But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor +Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and +brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing +before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you +like to go to church?” + +“To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry +Hero.” + +“Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart +thumped with joy. + +“And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor +Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + +“I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + +Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband +for Beatrice.” + +Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio +a lesson for nothing. + +Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he +was confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was +a fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this +plan of hate. + +Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. +“If,” he said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to +overhear us, that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, +see his good qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we +don't know he is listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful +Beatrice should be in love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he +will certainly be on his knees before her in a week or less.” + +So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat +down outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something +about a letter she wrote.” + +“Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night +and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words +'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + +“Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + +Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was +vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. +“I must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of +course; but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + +At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my +will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + +“Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + +“I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the +rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + +But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of +her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + +Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took +no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one +day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are +talking about her in the orchard.” + +Having said this, she felt as sure that Beatrice would overhear what was +meant for her ears as if she had made an appointment with her cousin. + +In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and +Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + +“But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, +“that Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + +“So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me +to tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + +“Why did you say that?” + +“Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and +scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making +game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away +like a covered fire.” + +“I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too +clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in +Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + +The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, +stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, +be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + +We now return to the plan of hate. + +The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered +a room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio +if he intended to be married to-morrow. + +“You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + +“He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will +show him if he will follow me.” + +They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of +Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + +Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it +to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; +she was Margaret. + +Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the +garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + +The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the +street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, +and told what he had done. + +A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a +thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore +arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in +prison. + +Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at +church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her +wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining +eyes. + +The priest was Friar Francis. + +Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this +lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + +Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, +Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + +Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be +married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + +“If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to +utter it,” said the Friar. + +“Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + +“Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, +'None,'” said Leonato. + +Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” + he continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied +Leonato, “as God gave her to me.” + +“And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this +gift?” “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the +giver.” + +“Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her +back.” + +These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don +Pedro and Don John. + +The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as +she could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except +her father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, +“Hence from her! Let her die!” + +But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the +soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + +Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew +not what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead +with shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, +and slander turns to remorse.” + +“The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a +retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + +Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do +believe your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + +“Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the +world as well as you?” + +“It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said +Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + +“Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + +“Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” + said Beatrice. “Farewell.” + +“Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + +During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were +examined by a constable called Dogberry. + +The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he +had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + +Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now +thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved +father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a +friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to +death, and I challenge you to combat.” + +“I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + +“You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + +Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were +feeling scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + +“The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + +“You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with +what weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + +Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I +can't carve a calf's head.” + +Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, +the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for +justice. + +The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + +“What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + +Borachio thought the moment a happy one for making a clean breast of it. +He laid the whole blame on Don John, who had disappeared. “The lady Hero +being dead,” he said, “I desire nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + +Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + +Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear +your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + +“Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may +impose.” + +“I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's +innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for +you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero +that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings +die.” + +“Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room +and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his +attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he +had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + +He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made +ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in +Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment. + +He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several +masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick +were present. + +Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + +“Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + +“Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + +“Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I +swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + +“Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + +“Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + +“Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + +The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick +interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is +Beatrice?” + +Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + +“Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + +“Moderately,” answered Benedick. + +“I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + +“Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + +“Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing +a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And +here,” said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the +pocket of Beatrice.” + +“A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! +Come, I will marry you, Beatrice.” + +“You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + +Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he +had married Claudio and Hero. + +“How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + +“Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you +will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but +as you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + +“My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; +but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + +And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was +able to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not +sweet against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu +and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, +in most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were +extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, +and instead of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of +pet of their quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu +wouldn't speak to a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet +to a Montagu--or if they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant +things, which often ended in a fight. And their relations and +servants were just as foolish, so that street fights and duels and +uncomfortablenesses of that kind were always growing out of the +Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + +Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper +and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to +it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named +Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he +loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and +he had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love +somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love +the wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends +Mercutio and Benvolio. + +Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young +Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their +velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars, and +the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones of price +set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, and though he +wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone could see by his +mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he was twelve +times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + +Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable +that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline +whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as +she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world +seemed vain and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying +this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing +his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at +once to his uncle, and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the +feast; but old Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to +any man under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young +man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + +In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in +sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent +for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his +heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. +So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + +Then Juliet said to her nurse: + +“Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + +“His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + +Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the +beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was +hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go +right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to +be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how +she loved Romeo. + +And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked +up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming +creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he +felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some +magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + +“Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what +does it matter what you are called?” + +“Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be +Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade +of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + +She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, +and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below +and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one +trying to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant +talk that lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music +their voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you +children may read it for yourselves some day. + +And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other +and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though +they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + +“I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + +And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + +Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. +Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + +The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, +and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet +without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + +So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he +purposed to do, the old woman took back a a message that all was well, +and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next +morning. + +The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their +marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old quarrel +between the Capulets and the Montagues. + +And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, +because he thought that when they were once married their parents +might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old +quarrel. + +So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar +Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to +come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder +to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to +his dear wife quietly and alone. + +But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + +Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the +Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in +the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no +wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and +he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this +friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had +killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + +So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's +cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young +husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the +flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they +parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know +when they should meet again. + +Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, +wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she +refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. +He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + +“I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two +days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and +not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, +and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. +Will you do this, or are you afraid?” + +“I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home +and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and +told her father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a +different story. + +Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about +inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone +stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little +time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because +he saw she was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her +husband Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of +her cousin Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else +to think about. + +Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her +for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out +suddenly-- + +“Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was +born!” + +Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the +bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their +weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a +marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a +letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been +well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + +But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of the +marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her funeral, and +hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife was dead and lying in +the grave. + +“Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side +to-night.” + +And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He +hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a +vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps +that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a +voice behind him calling on him to stop. + +It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + +“How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you +vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + +Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + +“You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must +die.” + +“I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle +youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better +than myself--go--leave me here--” + +Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon,” and Romeo, +in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, and Paris was +killed. + +As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + +“Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with +Juliet!” + +And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + +And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear +Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held +her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, +while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her +awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and +wife. + +Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had +happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband +and her friend both dead beside her. + +The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and +Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She +saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and +since no poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust +it through her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's +breast, she died. And here ends the story of these faithful and most +unhappy lovers. + + * * * * * * * + +And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had +befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief +their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the +bodies of their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship +and forgiveness. + + + + +PERICLES + + + +Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an enemy of +Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great was the +danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty counselor, +Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a time. He +came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his father, +he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing Helicanus +Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving his +kingdom was soon made clear. + +Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from +Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The +faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked +lord, and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the +danger which threatened him. + +The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, +feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But +a dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel +was wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised +and wet and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of +Pentapolis, the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, +he looked for nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, +coming down to the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade +him be of good cheer. + +“Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have +flesh for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and +flapjacks, and thou shalt be welcome.” + +They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going +to the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his +daughter, the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + +“Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make +one there.” + +As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it +dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it +in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, +he blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, +which had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen +to let him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the +tournament, promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would +reward them well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully +equipped, Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + +In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the +wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. +Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he +came; and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, +but he did not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he +knew that if once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life +would not be worth a pin's purchase. + +Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with +his courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter +to have her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger +knight or die. + +Thus Pericles became the husband of the fair lady for whose sake he +had striven with the knights who came in all their bravery to joust and +tourney for her love. + +Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, +hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant +throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become +their King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. +Moreover, he sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing +Pericles. + +Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King +there, told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, +and that, Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from +returning to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law +who he really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly +rejoiced to know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his +own right. So Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. +But once more the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke +out, and while it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that +a little daughter was born to him. This news would have made his heart +glad indeed, but that the servant went on to add that his wife--his +dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + +While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, +the sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown +overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long +as a dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest +with spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote +these lines: + + “Here I give to understand + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + I, King Pericles, have lost + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a King; + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!” + +Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by and +by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of a +lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he +saw how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took +immediate steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, +who had been thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling +sure that she would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the +world, and became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + +While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his +little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at +sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, +the King sailed for his own dominions. + +Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and +wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more +accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to +take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of +her servants to take her away and kill her. This villain would have done +so, but that he was interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried +Marina off to sea with them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold +her as a slave. Yet such was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, +that she soon became honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, +fell deep in love with her, and would have married her, but that he +thought she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in +his high position. + +The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was +really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it +to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see +his much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was +terrible to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed +never to wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion +erected on deck, and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke +word to none. + +At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and +Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel +came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he +bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King +from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade +the King to speak, promising whatever reward she would, if she +succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and +sang to her poor grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he +made no sign. So presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might +equal his, for, though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that +stood equal to mighty kings. + +Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked +up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his +lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her +tell her story. + +Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she was +and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles knew that +this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again and again, crying +that his great seas of joy drowned him with their sweetness. “Give me my +robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + +Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of +heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a +vision. + +“Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden +priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + +Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly +had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you +are--O royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently +recovering, she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” + “The voice of dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa +am I,” she said, and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very +truth. + +Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found +happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the +pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only +in being restored to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and +became a princess in the land where she had been sold as a slave. + + + + +HAMLET + + + +Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father and +mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named Ophelia. +Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + +While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young +Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung +the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so +tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, +before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined +to marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + +Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + +“It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my +loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least +remembers him, and grieves still.” + +Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of +course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + +“Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those +I love.” + +With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their +wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them +both. + +And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he +ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. +It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the +King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, +and could not accuse Claudius. + +And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, +from Wittenberg. + +“What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend +kindly. + +“I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + +“I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My +father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + +“My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + +Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with two +gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the battlements. +Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, the ghost of the +King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, appeared on the battlements +in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave youth. Instead of running +away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it beckoned him he followed +it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him that what he had +suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good +brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his +orchard in the afternoon. + +“And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked +brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and +she is your mother. Remember me.” + +Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + +“Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I +will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your +commands alone live on my brain.” + +So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of +the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled +dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered +father. + +The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost +mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, +he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended +madness in other matters. + +And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, +and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that +she could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not +believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she +told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the +letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love.” + +And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's supposed +madness was love. + +Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and +yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his +father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the +ghost spoke truly. + +Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them +to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play +was the story of a man who had been murdered in his garden by a near +relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife. + +You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his +throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, +acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And +when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the +sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the +room--the Queen and others following. + +Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + +“Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this +murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + +Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him +for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, +wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself +behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen +got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and +Polonius behind the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the +King who was hidden there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and +killed, not the King, but poor old Polonius. + +So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap +killed his true love's father. + +“Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this,” cried the Queen. + +And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and +marry his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts +and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more +friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good +King. And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, +but the Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + +When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, +he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed +the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our +plan, and send him away to England.” + +So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, +and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet +should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these +letters, and put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers +who were so ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, +Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left +him to his fate, and went on to meet theirs. + +Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. +Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits +too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, +and flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking +poor, foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one +day, coming to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery +garland on a willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and +so died. + +And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had made +him hide it; and when he came back, he found the King and Queen, and the +Court, weeping at the funeral of his dear love and lady. + +Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice +for the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he +leaped into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + +“I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt +into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + +Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + +“I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to +love her more than I.” + +But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes +how Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to +slay Hamlet by treachery. + +Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were +present. Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes +had prepared for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the +wicked King had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant +to give poor Hamlet when he should grow warm with the sword play, and +should call for drink. + +So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave +Hamlet a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for +they had been fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with +Laertes in a struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked +them up again, Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt +sword for Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he +pierced Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + +At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear +Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + +She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and +the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall +dead by his means. + +Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and +the two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found +courage to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, +if he had braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives +had been spared, and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well +deserved to die. + +Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, +turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + +“Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + +So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all +being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him +die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him +with their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of +Denmark. + + + + +CYMBELINE + + + +Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two sons +were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and he +was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second +time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's +playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married +him. This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish +Leonatus, banished him from Britain. + +Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was +not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, +but they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little +children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised +never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone +else as long as they lived. + +“This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, +and keep it as long as you love me.” + +“Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my +sake.” + +“Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + +And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and +Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + +When he was come to Rome, where he had gone to stay with an old friend +of his father's, he spent his days still in thinking of his dear Imogen, +and his nights in dreaming of her. One day at a feast some Italian and +French noblemen were talking of their sweethearts, and swearing that +they were the most faithful and honorable and beautiful ladies in the +world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how he had said many times that +his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and constant than any of the ladies +in France. + +“I say so still,” said Leonatus. + +“She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of +the Italian nobles. + +“She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + +“I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your +wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + +“That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my +finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that +my wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade +her to do otherwise.” + +So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's +finger, and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction +to Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all +kindness; but he was still determined to win his wager. + +He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to +tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently +perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave +her. Then he said-- + +“Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you +this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to +be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + +“I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + +“Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of +a trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some +other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + +“I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend +of my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care +of them.” + +“It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again +to-morrow.” + +So the trunk was carried into Imogen's room, and that night she went to +bed and to sleep. When she was fast asleep, the lid of the trunk opened +and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The story about the jewels was as +untrue as the rest of the things he had said. He had only wished to get +into her room to win his wicked wager. He looked about him and noticed +the furniture, and then crept to the side of the bed where Imogen +was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet which had been the +parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the trunk, and next +morning sailed for Rome. + +When he met Leonatus, he said-- + +“I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no +longer thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her +room, which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and +silver andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + +“I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed +talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the +servants.” + +“Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from +her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet +enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + +“Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have +won my life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has +forgotten me.” + +And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, +Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder +her, because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same +time he wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old +servant, to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to +meet her. + +Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its +orders, and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the +letter from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before +he left, the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be +useful in sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that +Imogen would die, and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the +Queen thought this drink was a poison, but really and truly it was only +a sleeping-draft. + +When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was +really in the letter he had had from her husband. + +“I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + +And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her +on her way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the +drink he had had from the Queen. + +Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. +Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went +in, and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw +there, and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the +cave. She was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought +that they would be angry with her for taking their food, though she +had meant to leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they +welcomed her kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her +face was good, as well as pretty. + +“You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with +them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one +day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with +the two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine +Pisanio had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead +creature, so that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, +they thought she was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they +carried her away and laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + +They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale +primroses, and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and +went away sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not +knowing how she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through +the wood. + +Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to +attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, +who had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come +back, not to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons +against Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the +Roman General, and took service with him as his page. + +When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and +his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as +a British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline +prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued +the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners +brought before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, +who had put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life +since he had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, +as a Roman soldier, he would be put to death. + +When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + +“A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so +be it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let +him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, +true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save +him, Sir.” + +Then Cymbeline looked on the page, who was his own daughter, Imogen, in +disguise, and though he did not recognize her, he felt such a kindness +that he not only spared the boy's life, but he said-- + +“He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a +prisoner, the noblest taken.” + +Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from +whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + +“Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + +Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was +unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he +came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's +lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed +dead. + +“Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + +Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my +lord--here, here!” + +Leonatus turned to strike the forward page who thus interfered in his +great trouble, and then he saw that it was his wife, Imogen, and they +fell into each other's arms. + +The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to +the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he +gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, +and the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + +“I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had +only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole +your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two +boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a +boy like themselves. + +The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with +his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + +So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever +after. So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the +world's end. + + + + +MACBETH + + + +When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two +stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of +Scotland by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly +and well, on the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part +of Scottish history. The other story issues from a place called +Imagination; it is gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + +A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a +battle was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals +named Macbeth and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together +towards Forres, in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was +awaiting them. + +While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, +sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + +“Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + +“Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + +Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou +shalt be the father of kings.” + +“Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of +Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his +children live. Speak, I charge you!” + +The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the +air. + +Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, +and were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of +them thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and +the other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + +Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title +was to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch +called me, 'King that is to be.'” + +“Banquo,” he said, “you see that the witches spoke truth concerning me. +Do you not believe, therefore, that your child and grandchild will be +kings?” + +Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he +deemed it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. +He told Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them +both into villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, +however, thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to +keep to himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + +Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died +in defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by +whose order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder +of bitter wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she +read his letter, she was determined that he should be King. + +When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in +Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + +She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend +a sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are +blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, +with his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared +his guest. + +“Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have +thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + +“I dare do all that may become a man,” replied Macbeth; “who dare do +more is none.” + +“Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with +bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she +showed him how to do it. + +After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at +his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were +stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King +herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + +Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon +with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a +voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + +“Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the +grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + +“I dare not,” said Macbeth. + +His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a +heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + +The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking +which could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain +of Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to +him, and showed him the door of the King's room. + +Macduff entered, and came out again crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + +Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he +could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms +with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + +These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. +One of Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was +King. But he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed +his mind. If Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. +Macbeth determined, therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He +hired two ruffians, who slew Banquo one night when he was on his way +with Fleance to a banquet which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. +Fleance escaped. + +Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, +and he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of +times since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on +both.” + +“We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but +ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall +and sat in Macbeth's place. + +Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, +he could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry +of Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + +The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's +ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + +But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a +form of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have +done this?” + +Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou +canst not say I did it.” + +The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass +of wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend +Banquo, whom we miss.” + +The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + +“Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the +earth, thou horrible shadow.” + +Again none saw the ghost but he. + +“What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + +The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She +hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow +worse if he was obliged to talk. + +Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches +whose prophecies had so depraved him. + +He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round +a cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible +creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + +“Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + +“Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first +witch. + +“Call them,” replied Macbeth. + +Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the +flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so +that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + +He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He +knows thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware +Macduff, the chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the +cauldron till it disappeared. + +“One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + +“He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned +child ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child +said-- + + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + +“That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's +descendants would ever rule Scotland. + +The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of +phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In +each king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + +Then he was suddenly left alone. + +His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They +did not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave +a stinging answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou +liest!” shouted Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and +with his last breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not +leave the castle while one of its inmates remained alive. + +Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of +cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell +him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not +speak the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers +relieved by royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said +that England was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross +blurted out his news, and Macduff cried, “All dead, did you say? All my +pretty ones and their mother? Did you say all?” + +His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into +Macbeth's castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force +more solemn than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was +mad. She walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash +her hands for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, +would still see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to +hear her cry that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her +little hand. + +“Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the +doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own +mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the +dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + +One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and +said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered +Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of +air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + +Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. +Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he +had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + +From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed +appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held aloft a +bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like human trees +they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + +Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and +the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single +combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when +Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; +I have spilt too much of your blood already.” + +“My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade +him yield. + +“I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + +Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a +King's head by the hair. + +“Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + +So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the +descendants of Banquo were kings. + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + +AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His +wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, +and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the +Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had +been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were +exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the +same. + +And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where +these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born +to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were +the parents of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the +other twins. + +AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, +and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed +homewards. + +They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the +crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of +their passengers. + +AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the +slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining +children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and +hoped for safety. + +The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and +AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from +AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by +some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the +babies from her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very +miserable. Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia +Minor. + +AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than +AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were +eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he +called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the +children who floated away from him. + +At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a +desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and +the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio +of Syracuse. + +Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled +for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the news of +Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + +As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was +arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of +Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky +enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had +angrily passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand +pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought +before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a +thousand pounds before the end of the day. + +You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children +who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of +Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of +Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and +Dromio of Ephesus. + +Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of +Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in +order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of +Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till +he came. + +In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, +his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. +“Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked +Antipholus of Syracuse. + +This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on +the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that +his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he +asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without +delay. His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he +had not fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found +that his gold had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + +He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him +with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and +Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and +she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio +of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, +you may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was +really her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet +unless I said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + +“Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not +know you.” + +“Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent +Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; +I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine +with me and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + +They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of +disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where +a very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + +They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio +demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by +heart. + +From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was +Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + +Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and +finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his +wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to +another woman. + +Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be +her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone +with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he +was not married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a +mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her +floating golden hair. + +Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to +Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be +seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + +Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo +the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which +he had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + +The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated +his “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took +the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He +offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + +The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor of the +sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest unless he paid +his debt immediately. This creditor had brought a police officer with +him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of +the house where he had been dining because he had been locked out of The +Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay when Antipholus denied receipt of +the chain. Angelo could have sent his mother to prison if she had said +that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus in charge. + +At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus +that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. +To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He +would gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly +telling him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband +a purse of money which she would find in his desk. + +Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had +been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from +getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master +immediately. + +Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his +real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what +he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further +surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he +had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of +Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. +“Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she +received. + +Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was +to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger +when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch +a purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the +slave in the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; +and his temper did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived +under the impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He +raged so much that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of +Adriana spared him this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of +him, and asked the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + +Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again, +and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the odd +behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” said the merchant at last, +“that's he, I think.” + +It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, +and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly +pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the +chain he had the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his +temper, and drew his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several +others appeared. “Hold!” shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is +mad. Take his sword away. Bind him--and Dromio too.” + +Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, +“Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + +They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + +Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, +and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + +“To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + +Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was +mad. + +Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, +for the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that +if her husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the +present. + +Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and +behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two +others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had +not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + +Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a +woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing +his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + +The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the +order than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that +his master had singed off the doctor's beard. + +“Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + +“As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + +Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his +brother of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, +“Justice, most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to +Adriana. “She has treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + +Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, “Unless I am delirious, I see my +son Antipholus.” + +No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the +doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang +who tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he +had escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + +The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was +seen to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked +Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw +my father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to +the brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to +acknowledge me in misery.” + +Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and +Dromio of Syracuse. + +Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and +Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + +It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by +paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I +am thy wife AEmilia.” + +The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + +So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband +reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in +the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. +Will you be my wife?” + +Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + +The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + + + + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + +Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were +on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with +England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very +generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of +his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + +Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless +and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his +fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio +for further help. + +“To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I +have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + +“Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + +Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all +quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because +she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked +on me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should +win her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to +Belmont, where she lives.” + +“All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready +money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for +you what you need.” + +There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named +Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated +him with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a +cur, over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted +to all these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he +cherished a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio +both hurt his pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought +Shylock, “I should be richer by half a million ducats. On the market +place, and wherever he can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, +and--worse than that--he lends out money freely.” + +So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats +to Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to +Antonio, said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with +you and have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no +interest. But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be +agreed that if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall +have the right to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of +your body I choose.” + +“No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + +“Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the +time. I will sign the bond.” + +Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to +woo the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's +pretty daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her +lover, and she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of +ducats and precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to +see. His love for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my +feet and the jewels in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in +hearing of the serious losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose +ships were wrecked. “Let him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him +look to his bond.” + +Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. +He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and +beauty had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them +Portia had but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would +pledge himself to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were +conditions that frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would +win Portia's heart and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held +her portrait. If he guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if +wrong, then he was bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, +never to marry, and to go away at once. + +The caskets were of gold, silver, and lead. The gold one bore this +inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;” + the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he +deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who chooseth me +must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as brave as he +was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He chose the +gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could contain her +picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the likeness of +what many men desire--death. + +After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have +what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and +found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” + he cried. + +Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from +making his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved +him dearly, even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at +once, for, as I am, I live upon the rack.” + +Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant +lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the +caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he +said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and +so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; +joy be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait +inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + +“Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house is yours, and with them +I give you this ring, from which you must never part.” + +And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to +swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + +Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers +came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock +demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was +entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as +Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + +“First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then +go to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money +enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + +But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and +arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from +a celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in +to decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of +Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the +money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's +only answer was-- + + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + +It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her own +husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great +Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. +Then in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her +entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + +“What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + +“But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + +“The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the +money-lender. + +“Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A sentence: come, prepare.” + +“Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only +to his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property +will be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + +And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + +“No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take +your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even +by the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + +Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats +that I lent him, and let him go.” + +Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have +nothing but his bond.” + +“You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to take the life of a +Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your life and goods are +forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + +Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to +Shylock had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender +forfeited half his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other +half on his daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + +Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part +with the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised +never to part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to +Portia, she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with +him until she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was +she who, in the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and +got the ring from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier +than ever, to know how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the +caskets. + + + + +TIMON OF ATHENS + + + +Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens +whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but +no worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If +anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. +If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was +offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he +would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in +front of Timon to receive double its market price. + +Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. +When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly +wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, +“There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those +singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a +night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of +his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees +them not!” + +Of course, Timon was much praised. + +A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect +till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon +gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, +“O, he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” + said another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; +and other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + +But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to +knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + +“You will die for that,” said Timon. + +“Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know +what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + +This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, +because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number +of acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not +shun them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, +and is inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + +Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, +after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + +Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and +the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise +man has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and +he did not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and +furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected +him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + +Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day +Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said +to his steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a +hundred, thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of +the world if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + +“Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius +because he had once got Ventidius out of prison by paying a creditor of +this young man. Ventidius was now rich. Timon trusted in his gratitude. +But not for all; so much did he owe! Servants were despatched with +requests for loans of money to several friends: + +One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus +said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last +night.” Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, +perfect gentleman, your master, eh?” + +“Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + +“And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, +jovially. + +“Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I +beg you to fill with money, sir.” + +“La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! +ha!” “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. +I've warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you +know this is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you +act like a good boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three +solidares for yourself.” + +“Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + +Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was +Sempronius. + +“Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is +beholden to him.” + +“He refused.” + +“Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + +“He refused.” + +“A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in +affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent +him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + +“Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + +When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of +a lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a +banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in +the least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and +said to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + +“I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said +Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + +“It was a real grief to me to be without ready money when he asked for +some,” said Sempronius. + +“The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + +Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies +and compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + +In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. +Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + +“Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the +gods of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are +our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men +love the joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain +twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. +Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!” + +The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. +They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, +they uncovered the dishes. + +There was nothing in them but warm water. + +“May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the +flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your +villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, +and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, +he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + +His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + +Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a +handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, +having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. +The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not +soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern +the fact that good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He +determined to see nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of +Ventidius and the meanness of Lucullus. + +He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the +earth for food. + +One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck +gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, +and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold +vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, +“will make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. +It will buy murder and bless the accursed.” + +He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached +with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but +pleasure. + +Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades +did not recognize him at first. + +“Who are you?” he asked. + +“A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + +Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon +would none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when +they found he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his +opinion of them, but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you +more?” + +With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + +“Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and +then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could +have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + +Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug +up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + +Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said +Apemantus. “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can +imitate.” + +“You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said +Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as +they ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + +“If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should throw myself away.” + +“You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a +good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + +“Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told +him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a +pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + +Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he +was sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him +with an evil wish. + +This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had +departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + +“You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + +“We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + +“No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it +poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + +He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full +pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that +day of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried +he. + +“Away! What are you?” said Timon. + +“Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + +“I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you +are a man, I have forgotten you.” + +“I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + +“Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + +Flavius began to cry. + +“What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you +because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh +or beg.” + +They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you +rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. +I will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh +slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die +in jail before you pay his debt.” + +Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + +“If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his +back on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to +obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + +The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty +nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon +therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom +he had patronized in his prosperity. + +“Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how +your friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + +“We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + +“You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + +“There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I +did not come for that.” + +“Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of +gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + +“Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” + answered Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, +“Put that into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a +whack to the poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for +it. There's gold for you.” + +They hurriedly withdrew. + +Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was +threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter +noble whose gold might help the foe. + +“Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you +dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + +“Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, +and more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + +“Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; +you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a +fool.” + +But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could +save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” + they said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy +her.” + +“Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and +seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + +The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown +before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, +who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They +looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield +if he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper +than arrows. + +“These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged +you, Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + +“Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your +revenge needs human flesh.” + +“Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + +“I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will +inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + +At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble +general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, +“He is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone +with letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed +them on wax.” + +Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + all living men did hate. + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + and stay not here your gait.” + +“Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens +with an olive branch instead of a sword. + +So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter +than Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a +warning lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + + + + +OTHELLO + + + +Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, who +hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead of +Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, +whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago +had a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he +could not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + +Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called +him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been +vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great +traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. +Brave as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a +terrible selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as +absolutely as he possessed something that did not live and think. The +story of Othello is a story of jealousy. + +One night Iago told Roderigo that Othello had carried off Desdemona +without the knowledge of her father, Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo +to arouse Brabantio, and when that senator appeared Iago told him +of Desdemona's elopement in the most unpleasant way. Though he was +Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and a Barbary horse. + +Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to +fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used +was his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth +escapes. Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained +how she could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I +saw Othello's visage in his mind.” + +As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there +was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to +go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to +go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him +at Cyprus. + +Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, +my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and +Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with +my own happiness.” + +News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he +proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + +Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago +decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, +as Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought +wine into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and +so Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + +When Cassio was inclined to be quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say +something unpleasant to him. Cassio cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the +presence of Montano, the ex-governor. Montano civilly interceded for +Roderigo, but received so rude an answer from Cassio that he said, +“Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded him, and Iago sent +Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + +The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I +love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + +On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about +his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. +“O God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an +enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + +Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio +was pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to +Desdemona in the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and +said, “Be merry, Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your +cause.” + +Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired +hurriedly. + +Iago said, “I don't like that.” + +“What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something +unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio +who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was +Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who +stole away in that guilty manner.” + +Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio +retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part +when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. +Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona +told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + +Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that +Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + +“Yes,” said Othello. + +“Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now +very clear. + +“Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective +inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + +“What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + +To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. +He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who +steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name +ruins me.” + +At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident +of his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no +other than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth +mock the meat it feeds on.” + +Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the +remark that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. +“If she deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + +Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. +She saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his +forehead. Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello +had given her. A prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this +handkerchief from the silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a +liquid prepared from the hearts of maidens, and embroidered it with +strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of it simply as a cool, soft +thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell upon it that would work +destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it round your head,” she +said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But Othello pettishly +said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he then went +indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which Iago had +often asked her to steal. + +She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he +snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + +In the garden he was joined by Othello, who seemed hungry for the worst +lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello that he had seen Cassio +wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because it was spotted with +strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had given his wife. + +The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness +that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I +accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that +Cassio is dead.” + +Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. +Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry +pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to +copy it for him. + +Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona +about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation +between Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's +sweetheart, and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was +Desdemona. + +“How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + +“The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + +“Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, +adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the +matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + +“Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like +the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's +fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he +prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not +the dog I shall throw it to.” + +Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea +that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the +embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the +handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + +Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech +inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise +his wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the +needle, her voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her +wit, her sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised +her Iago said something that made him remember his anger and utter it +foully, and yet he must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, +Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!” + +There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there +had been he might have wavered then. + +“Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + +The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a +relative of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter +for Othello from the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from +Cyprus, and gave the governorship to Cassio. + +Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit +of Cassio. + +“Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + +“It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, +and he told her what it contained. + +“I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that +Othello's unkindness had wrung out of her. + +“I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + +“Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her +face. + +Now was the time for Desdemona to have saved her life by separation, but +she knew not her peril--only that her love was wounded to the core. “I +have not deserved this,” she said, and the tears rolled slowly down her +face. + +Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not +be believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in +his nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and +roared, “Out of my sight!” + +“I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in +going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and +his guests. + +Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, +to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the +company. + +Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family +quarrels, and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico +asked Iago for an explanation. + +True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse +than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from +the discomfort of answering any more questions. + +He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune +with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona +without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + +Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's +house, Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, +and Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo +as his assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient +friend, called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + +At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she +must leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. +“It was his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + +She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to +her--a song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though +it weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + +She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed +to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask +God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not +kill thy soul,” he said. + +He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to +confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything +that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + +Then Desdemona wept, but with violent words, in spite of all her +pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and mortally hurt her. + +Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, +and Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A +guiltless death I die.” + +“Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. +Farewell!” + +“'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + +He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came +running in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, +Emilia told the truth. + +And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he +exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + +But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a +relief from torture. + +They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he +escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the +Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. +Say I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and +say that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I +took him by the throat and smote him thus.” + +With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his +lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + +There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair +daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, +and unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her +sister, Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more +than one suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the +elder daughter must marry first. + +So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to +marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to +their suit for Bianca. + +A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought +of, and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the +disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just +the sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he +himself would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + +Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his +gentle daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she +was anything but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, +complaining that the naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, +because he told her she was not playing correctly. + +“Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to +have some chat with her.” + +When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, Kate--for that, I hear, is +your name.” + +“You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + +“Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and +sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every +town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + +“Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable +things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + +“If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still +protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + +When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + +“How speed you with my daughter?” + +“How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + +“How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + +“I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you are acting a father's +part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + +“Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. +You should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will +go off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! +we will be married on Sunday.” + +With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent +temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in +love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was +not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her +rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she +did indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + +To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the +wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was +ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby +way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + +And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, +Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or +drink--saying that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with +her. + +And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in +so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. +He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by +rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the +way. + +She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was +determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had +made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never +forget. + +So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served +he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and +ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but +the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless +to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how +anxious he was that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, +throwing the pillows and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not +go to bed at all, and still kept growling and scolding at the servants +so that Kate might see how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + +The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught +away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for +want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + +“I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + +“What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + +Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's +secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would +she like tripe? + +“Bring it me,” said Katharine. + +“I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the +servant. “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + +“I love it,” said Kate. + +“But mustard is too hot.” + +“Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was +getting hungrier and hungrier. + +“No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef +from me.” + +“Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or +anything thou wilt.” + +“Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + +Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + +Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun +to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new +clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine +was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made +for her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and +gown on the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish +things. + +“I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All gentlewomen wear such caps as +these--” + +“When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not +till then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but +privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + +“Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the +sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest +habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by +dinner-time.” + +“It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to +see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and +her sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get +there.” + +“It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, +whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't +go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + +At last they started for her father's house. + +“Look at the moon,” said he. + +“It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + +“I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or +whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + +Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, +for from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and +never again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + +So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found +all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly +married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat +down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing +Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many +disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and +froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with +such spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the +new bride. + +After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh +against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear +you have got the veriest shrew of all.” + +“You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us +shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the +one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree +on.” + +The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the +most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + +They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + +“Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or +hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + +“A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + +“Content,” cried the others. + +Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to +him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the +servant coming back, said-- + +“Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + +“There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + +“You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a +worse.” + +“I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + +“Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + +“Oh--if you entreat her,” said Petruchio. + +“I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will +not be entreated.” + +But now the servant came in, and said-- + +“She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + +“Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I +command her to come to me.” + +They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and +that she would not come. + +Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + +“Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + +“What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + +“Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + +“Talking by the parlor fire.” + +“Fetch them here.” + +When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + +“Here is a wonder!” + +“I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + +“It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + +“Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add +another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another +daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + +So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife +and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her +well, and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they +lived happy ever afterwards. + + + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + +More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were +governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was +excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + +The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna +was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief +secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, +that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He +knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause +people to call him a tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council +that he must go to Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen +Angelo to rule in my absence,” said he. + +Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean +man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have +nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana +lived forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, +and loving him still. + +Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called +Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of +giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to +stay at home and see how Angelo governed. + +Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young +man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would +only be punished by severe reproof. + +Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of +freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead +with Angelo. + +Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, +and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + +Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + +An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but +not kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + +Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy +than is in the law.” + +Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine +the next morning. + +After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the +condemned man desired to see him. + +“Admit her,” said Angelo. + +On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor +to your Honor.” + +“Well?” said Angelo. + +She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased +the beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she +continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + +“Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A +fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault +went free.” + +She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You +are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + +So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon +him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis +too late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with +reasons, and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + +She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him that +humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it was good to +have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant. She told him +that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. She bade him look +for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to refrain from making +it an argument against her brother's life. + +Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's +beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for +the love of man. + +He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + +She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a +few hours.' + +In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his +judicial duty. + +When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother +cannot live.” + +Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. +Heaven keep your Honor.” + +But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight +in comparison with the loss of her. + +“Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + +“Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay +upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the +just man he pretended to be. + +So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. +At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. +But when he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by +marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and +he exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + +“O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + +At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to +request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + +The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose +love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let +Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, +in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would +marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it +might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + +Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly +like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They +were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + +In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like a +friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, friar?” “I have none,” said +the Duke. + +Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one +about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and +called the Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love +him. “The Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the +Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he +thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a +friar, replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to +see another merry to being merry himself.” + +The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + +Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the +two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They +went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and +while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the +window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which +betrayed Mariana's indifference to her country dwelling. Some women +would have beautified their garden: not she. She was for the town; she +neglected the joys of the country. He was sure that Angelo would not +make her unhappier. + +“We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + +So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, +and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone +which flashed in the light with secret colors. + +Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared +to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, +however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His +amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever +you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the +clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + +But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another +head,” and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the +hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows +it not. Give Angelo another head.” + +The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's +signet and I know his hand.” + +He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the +age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + +The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its +resemblance to Claudio's. + +The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city +gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and +Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their +conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence. + +It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, +passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried +for justice. + +When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a +slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + +“Friar Lodowick,” said she. + +“Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + +“I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against +your Grace.” + +A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + +Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took +off her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was +worth looking on.” + +Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand +which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + +“I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage +between us, but I found her frivolous.” + +Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. +Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar +Lodowick. + +“He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the +missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + +Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and +accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as +abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, +that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled +for his impudence. + +“To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, +the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + +“Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve +you, work it for all it's worth.” + +“Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + +“Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + +“I was,” said Angelo. + +“Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to +Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + +“Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is +now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but +well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + +“O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + +“You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + +At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said +the Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid +his head!” + +“O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + +“You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + +“O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no better man.” + +Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned +inflexibility. + +“Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio as executed at an unusual +hour?” + +Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, +“I had a private message.” + +“You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then +departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer +death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost +re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I +saved this man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to +Isabella, “I pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my +brother, too, if you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + +She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the +Provost. + +Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + +Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. +Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived +at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name +because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a +Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because +it was that of a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him +to be a lover at one time and a traitor at another. + +One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm +not in love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at +home.” + +Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, +who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry +to part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, +and I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant +called Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's +daughter, Silvia. + +When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she +loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in +the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, +for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be +annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone +than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her +heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So +by tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved +him. Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, +and you shall marry me.” + +Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's +letter and talking to himself. + +“What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + +“A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + +“Let me read it,” said Antonio. + +“There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is +very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I +were with him.” + +This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go +to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go +to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my +outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent +after you.” + +It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two +days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and +he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till +death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + +Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him +under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that +she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well +of, but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike +writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. +“Take it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + +“Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + +“Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not write tenderly enough.” + +Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; +but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed +Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The +joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He +meant that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: +“If master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + +On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and +afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love +for Julia was prospering. + +“Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + +“Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink +all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + +“You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + +“She is divine,” said Valentine. + +“Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + +“Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all +women on earth.” + +“Except Julia,” said Proteus. + +“Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant +that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + +“Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + +But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired +Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without +delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself +am dearer than my friend.” + +It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by +the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the +evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did +not change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to +him the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. +“In the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope +ladder, with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + +Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. +The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom +she did not care a straw. + +Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make +Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring +Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, +“Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, +but your Grace should know that he intends to-night to elope with your +Grace's daughter.” He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver +of this information, and the Duke assured him that his name would not be +divulged. + +Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing +a large cloak with a bulging pocket. + +“You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir +Thurio?” + +“I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man +so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + +“Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, +proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I +intend, therefore, to marry again.” + +Valentine bowed. + +“I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the +Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to +win the lady of my choice.” + +“Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + +“I have tried them,” said the Duke. + +“The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some +more.” + +“The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised +to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in +fact, locked up.” + +“Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a +rope ladder.” + +“But how should I carry it?” asked the Duke. + +“A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + +“Like yours?” + +“Yes, your Grace.” + +“Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + +Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend +his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the +pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and +read these words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + +“Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but +not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are +in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + +Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the +day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + +Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of +the first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; +“walk hence with that.” + +After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest +near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, +the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They +obeyed, and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that +they offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + +“I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are +not violent to women or the poor.” + +The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + +We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since +Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which +she could see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and +she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta +would bear the blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia +therefore said that she intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + +“You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at +this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + +“I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + +Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia +had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her +toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to +see. + +Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to +hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + +“They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + +Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It +was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her + That she might admired be.” + +Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow thundered +into her mind-- + + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + She excels each mortal thing.” + +Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so +beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only +false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She +even went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + +One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, +“Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the +picture of her she promised me.” + +Silvia had promised the picture, but she disliked Proteus. She was +obliged to talk to him because he was high in the favor of her father, +who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir Thurio. Silvia had +learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a sweetheart in +Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that he was +disloyal in friendship as well as love. + +Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the +woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + +“She thanks you,” said Julia. + +“You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of +herself that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + +Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it +the worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made +up her mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + +Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + +The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled +Valentine, and he was not wrong. + +Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some +servants. + +The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia +(in her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had +been taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. +Proteus rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give +me one kind look.” + +“O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a +lion's breakfast.” + +Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia +that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + +“O heaven!” cried Silvia. + +At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came +crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia +feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But +he struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust +you more.” + +Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive +me! I grieve! I suffer!” + +“Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If +Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that +I will stand aside and bless you both.” + +These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived +her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + +“I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the +Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + +“Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + +She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia +before he left Verona. + +Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + +“I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + +“But I love you again,” said he. + +Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + +“Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + +Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + +“Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + +“I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + +“Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. +Your banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve +her.” + +“I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask +you one more boon.” + +“I grant it,” said the Duke. + +“Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better +than their calling.” + +“I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be +for wages.” + +“What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating +Julia. + +The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + +“More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment +which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and +friendship was the recital in his presence of the adventures of +Julia-Sebastian of Verona. + + + + +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + +In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of Rousillon +was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her husband, +and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, hundreds +of miles away. + +Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, +and eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make +him, and would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. +But a pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + +Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service +of the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her +father's prescriptions. + +When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the +Countess, who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her +own child. Tears then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the +Countess made Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. +The Countess guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that +Bertram was to her as the sun is to the day. + +She hoped, however, to win this sun by earning the gratitude of the King +of France, who suffered from a lingering illness, which made him lame. +The great doctors attached to the Court despaired of curing him, but +Helena had confidence in a prescription which her father had used with +success. + +Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was +allowed to see the King. + +He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would +not become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief +which all the learned doctors cannot give me.” + +“Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared +that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + +“And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + +“Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I +choose!” + +So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering +king. Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the +royal cripple could skip. + +He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the +throne room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been +dazzled, and seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome +young noblemen before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found +Bertram. Then she went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, +but I am yours!” Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, +“This is the Man!” + +“Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + +“My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to +choose a wife.” + +“Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the +monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + +“Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who +owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + +“You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said +the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and +he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not +distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a +bowl.” + +“I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge +him not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's +sake.” + +“My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. +“Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you +are so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + +Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your +interest in her. I submit.” + +“Take her by the band,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + +Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was married to Helena. + +Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped +to sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that +now he had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay +at home. “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made +Bertram feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the +war in Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + +Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, +giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding +her a cold good-bye. + +She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get +the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' +I write 'never.'” + +Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said +farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from +his own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in +trouble, and help you.” + +She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made +him wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and +handed her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I +have run away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always +far away from her.” + +“Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name +out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + +The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay +the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted +fellow.” + +Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, +and, leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for +Florence. + +On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' +House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with +her. + +Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter +named Diana. + +When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman +of yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But +after a time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of +Helena's husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the +fact that he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife +was not worth caring for. + +The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her +that she was the Countess Rousillon. + +“He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + +Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the +same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of +gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will +help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her +hair to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his +finger. It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, +yet he will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your +daughter insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark +room, and agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + +The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She +said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + +Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off +a lock of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to +Bertram that he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her +into the dark room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, +and felt a sweet face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he +left the room satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on +his finger was a ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + +The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught +Bertram that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his +“kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such +a boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French +officers played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost +his drum, and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in +the attempt. His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the +story of a heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + +“Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + +“What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been +blindfolded. + +“He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as +interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + +“As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me +like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there +were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with +spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + +Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told +Diana that he was a fool. + +“This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + +“He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + +Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and +was not addicted to boasting. + +We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her +death, which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, +a lord who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + +The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed +for Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it +accomplished. + +“His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + +Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said +that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he +would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + +“Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget +sweet Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + +Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's +Helena's!” + +“It's not!” said Bertram. + +Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring +I gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So +you had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + +Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother +said it was. + +“You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they +were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana +had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, +craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition +signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to +marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + +“I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than take Bertram now,” said +Lafeu. + +“Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + +Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied +that Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was +spent in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it +was to whom he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now +missing from his finger? + +Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning +generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + +“Do I see reality?” asked the King. + +“O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + +She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will +you love me, Bertram?” + +“To the end of my life,” cried he. + +“My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in +them. + +The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy +young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had +wished to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to +himself. His pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a +husband of some sort after all. + + + + +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES. + + + + [Key.-- + + a,e,i,o,u -- as in hat, bet, it, hot, hut; + â,ê,î,ô,û -- as in ate, mote, mite, mote, mute; + å -- as in America, freeman, coward; + ë -- as in her, fern; + ü -- as in burn, furl. ] + + Adriana (ad-ri-â'-nå) + AEgeon (ê'-ge-on) + AEmilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Alcibiades (al-si-bî'-å-dêz) + Aliena (â-li-ê'-nå) + Angelo (an'-je-lô) + Antioch (an'-ti-ok) + Antiochus (an-tî'-o-kus) + Antipholus (an-tif'-o-lus) + Antonio (an-tô'-ni-ô) + Apemantus (ap-e-man'-tus) + Apollo (å-pol'-ô) + Ariel (â'ri-el) + Arragon (ar'-å-gon) + + Banquo (ban'-kwô) + Baptista (bap-tis'-tå) + Bassanio (bas-sa'-ni-ô) + Beatrice (bê'å-tris) + Bellario (bel-lâ'-ri-ô) + Bellarius (bel-lâ'-ri-us) + Benedick (ben'-e-dik) + Benvolio (ben-vô'-li-ô) + Bertram (bër'-tram) + Bianca (bê-an'-kå) + Borachio (bô-rach'-i-ô) + Brabantio (brå-ban'chô) + Burgundy (bür'-gun-di) + + Caliban (kal'-i-ban) + Camillo (kå-mil'-ô) + Capulet (kap'-û-let) + Cassio (kas'-i-ô) + Celia (sê'-li-å) + Centaur (sen'-tawr) + Cerimon (sê'-ri-mon) + Cesario (se-sâ'-ri-ô) + Claudio (klaw'-di-ô) + Claudius (klaw'-di-us) + Cordelia (kawr-dê'-li-å) + Cornwall (kawrn'-wawl) + Cymbeline (sim'-be-lên) + + Demetrius (de-mê'-tri-us) + Desdemona (des-de-mô-nå) + Diana (dî-an'-å) + Dionyza (dî-ô-nî'-zå) + Donalbain (don'-al-ban) + Doricles (dor'-i-klêz) + Dromio (drô'-mi-ô) + Duncan (dung'-kån) + + Emilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Ephesus (ef'e-sus) + Escalus (es'-kå-lus) + + Ferdinand (fër'-di-nand) + Flaminius (flå-min'-i-us) + Flavius (flâ'-vi-us) + Fleance (flê'-ans) + Florizel (flor'-i-zel) + + Ganymede (gan'-i-mêd) + Giulio (jû'-li-ô) + Goneril (gon'-e-ril) + Gonzalo (gon-zah'-lô) + + Helena (hel'-e-nå) + Helicanus (hel-i-kâ'nus) + Hercules (hër'kû-lêz) + Hermia (hër'mi-å) + Hermione (hër-mî'-o-nê) + Horatio (hô-râ'-shi-ô) + Hortensio (hor-ten'-si-ô) + + Iachimo (yak'-i-mô) + Iago (ê-ah-gô) + Illyria ((il-lir'-i-å) + Imogen (im'-o-jen) + + Jessica (jes'-i-kå) + Juliet (ju'li-et) + + Laertes (lâ-ër'-têz) + Lafeu (lah-fu') + Lear (lêr) + Leodovico (lê-ô-dô'-vi-kô) + Leonato (lê-ô-nâ'-tô) + Leontes (lê-on-têz) + Luciana (lû-shi-â'nå) + Lucio (lû'-shi-ô) + Lucius (lû'-shi-us) + Lucullus (lû-kul'-us) + Lysander (lî-san'-dër) + Lysimachus (lî-sim'-å-kus) + + Macbeth (mak-beth') + Magdalen (mag'-då-len) + Malcolm (mal'-kum) + Malvolio (mal-vô'li-ô) + Mantua (man-'tû-å) + Mariana (mah-ri-â'-na) + Menaphon (men'-å-fon) + Mercutio (mer-kû'-shi-ô) + Messina (mes-sê'-nah) + Milan (mil'-ån) + Miranda (mî-ran'-då) + Mitylene (mit-ê-lê'-nê) + Montagu (mon'-tå-gû) + Montano (mon-tah'-nô) + + Oberon (ob'-ër-on) + Olivia (ô-liv'-i-å) + Ophelia (ô-fêl'-i-å or o-fêl'-yå) + Orlando (awr-lan'-dô) + Orsino (awr-sê'-nô) + Othello (ô-thel'-ô) + + Parolles (pa-rol'-êz) + Paulina (paw-lî'-nå) + Pentapolis (pen-tap'-o-lis) + Perdita (për'-di-tå) + Pericles (per'-i-klêz) + Petruchio (pe-trû'-chi-ô) + Phoenix (fê'-niks) + Pisanio (pê-sah'-ni-ô) + Polixines (pô-liks'-e-nêz) + Polonius (pô-lô'-ni-us) + Portia (pôr'-shi-å) + Proteus (prô'-te-us or prô'-tûs) + + Regan (rê'-gån) + Roderigo (rô-der'-i-gô) + Romano (rô-mah'-nô) + Romeo (rô'-me-ô) + Rosalind (roz'-å-lind) + Rosaline (roz'-å-lin) + Rousillon (ru-sê-lyawng') + + Sebastian (se-bas'-ti-ån) + Sempronius (sem-prô'-ni-us) + Simonides (si-mon'-i-dêz) + Solinus (sô-lî'-nus) + Sycorax (sî'-ko-raks) + Syracuse (sir-å-kus) + + Thaisa (tha-is'-å) + Thaliard (thâ'-li-ård) + Thurio (thû'-ri-ô) + Timon (tî'-mon) + Titania (tî-tan'-i-å) + Tybalt (tib'-ålt) + + Ursula (ur'-sû-lå) + + Venetian (ve-nê'-shån) + Venice (ven'-is) + Ventidius (ven-tid'-i-us) + Verona (vâ-rô'-nå) + Vicentio (vê-sen'-shi-ô) + + + + + +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + +ACTION. + + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than their ears. + + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + + + + +ADVERSITY. + + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + + As You Like It -- II. 1. + + + That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm. + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couched. + + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + + + + + +ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + Hamlet -- I. 3. + + + + +AGE. + + My May of life Is + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + + Macbeth -- V. 3. + + + + +AMBITION. + + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I + hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but + a shadow's shadow. + + Hamlet -- II 2. + + + I charge thee fling away ambition; + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +ANGER. + + Anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + Self-mettle tires him. + + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + + + + +ARROGANCE. + + There are a sort of men, whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a willful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say, “I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore are reputed wise + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +AUTHORITY. + + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + And the creature run from the cur? + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + a dog's obeyed in office. + + King Lear -- IV. 6. + + + Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + Merciful heaven! + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + Drest in a little brief authority -- + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + As make the angels weep. + + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + + + +BEAUTY. + + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + of it ever fair. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + + +BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + + It so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + The virtue, that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + + + + +BRAGGARTS. + + It will come to pass, + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + + + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + are they not monsters? + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +CALUMNY. + + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + thou shalt not escape calumny. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + + + + +CEREMONY. + + Ceremony + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + + + + +COMFORT. + + Men + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + To be so moral, when he shall endure + The like himself. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + + Idem -- II. + + + + +COMPARISON. + + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + Until a king be by; and then his state + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + Into the main of waters. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +CONSCIENCE. + + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENT. + + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTION. + + How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + When two authorities are set up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + The one by the other. + + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + + + + +COWARDS. + + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + + +CUSTOM. + + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + A custom + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +DEATH. + + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + For that's the end of human misery. + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + + + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The dread of something after death, + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others we know not of. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. + + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + + + + +DECEPTION. + + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + + + + +DEEDS. + + Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + + Hamlet -- I. 2. + + + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + Makes deeds ill done! + + King John -- IV. 2. + + + + +DELAY. + + That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many, + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. + + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + + + + +DELUSION. + + For love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + + +DISCRETION. + + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. + + Macbeth -- III. 4. + + + + +DRUNKENNESS. + + Boundless intemperance. + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. + + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + + + + +DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + + 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 checked for silence, + But never taxed for speech. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +EQUIVOCATION. + + But yet + I do not like but yet, it does allay + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +EXCESS. + + A surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + + + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + and the ingredient is a devil. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +FALSEHOOD. + + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + Three things that women hold in hate. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + + + + +FEAR. + + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + + + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + + +FEASTS. + + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + + + + +FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + Than the sea-monster. + + King Lear -- I. 4. + + + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +FORETHOUGHT. + + Determine on some course, + More than a wild exposure to each cause + That starts i' the way before thee. + + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + + + + +FORTITUDE. + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + + + + +FORTUNE. + + When fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + + King John -- III. 4. + + + + +GREATNESS. + + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + through another man's eyes. + + As You Like It -- V. 2. + + + + +HONESTY. + + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + when a knave is not. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + + + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +HYPOCRISY. + + Devils soonest tempt, + resembling spirits of light. + + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + + + One may smile, and smile, + and be a villain. + + Hamlet -- I. 5. + + + + + +INNOCENCE. + + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + + + + +INSINUATIONS. + + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + That calumny doth use;-- + For calumny will sear + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + + + + +JEALOUSY. + + Trifles, light as air, + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + O beware of jealousy: + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + The meat it feeds on. + + Idem. + + + + +JESTS. + + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + of him that hears it. + + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + + + He jests at scars, + that never felt a wound. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + + +JUDGMENT. + + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + That no king can corrupt. + + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + + + + +LIFE. + + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Macbeth -- V. 5. + + + We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. + + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + + + + +LOVE. + + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + + + Sweet love, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The course of true-love + never did run smooth. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + + + Love looks not with the eyes, + but with the mind. + + Idem. + + + She never told her love,-- + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + + + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + + + + +MAN. + + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + how express and admirable! in action, how like + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +MERCY. + + The quality of mercy is not strained: + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown: + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + When mercy seasons justice. + Consider this,-- + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. + + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + + + + +MERIT. + + Who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + + + + +MODESTY. + + It is the witness still of excellency, + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + + + + +MORAL CONQUEST. + + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + That war against your own affections, + And the huge army of the world's desires. + + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + + + + +MURDER. + + The great King of kings + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + That thou shalt do no murder. + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +MUSIC. + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +NAMES. + + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + By any other name would smell as sweet. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + Good name, in man, and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he, that filches from me my good name, + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + + +NATURE. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves, when they be felt. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +OFFICE. + + 'Tis the curse of service; + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + Not by the old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. + + Othello -- I. 1. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY. + + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + Shall never find it more. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + + + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + + + + +OPPRESSION. + + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct them. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PAST AND FUTURE. + + O thoughts of men accurst! + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + + + + +PATIENCE. + + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +PEACE. + + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + + + I will use the olive with my sword: + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + + + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PENITENCE. + + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + + + + +PLAYERS. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts. + + As You Like It -- II. 7. + + + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + not to speak it profanely, that, + neither having the accent of Christians, + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + have so strutted, and bellowed, + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + had made men and not made them well, + they imitated humanity so abominably. + + Hamlet -- III. 2. + + + + +POMP. + + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + + + + +PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + the cripple. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + + + + +PRINCES AND TITLES. + + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honor for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imaginations, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, between their titles, and low name, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + + +QUARRELS. + + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + + + + +RAGE. + + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +REPENTANCE. + + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + + + + +REPUTATION. + + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +RETRIBUTION. + + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + + King Lear -- V. S. + + + If these men have defeated the law, + and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, + they have no wings to fly from God. + + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + + + + +SCARS. + + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + is a good livery of honor. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + + + To such as boasting show their scars, + A mock is due. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + + + + +SELF-CONQUEST. + + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + + King John -- III. 1. + + + + +SELF-EXERTION. + + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + The fault is not in our stars, + But in ourselves. + + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +SILENCE. + + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + + + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades, when speaking fails. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + + + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + + + + +SLANDER. + + Slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +SLEEP. + + The innocent sleep; + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + Macbeth -- II. 2. + + + + +SUICIDE. + + Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine, + That cravens my weak hand. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +TEMPERANCE. + + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility: + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. + + As You Like It -- II. 3. + + + + +THEORY AND PRACTICE. + + There was never yet philosopher, + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + + +TREACHERY. + + Though those, that are betrayed, + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +VALOR. + + The better part of valor is--discretion. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + + + When Valor preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + + + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + + + + +WAR. + + Take care + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + + + + +WELCOME. + + Welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WINE. + + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + to steal away their brains! + that we should with joy, revel, + pleasure, and applause, + transform ourselves into beasts! + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +WOMAN. + + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WORDS. + + Words without thoughts + never to heaven go. + + Hamlet -- III. 3. + + + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +WORLDLY CARE. + + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +WORLDLY HONORS. + + Not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + +***** This file should be named 1430-0.txt or 1430-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/3/1430/ + +Produced by Morrie Wilson and James Rose + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.zip b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c683ead --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-0.zip diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h.zip b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0395a63 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h.zip diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/1430-h.htm b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/1430-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..385972e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/1430-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10189 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <title> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { text-align:justify} + P { margin:15%; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; } + .foot { margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 95%; } + img {border: 0;} + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; } + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 1%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: left; + color: gray; + } /* page numbers */ + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 1%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; + margin: 1em 5%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 5%; margin-bottom: .75em; font-size: 80%;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 5%;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + PRE { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 20%;} + // +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Release Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #1430] +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + + + + +Produced by Morrie Wilson, James Rose, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="wscolor" id="wscolor"></a> <img src="images/ws.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> WILLIAM + SHAKESPEARE <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + </h1> + <h2> + By E. Nesbit + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <i>“It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has been imitated + by all succeeding writers; and it may be doubted whether from all his + successors more maxims of theoretical knowledge, or more rules of + practical prudence can be collected than he alone has given to his + country.”</i>--Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="preface" id="preface"></a> + </p> + <h4> + <b>PREFACE</b> + </h4> + <p> + The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed “the richest, the + purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned.” + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere + science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the whole + body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, + generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out “into little + stars.” His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and + proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the + English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage + which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though often + unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, wrote of + him, “He was not of an age but for all time.” He ever kept the highroad of + human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths of feeling and + sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, sentimental + thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant adventuresses--no + delicate entanglements of situation, in which the grossest images are + presented to the mind disguised under the superficial attraction of style + and sentiment. He flattered no bad passion, disguised no vice in the garb + of virtue, trifled with no just and generous principle. While causing us + to laugh at folly, and shudder at crime, he still preserves our love for + our fellow-beings, and our reverence for ourselves. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with all + that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of that + indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and clear + waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland solitudes, + and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of poetry,--and + with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to mental emotion, + which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in the midst of his + most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks and + ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or repulsive, and reminding us + of the existence of purer and brighter elements. + </p> + <p> + These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of Shakespeare, + next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the classics of + English literature. “So extensively have the characters of Shakespeare + been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction,” says an + American author,--“So interwoven are these characters in the great body of + English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of these dramas is + often a cause of embarrassment.” + </p> + <p> + But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in words + that little folks cannot understand. + </p> + <p> + Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained in the + plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can understand and + enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of these Beautiful + Stories from Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any + unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared + and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. To + which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified in + alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the world's + greatest dramatist. + </p> + <p> + E. T. R. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <b><a name="life" id="life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE.</a></b> + </p> + <p> + In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, a + market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, + 1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. The + entry is in Latin--“Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare.” + </p> + <p> + The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three + days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this fact. + </p> + <p> + The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always + spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is + spelled “Shakspeare,” in several authentic autographs of the dramatist it + reads “Shakspere,” and in the first edition of his works it is printed + “Shakespeare.” + </p> + <p> + Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in which + the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, and in the + council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is introduced one + hundred and sixty-six times during the period that the dramatist's father + was a member of the municipal body, there are fourteen different + spellings. The modern “Shakespeare” is not among them. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have been + unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of ten were + content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not specially to + his discredit. + </p> + <p> + The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation of + Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a woolstapler, + and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have been all of these + simultaneously or at different times, or that if he could not properly be + called any one of them, the nature of his occupation was such as to make + it easy to understand how the various traditions sprang up. He was a + landed proprietor and cultivator of his own land even before his marriage, + and he received with his wife, who was Mary Arden, daughter of a country + gentleman, the estate of Asbies, 56 acres in extent. William was the third + child. The two older than he were daughters, and both probably died in + infancy. After him was born three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve + years at least, after Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in + easy circumstances. In the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief + magistrate of Stratford, and for many years afterwards he held the + position of alderman as he had done for three years before. To the + completion of his tenth year, therefore, it is natural to suppose that + William Shakespeare would get the best education that Stratford could + afford. The free school of the town was open to all boys and like all the + grammar-schools of that time, was under the direction of men who, as + graduates of the universities, were qualified to diffuse that sound + scholarship which was once the boast of England. There is no record of + Shakespeare's having been at this school, but there can be no rational + doubt that he was educated there. His father could not have procured for + him a better education anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's + works without being influenced by the old traditional theory that he had + received a very narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must + have been solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught + in the grammar schools. + </p> + <p> + There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not be + without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. + Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic + towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the + grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of + singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut out + from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great highway, + and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its markets. The + eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for observation. But + nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his birth to his marriage + to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date nothing but the birth of + three children until we find him an actor in London about 1589. + </p> + <p> + How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have no + means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very soon + after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which he is + known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter older plays + not up to the standard that was required at the time was a common practice + even among the best dramatists of the day, and Shakespeare's abilities + would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted for this kind of work. + When the alterations in plays originally composed by other writers became + very extensive, the work of adaptation would become in reality a work of + creation. And this is exactly what we have examples of in a few of + Shakespeare's early works, which are known to have been founded on older + plays. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's + greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the finest + minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers to an + elucidation of their worth. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had + died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived him + till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven years. + His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, in 1607, + married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of this + marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first Thomas + Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by either + marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of February, + 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by whom she had + three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There are thus no + direct descendants of Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him in + other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, but + their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, “I love the man, and + do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He was indeed + honest, and of an open and free nature.” He was buried on the second day + after his death, on the north side of the chancel of Stratford church. + Over his grave there is a flat stone with this inscription, said to have + been written by himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare<br /> + To digg the dust encloased heare:<br /> + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones,<br /> + And curst be he yt moves my bones. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#preface">PREFACE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#life">A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#midsummer">A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tempest">THE TEMPEST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#like">AS YOU LIKE IT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#lear">KING LEAR</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#pericles">PERICLES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quotations">QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>ILLUSTRATIONS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fairies">TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#quarrel">THE QUARREL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wood">HELENA IN THE WOOD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#spell">TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#awakes">TITANIA AWAKES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sea">PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#miranda">PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chess">PLAYING CHESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#celia">ROSALIND AND CELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#chain">ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#faints">GANYMEDE FAINTS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#coast">LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#look">THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perdita">LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#talking">FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hermione">HERMIONE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#france">CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#regan">GONERIL AND REGAN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prison">CORDELIA IN PRISON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#captain">VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#olivia">VIOLA AS “CESARIO” MEETS OLIVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#love">"YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hero">CLAUDIA AND HERO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ursula">HERO AND URSULA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#benedick">BENEDICK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#francis">FRIAR FRANCIS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet">ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#juliet2">MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dead">THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tomb">ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#tournament">PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#marina">PERICLES AND MARINA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#appears">THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#hamlet">POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ophelia">DROWNING OF OPHELIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogen">IACHIMO AND IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#trunk">IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#stupefied">IMOGEN STUPEFIED</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#leonatus">IMOGEN AND LEONATUS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#witches">THE THREE WITCHES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth">FROM “MACBETH"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth2">LADY MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#macbeth3">KING AND QUEEN MACBETH</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#fight">MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dromio">ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse">LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#syracuse2">THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#aemilia">AEMILIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#morocco">THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bond">ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#home">JESSICA LEAVING HOME</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ring">BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#timon">POET READING TO TIMON</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#picture">PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#box">"NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#sullen">TIMON GROWS SULLEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#adventures">OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#othello">OTHELLO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wine">THE DRINK OF WINE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#handkerchief">CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#weeping">DESDEMONA WEEPING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#master">THE MUSIC MASTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#ears">KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#supper">PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#dress">THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#angelo">ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#prince">"YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE"</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#silvia">VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#theletter">SILVIA READING THE LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#serenade">THE SERENADE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#outlaws">ONE OF THE OUTLAWS</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#bertram">HELENA AND BERTRAM</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#king">HELENA AND THE KING</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#letter">READING BERTRAM'S LETTER</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#widow">HELENA AND THE WIDOW</a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#wscolor">WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#clowncolor">TITANIA AND THE CLOWN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#mirandacolor">FERDINAND AND MIRANDA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#perditacolor">PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#julietcolor">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#imogencolor">IMOGEN</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#casketcolor">CHOOSING THE CASKET</a> + </p> + <p> + <a href="#katherinecolor">PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE</a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="clowncolor" id="clowncolor"></a> <img + src="images/dream1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="PLEASE KEEP PHOTO WITH HTML" /> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN <a name="midsummer" id="midsummer"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to + marry another man, named Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any + girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put + to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as he + wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to ask that + she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke gave her + four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if she still + refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + </p> + <p> + Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to do + seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place beyond + the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and marry her. + But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she was going to + do. + </p> + <p> + <a name="fairies" id="fairies"></a> <img src="images/dream2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart + long before his marriage with Hermia had been thought of, and being very + silly, like all jealous people, she could not see that it was not poor + Hermia's fault that Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, + Helena. She knew that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she + was, to the wood outside Athens, he would follow her, “and I can follow + him, and at least I shall see him,” she said to herself. So she went to + him, and betrayed her friend's secret. + </p> + <p> + Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two + had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if one + only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were the + King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies are very + wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as mortal folk. + Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the days were long, + had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They never met without + saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded each other so + dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for fear, would creep + into acorn cups and hide them there. + </p> + <p> + So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in + the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered + through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in + another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom + Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to + follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give + him up. + </p> + <p> + On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the fairies + met. + </p> + <p> + “Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “What! jealous, Oberon?” answered the Queen. “You spoil everything with + your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with + him now.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="quarrel" id="quarrel"></a> <img src="images/dream3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html." /> + </p> + <p> + “It rests with you to make up the quarrel,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant + and suitor.” + </p> + <p> + “Set your mind at rest,” said the Queen. “Your whole fairy kingdom buys + not that boy from me. Come, fairies.” + </p> + <p> + And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + </p> + <p> + “Well, go your ways,” said Oberon. “But I'll be even with you before you + leave this wood.” + </p> + <p> + Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of + mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and + get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer + sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at + them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to + sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going to + drink. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Oberon to this little sprite, “fetch me the flower called + Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the eyes + of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the first thing + they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on my Titania's + eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she sees, were it + lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a busy ape.” + </p> + <p> + While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor + Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all + his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love + her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor Helena, + and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow Demetrius and + put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love Helena when he + woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So Puck set off, and + wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but Lysander, on whose + eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw not his own Hermia, + but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking for the cruel + Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left his own lady, + under the spell of the purple flower. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="wood" id="wood"></a> When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, + and wandered about the wood trying to find him. Puck went back and told + Oberon what he had done, and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, + and set about looking for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the + juice on his eyes. And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also + Helena. So now Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the + wood, and it was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done + before. The end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and + Demetrius and Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his + kind scheme to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + </p> + <p> + “These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night with + drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the other. + When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this other herb + on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his old love. + Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will all think + that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when this is done, + all will be well with them.” + </p> + <p> + So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep + without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, and + said:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “When thou wakest, + </p> + <p> + Thou takest + </p> + <p> + True delight + </p> + <p> + In the sight + </p> + <p> + Of thy former lady's eye: + </p> + <p> + Jack shall have Jill; + </p> + <p> + Nought shall go ill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild + thyme, oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There + Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin of + a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, saying:-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “What thou seest when thou wake, + </p> + <p> + Do it for thy true love take.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was + a stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood + to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped an + ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. + Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, “What angel + is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for + me,” said the foolish clown. + </p> + <p> + “Do not desire to go out of the wood,” said Titania. The spell of the + love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful and + delightful creature on all the earth. “I love you,” she went on. “Come + with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you.” + </p> + <p> + So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, + and Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “You must attend this gentleman,” said the Queen. “Feed him with apricots + and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. Steal + honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of painted + butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said one of the fairies, and all the others said, “I will.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, sit down with me,” said the Queen to the clown, “and let me stroke + your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and + kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Peaseblossom?” asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not + care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having + fairies to wait on him. “Ready,” said Peaseblossom. + </p> + <p> + “Scratch my head, Peaseblossom,” said the clown. “Where's Cobweb?” + “Ready,” said Cobweb. + </p> + <p> + “Kill me,” said the clown, “the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle + yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="spell" id="spell"></a> “Ready,” said Mustardseed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I want nothing,” said the clown. “Only just help Cobweb to scratch. I + must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the + face.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you like anything to eat?” said the fairy Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I should like some good dry oats,” said the clown--for his donkey's head + made him desire donkey's food--“and some hay to follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?” + asked the Queen. + </p> + <p> + “I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas,” said the clown. + “But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Then said the Queen, “And I will wind thee in my arms.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/dream6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="awakes" id="awakes"></a> And so when Oberon came along he found + his beautiful Queen lavishing kisses and endearments on a clown with a + donkey's head. + </p> + <p> + And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to give + him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took pity on + her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her pretty eyes; + and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed clown she had been + loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + </p> + <p> + Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish his + sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + </p> + <p> + Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved each + other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and Helena + had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + </p> + <p> + As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could meet + in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + </p> + <p> + So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the + fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this very + day. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="mirandacolor" id="mirandacolor"></a> <img + src="images/tempest1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Ferdinand and Miranda <br /><a + name="tempest" id="tempest"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <h2> + THE TEMPEST + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who + lived among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his + brother Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was + ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, to + gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the people + bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, Alonso, King + of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom with all its + honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, and when they + were far away from land, forced him into a little boat with no tackle, + mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his little daughter, + Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with him, and sailed + away, leaving them to their fate. + </p> + <p> + But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful master, + Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but much could + be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy lord, whose name + was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh water, provisions, and + clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, some of his precious books. + </p> + <p> + The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed in + safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under the + spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks of trees + all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before Prospero was + cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was the chief, still + remained in their prisons. + </p> + <p> + Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost entirely + to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed his brother to + manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the imprisoned + spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were more truly his + subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he treated them kindly as + long as they did his bidding, and he exercised his power over them wisely + and well. One creature alone he found it necessary to treat with + harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the wicked old witch, a hideous, + deformed monster, horrible to look on, and vicious and brutal in all his + habits. + </p> + <p> + When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it chanced + that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and Ferdinand, his + son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their ship came near + Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, raised by his art a + great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave themselves up for + lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped into the sea, and, + as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But Ariel brought him + safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although they were washed + overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of the island, and the + good ship herself, which they all thought had been wrecked, lay at anchor + in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such wonders could Prospero + and his spirits perform. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest2.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="sea" id="sea"></a> While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero + showed his daughter the brave ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and + told her that it was filled with living human beings like themselves. She, + in pity of their lives, prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. + Then her father bade her to have no fear, for he intended to save every + one of them. + </p> + <p> + Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, and + that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, Antonio + and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his hands. + </p> + <p> + When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for Ariel + was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed for his + complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being + threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when Sycorax + ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the master who + had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and promised + faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + </p> + <p> + “Do so,” said Prospero, “and in two days I will discharge thee.” + </p> + <p> + Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search + of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near him, + singing the while-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Come unto these yellow sands + </p> + <p> + And then take hands: + </p> + <p> + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + </p> + <p> + (The wild waves whist), + </p> + <p> + Foot it featly here and there; + </p> + <p> + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a solemn + air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his eyes, for + thus they ran-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Full fathom five thy father lies; + </p> + <p> + Of his bones are coral made. + </p> + <p> + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + </p> + <p> + Nothing of him that doth fade, + </p> + <p> + But doth suffer a sea-change + </p> + <p> + Into something rich and strange. + </p> + <p> + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + </p> + <p> + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of + Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. For + Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen any human + being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with reverence in her + eyes, and love in her secret heart. + </p> + <p> + “I might call him,” she said, “a thing divine, for nothing natural I ever + saw so noble!” + </p> + <p> + And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + </p> + <p> + “Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!” + </p> + <p> + Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for + scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to + make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly + delighted, pretended wrath. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="miranda" id="miranda"></a> “You come here as a spy,” he said to + Ferdinand. “I will manacle your neck and feet together, and you shall feed + on fresh water mussels, withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to + drink. Follow.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero + charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and + Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he + harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There he + set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of + timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his + toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + </p> + <p> + She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would not + let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and she, + hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he gave + his consent to their marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Take her,” he said, “she is thine own.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island were + plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand being + dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on Alonso's + death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose while their + victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + </p> + <p> + Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and + just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder and + lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet disappeared. + Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + </p> + <p> + Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his cell, + where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly + repenting them of their sins. + </p> + <p> + Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, “And then,” + said he, “I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll + drown my book.” + </p> + <p> + So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in his + proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he forgave them + and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly committed him + and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. Alonso, who seemed + sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented the loss of his heir. + But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them Ferdinand and Miranda + playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet his loved son again, and + when he heard that the fair maid with whom Ferdinand was playing was + Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks had plighted their troth, he + said-- + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tempest4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chess" id="chess"></a> “Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow + still embrace his heart that doth not wish you joy.” + </p> + <p> + So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they + all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. + Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the + rejoicings at the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own dukedom, + where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. He + practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not only + because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his + bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took no + vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + </p> + <p> + As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander where + he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + </p> + <p> + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + </p> + <p> + There I couch when owls do cry. + </p> + <p> + On the bat's back I do fly + </p> + <p> + After summer, merrily: + </p> + <p> + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + </p> + <p> + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <a name="like" id="like"></a> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> AS YOU LIKE IT + </p> + <p> + <br /> There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom + that should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His + brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold + forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="celia" id="celia"></a> The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, + remained with Celia, Frederick's daughter, and the two loved each other + more than most sisters. One day there was a wrestling match at Court, and + Rosalind and Celia went to see it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was + there, who had killed many men in contests of this kind. Orlando, the + young man he was to wrestle with, was so slender and youthful, that + Rosalind and Celia thought he would surely be killed, as others had been; + so they spoke to him, and asked him not to attempt so dangerous an + adventure; but the only effect of their words was to make him wish more to + come off well in the encounter, so as to win praise from such sweet + ladies. + </p> + <p> + Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance by + his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until he saw + Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now the sight + of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that he did + marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the wrestler + had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased with his + courage, and asked his name. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,” + said the young man. + </p> + <p> + Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to the + banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando was, + and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that this + handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and as + they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another kind + word to the brave young man. + </p> + <p> + “Gentleman,” she said, giving him a chain from her neck, “wear this for + me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means.” + </p> + <p> + Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the handsome + wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first sight. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Celia, “wrestle with thy affections.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” answered Rosalind, “they take the part of a better wrestler than + myself. Look, here comes the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + “With his eyes full of anger,” said Celia. + </p> + <p> + “You must leave the Court at once,” he said to Rosalind. “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="chain" id="chain"></a> “Never mind why,” answered the Duke, “you + are banished. If within ten days you are found within twenty miles of my + Court, you die.” + </p> + <p> + So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest + of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was + rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as a + young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said that + she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very tired when + at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were sitting on the + grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede asked him if he could get + them food. He did so, and told them that a shepherd's flocks and house + were to be sold. They bought these and settled down as shepherd and + shepherdess in the forest. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's life, + Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the rightful + Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando could think + of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest carving her name on + trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on the bushes, and there + Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met them, but he did not + know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked the pretty shepherd + youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her he loved. + </p> + <p> + “There is a foolish lover,” said Rosalind, “who haunts these woods and + hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him of + his folly.” + </p> + <p> + Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--“If + you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I + will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, + till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her.” + </p> + <p> + And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to + her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had the + fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the right + ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep + on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for + the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on + anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and saw + that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his life. He + fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's life. + </p> + <p> + While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, + whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk of + his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged + Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The + lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to see + the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena + was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she fell + in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger Orlando + had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said truly enough, + “I should have been a woman by right.” + </p> + <p> + Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, “I love + Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and + live here as a shepherd.” + </p> + <p> + “Let your wedding be to-morrow,” said Orlando, “and I will ask the Duke + and his friends.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/ayli3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="faints" id="faints"></a> When Orlando told Ganymede how his + brother was to be married on the morrow, he added: “Oh, how bitter a thing + it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his + voic--“If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother + marries Aliena, shall you marry her.” + </p> + <p> + Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, and + Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, “If I bring in your daughter + Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?” “That I would,” said the + Duke, “if I had all kingdoms to give with her.” + </p> + <p> + “And you say you will have her when I bring her?” she said to Orlando. + “That would I,” he answered, “were I king of all kingdoms.” + </p> + <p> + Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's + clothes again, and after a while came back. + </p> + <p> + She turned to her father--“I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Then she said to Orlando, “I give myself to you, for I am yours.” “If + there be truth in sight,” he said, “you are my Rosalind.” + </p> + <p> + “I will have no father if you be not he,” she said to the Duke, and to + Orlando, “I will have no husband if you be not he.” + </p> + <p> + So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they lived + happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For Frederick + had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, and so gave + back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a monastery to pray + for forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A shepherd + and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she was herself + disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and all with such + pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere within four walls, + but only in the beautiful green wood. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="perditacolor" id="perditacolor"></a> <img + src="images/wtale2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Prince Florizel and Perdita + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="tale" id="tale">THE WINTER'S TALE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, King + of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated when + they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over his kingdom. + After many years, when each was married and had a son, Polixenes came to + stay with Leontes in Sicily. + </p> + <p> + Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into + his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than she + did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, nothing + could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to put a + poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this wicked + action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. He then + told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from the Court + of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo lived on as + Polixenes' friend and counselor. + </p> + <p> + Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the throne, + died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly treated. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="coast" id="coast"></a> While the Queen was in prison she had a + little baby, and a friend of hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in + its best, and took it to show the King, thinking that the sight of his + helpless little daughter would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, + who had never done him any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than + he deserved; but the King would not look at the baby, and ordered + Paulina's husband to take it away in a ship, and leave it in the most + desert and dreadful place he could find, which Paulina's husband, very + much against his will, was obliged to do. + </p> + <p> + Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring + Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except + Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, + Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But + he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that + they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + </p> + <p> + “Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, + Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if that + which is lost be not found.” + </p> + <p> + Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The poor + Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how wicked + and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were with the + Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina came back in a + few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="look" id="look"></a> Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his + folly. His Queen was dead, and the little daughter who might have been a + comfort to him he had sent away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life + had nothing left for him now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed + in any sad years in prayer and remorse. + </p> + <p> + The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom + where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell Leontes + where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the ship, he met a + bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + </p> + <p> + But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was richly + dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to her + cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble + parents. + </p> + <p> + The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to his + wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more teaching + than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from her royal + mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different from the + other maidens in the village where she lived. + </p> + <p> + One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was bunting + near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a charming + woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that he was the + Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he was a private + gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty Perdita, he came + almost daily to see her. + </p> + <p> + The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every + day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that the + heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty shepherd + girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, disguised himself, + and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise too, to the old shepherd's + house. They arrived at the feast of sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, + they were made very welcome. There was dancing going on, and a peddler was + selling ribbons and laces and gloves, which the young men bought for their + sweethearts. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, but + sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners and + great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of his + old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + </p> + <p> + “This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green sward. + Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than + herself--too noble for this place.” + </p> + <p> + And Camillo answered, “In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream.” + </p> + <p> + But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the + strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King + made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw + Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and + with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed + with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="perdita" id="perdita"></a> Camillo had long known how sorry + Leontes was for that foolish madness of his, and he longed to go back to + Sicily to see his old master. He now proposed that the young people should + go there and claim the protection of Leontes. So they went, and the + shepherd went with them, taking Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and + the paper he had found pinned to her cloak. + </p> + <p> + Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince + Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was like + the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + </p> + <p> + “Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly + sent her from me.” + </p> + <p> + When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who + had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the + child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told his + tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that Perdita + was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and rewarded the + good shepherd. + </p> + <p> + Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with Perdita, + but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, he was only + too glad to give his consent. + </p> + <p> + Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, who + should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's happiness, + was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for a long time + but-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thy mother! thy mother!” and ask forgiveness of the King of Bohemia, + and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, and then + thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="talking" id="talking"></a> Then Paulina, who had been high all + these years in the King's favor, because of her kindness to the dead Queen + Hermione, said--“I have a statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a + piece many years in doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, + Giulio Romano. I keep it in a private house apart, and there, ever since + you lost your Queen, I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please + your Majesty to go and see the statue?” + </p> + <p> + So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and their + attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple curtain + screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the curtain, said-- + </p> + <p> + “She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead + likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand of man + hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it is--behold, and + say, 'tis well.” + </p> + <p> + And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The + King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I like your silence,” said Paulina; “it the more shows off your wonder. + But speak, is it not like her?” + </p> + <p> + “It is almost herself,” said the King, “and yet, Paulina, Hermione was not + so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not by much,” said Polixenes. + </p> + <p> + “Al,” said Paulina, “that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her + to us as she would have been had she lived till now.” + </p> + <p> + And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + </p> + <p> + “If I had known,” said Paulina, “that this poor image would so have + stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you.” + </p> + <p> + But he only answered, “Do not draw the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you must not look any longer,” said Paulina, “or you will think it + moves.” + </p> + <p> + “Let be! let be!” said the King. “Would you not think it breathed?” + </p> + <p> + “I will draw the curtain,” said Paulina; “you will think it lives + presently.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/wtale6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hermione" id="hermione"></a> “Ah, sweet Paulina,” said Leontes, + “make me to think so twenty years together.” + </p> + <p> + “If you can bear it,” said Paulina, “I can make the statue move, make it + come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by wicked + magic.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from + its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's + neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was no + statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived hidden, + by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover herself to + her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she could not quite + forgive him till she knew what had become of her little baby. + </p> + <p> + Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it was + like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + </p> + <p> + Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + </p> + <p> + To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment + when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love around + him once again. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="lear" id="lear">KING LEAR</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his kingdom, + and wished only to end his days quietly near his three daughters. Two of + his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall; and the + Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both suitors for the hand of + Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + </p> + <p> + Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed + to divide his kingdom between them. “But first,” said he, “I should like + to know much you love me.” + </p> + <p> + Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father + at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him dearer + than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, beauty, + and honor. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="france" id="france"></a> “I love you as much as my sister and + more,” professed Regan, “since I care for nothing but my father's love.” + </p> + <p> + Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his + youngest daughter, Cordelia. “Now, our joy, though last not least,” he + said, “the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, my lord,” answered Cordelia. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + And Cordelia answered, “I love your Majesty according to my duty--no more, + no less.” + </p> + <p> + And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her + sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of + duty to their old father. + </p> + <p> + “I am your daughter,” she went on, “and you have brought me up and loved + me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, + love you, and most honor you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="regan" id="regan"></a> Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished + her to make more extravagant professions of love than her sisters. “Go,” + he said, “be for ever a stranger to my heart and me.” + </p> + <p> + The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried to + say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided the + kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only keep + a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by turns. + </p> + <p> + When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the + kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was + wiser, and said, “Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, + and our fair France.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her, take her,” said the King; “for I will never see that face of + hers again.” + </p> + <p> + So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having + ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now + went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her + father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred + knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful to + him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended that + they did not hear them. + </p> + <p> + Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would go + into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of a + servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two + friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his Fool, + who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his knights + only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she begged + him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + </p> + <p> + “My train are men who know all parts of duty,” said Lear. “Goneril, I will + not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter.” + </p> + <p> + And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the castle + of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in professions of + attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in undutiful conduct, + saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on him, and Goneril (who + had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any kindness to the old King) + said five were too many, since her servants could wait on him. + </p> + <p> + Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, he + left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the heath + half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. But + presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last + persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the Earl + of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court of + France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + </p> + <p> + Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. Here + she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a crown of + nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed him, and + Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “You must bear with me,” said Lear; “forget and forgive. I am old and + foolish.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/klear3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="prison" id="prison"></a> And now he knew at last which of his + children it was that had loved him best, and who was worthy of his love. + </p> + <p> + Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were + successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then + Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not + known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and + when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she was, + she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly poison to + her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and though + the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The old King + came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying the body of + his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + </p> + <p> + And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with her + still in his arms, and died. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="twelfth" id="twelfth">TWELFTH NIGHT</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful + Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained his + suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the Duke, + bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not let the + very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk veiled; and + all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she would keep fresh + and lasting in her sad remembrance. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="captain" id="captain"></a> The Duke longed for someone to whom he + could tell his sorrow, and repeat over and over again the story of his + love. And chance brought him such a companion. For about this time a + goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian coast, and among those who reached + land in safety were the captain and a fair young maid, named Viola. But + she was little grateful for being rescued from the perils of the sea, + since she feared that her twin brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to + her as the heart in her bosom, and so like her that, but for the + difference in their manner of dress, one could hardly be told from the + other. The captain, for her comfort, told her that he had seen her brother + bind himself “to a strong mast that lived upon the sea,” and that thus + there was hope that he might be saved. + </p> + <p> + Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young Duke + Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, she + decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment with + him as a page. + </p> + <p> + In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the + story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, but + soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that his + hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad to woo + Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when she came + to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious man, sick, as + his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger admittance. + </p> + <p> + Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, + and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her + instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, + “We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy.” + </p> + <p> + When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent + away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger + from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the + supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some + love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="olivia" id="olivia"></a> “He left this ring behind him,” she + said, taking one from her finger. “Tell him I will none of it.” + </p> + <p> + Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly + well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness + that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart + for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + </p> + <p> + It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease the + pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario stood by + his side. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said the Duke to his page that night, “you too have been in love.” + </p> + <p> + “A little,” answered Viola. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of woman is it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Of your complexion,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “What years, i' faith?” was his next question. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/tnight3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="love" id="love"></a> To this came the pretty answer, “About your + years, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + “Too old, by Heaven!” cried the Duke. “Let still the woman take an elder + than herself.” + </p> + <p> + And Viola very meekly said, “I think it well, my lord.” + </p> + <p> + By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead his + love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + </p> + <p> + “If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! that cannot be,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “But I know,” Viola went on, “what love woman may have for a man. My + father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be,” she added blushing, + “perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is her history?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A blank, my lord,” Viola answered. “She never told her love, but let + concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she pined in + thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like Patience on + a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” + </p> + <p> + “But died thy sister of her love, my boy?” the Duke asked; and Viola, who + had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty fashion, + said-- + </p> + <p> + “I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall I + go to the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “To her in haste,” said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the story, + “and give her this jewel.” + </p> + <p> + So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, and + openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her + hastily, saying-- + </p> + <p> + “Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you.” + </p> + <p> + But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel for + other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, sent a + messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no heart to + refuse the request. + </p> + <p> + But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the + jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who + at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. + This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew + to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel + between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced + Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The poor + page, in great terror, said-- + </p> + <p> + “I will return again to the house, I am no fighter.” + </p> + <p> + “Back you shall not to the house,” said Sir Toby, “unless you fight me + first.” + </p> + <p> + And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to + await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in a + great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her sword, + and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for them both, + at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, and stopped + the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she might, while + Sir Toby called after her-- + </p> + <p> + “A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!” + </p> + <p> + Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all the + dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he determined + to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he passed Olivia's + house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and whom should he meet + but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking Sebastian for the + cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and walking up to him + struck him, saying, “There's for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, there's for you; and there, and there!” said Sebastian, bitting back + a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to the rescue + of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir Toby's + clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but that + Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and with + many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning to + Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with many + a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + </p> + <p> + Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, readily + consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, they were + married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or Sebastian + was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her + himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her door, + and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for leaving + her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and wholesome to + her as howling after music. + </p> + <p> + “Still so cruel?” said Orsino. + </p> + <p> + “Still so constant,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on + her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. “Come, boy,” he said + to the page. + </p> + <p> + And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, “I, to do you rest, a + thousand deaths would die.” + </p> + <p> + A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, “Cesario, husband, + stay!” + </p> + <p> + “Her husband?” asked the Duke angrily. + </p> + <p> + “No, my lord, not I,” said Viola. + </p> + <p> + “Call forth the holy father,” cried Olivia. + </p> + <p> + And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared + Cesario to be the bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + “O thou dissembling cub!” the Duke exclaimed. “Farewell, and take her, but + go where thou and I henceforth may never meet.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that + Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + </p> + <p> + “I never hurt you,” said Viola, very positively; “you drew your sword on + me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not.” + </p> + <p> + Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their + thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, madam,” he said to his wife, “I have hurt your kinsman. + Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago.” + </p> + <p> + “One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!” cried the Duke, looking + first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + </p> + <p> + “An apple cleft in two,” said one who knew Sebastian, “is not more twin + than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?” + </p> + <p> + “I never had a brother,” said Sebastian. “I had a sister, whom the blind + waves and surges have devoured.” “Were you a woman,” he said to Viola, “I + should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, + drowned Viola!'” + </p> + <p> + Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she + was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is + akin to love. + </p> + <p> + “Boy,” he said, “thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never shouldst + love woman like to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And all those sayings will I overswear,” Viola replied, “and all those + swearings keep true.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me thy hand,” Orsino cried in gladness. “Thou shalt be my wife, and + my fancy's queen.” + </p> + <p> + Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian a + constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="nothing" id="nothing">MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious + storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + </p> + <p> + It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had gained + so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence they came is + forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of war, Don Pedro + came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his stepbrother Don + John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. + Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in + love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + </p> + <p> + One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in a + musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated + through the open window. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hero" id="hero"></a> “Give me your candid opinion of Hero,” + Claudio, asked, and Borachio settled himself for comfortable listening. + </p> + <p> + “Too short and brown for praise,” was Benedick's reply; “but alter her + color or height, and you spoil her.” + </p> + <p> + “In my eyes she is the sweetest of women,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Not in mine,” retorted Benedick, “and I have no need for glasses. She is + like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you set + her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury.” + </p> + <p> + Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and + severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She was + wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not + therefore be dull. + </p> + <p> + Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said + good-humoredly, “Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?” + </p> + <p> + “I am longing,” answered Benedick, “for your Grace to command me to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me,” said Don Pedro, + falling in with his humor. + </p> + <p> + “I can be as dumb as a mute,” apologized Benedick to Claudio, “but his + Grace commands my speech.” To Don Pedro he said, “Claudio is in love with + Hero, Leonato's short daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When + Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, “Be steadfast in your love for + Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a + masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio + loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his + consent to your union.” + </p> + <p> + Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a + Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to + plead for you. + </p> + <p> + Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he had an + enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's stepbrother + Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro preferred him to + Don John. + </p> + <p> + It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation + which he had overheard. + </p> + <p> + “I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself,” said Don John when + Borachio ceased speaking. + </p> + <p> + On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was + Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + </p> + <p> + They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, + “Signor Benedick, I believe?” “The same,” fibbed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “I should be much obliged then,” said Don John, “if you would use your + influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is beneath + him in rank.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know he loves her?” inquired Claudio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ursula" id="ursula"></a> “I heard him swear his affection,” was + the reply, and Borachio chimed in with, “So did I too.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince had + betrayed him. “Farewell, Hero,” he muttered; “I was a fool to trust to an + agent.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk + exchange of opinions. + </p> + <p> + “Did Benedick ever make you laugh?” asked she. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Benedick?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “A Prince's jester,” replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that “I + would not marry her,” he declared afterwards, “if her estate were the + Garden of Eden.” + </p> + <p> + But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor + Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and + brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing + before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, “Claudio, when would you + like to go to church?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow,” was the prompt answer. “Time goes on crutches till I marry + Hero.” + </p> + <p> + “Give her a week, my dear son,” said Leonato, and Claudio's heart thumped + with joy. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said the amiable Don Pedro, “we must find a wife for Signor + Benedick. It is a task for Hercules.” + </p> + <p> + “I will help you,” said Leonato, “if I have to sit up ten nights.” + </p> + <p> + Then Hero spoke. “I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband + for Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio a + lesson for nothing. + </p> + <p> + Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he was + confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was a + fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this plan + of hate. + </p> + <p> + Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. “If,” he + said to Leonato, “we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to overhear us, + that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, see his good + qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we don't know he is + listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful Beatrice should be in + love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he will certainly be on his + knees before her in a week or less.” + </p> + <p> + So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat down + outside it with Leonato, and said, “Your daughter told me something about + a letter she wrote.” + </p> + <p> + “Letter!” exclaimed Leonato. “She will get up twenty times in the night + and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words + 'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up.” + </p> + <p> + “Hero told me,” said Claudio, “that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'” + </p> + <p> + Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was + vain enough to believe. “She is fair and good,” he said to himself. “I + must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of course; + but their paper bullets will do me no harm.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, “Against my + will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Fair Beatrice, I thank you,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me,” was the + rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + </p> + <p> + But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of + her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + </p> + <p> + Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took + no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one + day, “Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are + talking about her in the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="benedick" id="benedick"></a> Having said this, she felt as sure that + Beatrice would overhear what was meant for her ears as if she had made an + appointment with her cousin. + </p> + <p> + In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and + Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + </p> + <p> + “But are you sure,” asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, “that + Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?” + </p> + <p> + “So say the Prince and my betrothed,” replied Hero, “and they wished me to + tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and + scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making + game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away like + a covered fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't agree with you,” said Ursula. “I think your cousin is too + clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick.” “He is the one man in + Italy, except Claudio,” said Hero. + </p> + <p> + The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, + stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, “Poor dear Benedick, + be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine.” + </p> + <p> + We now return to the plan of hate. + </p> + <p> + The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered a + room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio if + he intended to be married to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + “You know he does!” said Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “He may know differently,” said Don John, “when he has seen what I will + show him if he will follow me.” + </p> + <p> + They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of + Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + </p> + <p> + Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, “I will shame her for it + to-morrow!” Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; she + was Margaret. + </p> + <p> + Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the + garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + </p> + <p> + The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the + street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, + and told what he had done. + </p> + <p> + A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a + thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore + arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in prison. + </p> + <p> + Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at + church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her + wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The priest was Friar Francis. + </p> + <p> + Turning to Claudio, he said, “You come hither, my lord, to marry this + lady?” “No!” contradicted Claudio. + </p> + <p> + Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. “You should have said, + Friar,” said he, “'You come to be married to her.'” + </p> + <p> + Friar Francis turned to Hero. “Lady,” he said, “you come hither to be + married to this Count?” “I do,” replied Hero. + </p> + <p> + “If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to + utter it,” said the Friar. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know of any, Hero?” asked Claudio. “None,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Know you of any, Count?” demanded the Friar. “I dare reply for him, + 'None,'” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + Claudio exclaimed bitterly, “O! what will not men dare say! Father,” he + continued, “will you give me your daughter?” “As freely,” replied Leonato, + “as God gave her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what can I give you,” asked Claudio, “which is worthy of this gift?” + “Nothing,” said Don Pedro, “unless you give the gift back to the giver.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweet Prince, you teach me,” said Claudio. “There, Leonato, take her + back.” + </p> + <p> + These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don + Pedro and Don John. + </p> + <p> + The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as she + could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except her + father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, “Hence + from her! Let her die!” + </p> + <p> + But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the + soul. “She is innocent,” he said; “a thousand signs have told me so.” + </p> + <p> + Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew not + what to think, and the Friar said, “They have left her as one dead with + shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, and + slander turns to remorse.” + </p> + <p> + “The Friar advises well,” said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a + retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + </p> + <p> + Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. “Surely I do believe + your fair cousin is wronged,” he said. She still wept. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not strange,” asked Benedick, gently, “that I love nothing in the + world as well as you?” + </p> + <p> + “It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you,” said + Beatrice, “but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what to do for her,” said Benedick. “Kill Claudio.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! not for the wide world,” said Benedick. “Your refusal kills me,” said + Beatrice. “Farewell.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough! I will challenge him,” cried Benedick. + </p> + <p> + During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were + examined by a constable called Dogberry. + </p> + <p> + The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he + had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + </p> + <p> + Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now + thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved + father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a + friendly way, he said to the Italian, “You have slandered my child to + death, and I challenge you to combat.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot fight an old man,” said Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “You could kill a girl,” sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + </p> + <p> + Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were feeling + scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + </p> + <p> + “The old man,” said Claudio, “was like to have snapped my nose off.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a villain!” said Benedick, shortly. “Fight me when and with what + weapon you please, or I call you a coward.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio was astounded, but said, “I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I can't + carve a calf's head.” + </p> + <p> + Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, + the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for justice. + </p> + <p> + The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + </p> + <p> + “What offence,” said Don Pedro, “are these men charged with?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/maan4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="francis" id="francis"></a> Borachio thought the moment a happy + one for making a clean breast of it. He laid the whole blame on Don John, + who had disappeared. “The lady Hero being dead,” he said, “I desire + nothing but the reward of a murderer.” + </p> + <p> + Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + </p> + <p> + Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, “This slave makes clear + your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + </p> + <p> + “Leonato,” said Don Pedro, humbly, “I am ready for any penance you may + impose.” + </p> + <p> + “I ask you both, then,” said Leonato, “to proclaim my daughter's + innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for + you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero + that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings die.” + </p> + <p> + “Noble sir,” said Claudio, “I am yours.” Claudio then went to his room and + composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his + attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he + had ended he said, “Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this.” + </p> + <p> + He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made ready + to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in Leonato's + house, and was faithful to his appointment. + </p> + <p> + He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several + masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick were + present. + </p> + <p> + Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Sweet,” said the young man, “let me see your face.” + </p> + <p> + “Swear first to marry her,” said Leonato. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your hand,” said Claudio to the lady; “before this holy friar I + swear to marry you if you will be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Alive I was your wife,” said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + </p> + <p> + “Another Hero!” exclaimed Claudio. + </p> + <p> + “Hero died,” explained Leonato, “only while slander lived.” + </p> + <p> + The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick + interrupted him with, “Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is Beatrice?” + </p> + <p> + Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, “You love me, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only moderately,” was the reply. “Do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Moderately,” answered Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “I was told you were well-nigh dead for me,” remarked Beatrice. + </p> + <p> + “Of you I was told the same,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + “Here's your own hand in evidence of your love,” said Claudio, producing a + feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. “And here,” + said Hero, “is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the pocket of + Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “A miracle!” exclaimed Benedick. “Our hands are against our hearts! Come, + I will marry you, Beatrice.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be my husband to save your life,” was the rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he had + married Claudio and Hero. + </p> + <p> + “How is Benedick the married man?” asked Don Pedro. + </p> + <p> + “Too happy to be made unhappy,” replied Benedick. “Crack what jokes you + will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but as + you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin.” + </p> + <p> + “My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day,” said Claudio; + but, “Come, come, let's dance,” said Benedick. + </p> + <p> + And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was able + to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not sweet + against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="julietcolor" id="julietcolor"></a> <img src="images/rj2.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Romeo and + Juliet + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="rj" id="rj">ROMEO AND JULIET</a> + </h2> + <p> + Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu + and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, in + most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were extremely + silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, and instead + of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of pet of their + quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu wouldn't speak to + a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet to a Montagu--or if + they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant things, which often + ended in a fight. And their relations and servants were just as foolish, + so that street fights and duels and uncomfortablenesses of that kind were + always growing out of the Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + </p> + <p> + Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper + and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to it + except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named + Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he + loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and he + had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love + somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love the + wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends + Mercutio and Benvolio. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="fight" id="fight"></a> Old Capulet welcomed him and his two + friends very kindly--and young Romeo moved about among the crowd of + courtly folk dressed in their velvets and satins, the men with jeweled + sword hilts and collars, and the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and + arms, and stones of price set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his + best too, and though he wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone + could see by his mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he + was twelve times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + </p> + <p> + Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable that + from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline whom he + had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as she moved + in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world seemed vain + and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying this, or + something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing his voice, + knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at once to his uncle, + and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the feast; but old + Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to any man under his + own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young man only waited for + a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in sweet + words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent for + her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his heart's + hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. So he went + away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj3.gif" alt="Please keep photowith html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet" id="juliet"></a> Then Juliet said to her nurse: + </p> + <p> + “Who is that gentleman that would not dance?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy,” + answered the nurse. + </p> + <p> + Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the + beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was + hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go + right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to be + there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how she + loved Romeo. + </p> + <p> + And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked up + and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming creepers + that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he felt as + though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some magician + in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + </p> + <p> + “Ah--why are you called Romeo?” said Juliet. “Since I love you, what does + it matter what you are called?” + </p> + <p> + “Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be + Romeo,” he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade of + the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + </p> + <p> + She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, + and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below + and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one trying + to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant talk that + lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music their + voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you children + may read it for yourselves some day. + </p> + <p> + And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other + and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though + they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + </p> + <p> + “I will send to you to-morrow,” said Juliet. + </p> + <p> + And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + </p> + <p> + Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. Romeo + went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, and, + telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet without + delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + </p> + <p> + So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he + purposed to do, the old woman took back a a message that all was well, and + all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next morning. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="juliet2" id="juliet2"></a> The young lovers were afraid to ask + their parents' consent to their marriage, as young people should do, + because of this foolish old quarrel between the Capulets and the + Montagues. + </p> + <p> + And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, because + he thought that when they were once married their parents might soon be + told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old quarrel. + </p> + <p> + So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar + Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to + come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder + to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to his + dear wife quietly and alone. + </p> + <p> + But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + </p> + <p> + Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the + Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in + the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no + wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and he + and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this + friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had + killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + </p> + <p> + So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's cousin, + and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young husband met + that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the flowers, and found + her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they parted with bitter + tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know when they should meet + again. + </p> + <p> + Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, + wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she + refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. + He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two + days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and + not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, + and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. Will + you do this, or are you afraid?” + </p> + <p> + “I will do it; talk not to me of fear!” said Juliet. And she went home and + told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and told her + father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a different story. + </p> + <p> + Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about + inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone stayed + up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little time to do + it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because he saw she + was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her husband + Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of her cousin + Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else to think + about. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her for + her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out + suddenly-- + </p> + <p> + “Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was + born!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the + bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their + weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a + marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a + letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been + well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="dead" id="dead"></a> But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant + who knew the secret of the marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, + heard of her funeral, and hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young + wife was dead and lying in the grave. + </p> + <p> + “Is it so?” cried Romeo, heart-broken. “Then I will lie by Juliet's side + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He + hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a + vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps + that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a + voice behind him calling on him to stop. + </p> + <p> + It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you + vile Montagu?” cried Paris. + </p> + <p> + Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + </p> + <p> + “You were told,” said Paris, “that if you returned to Verona you must + die.” + </p> + <p> + “I must indeed,” said Romeo. “I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle + youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better than + myself--go--leave me here--” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/rj6.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tomb" id="tomb"></a> Then Paris said, “I defy you, and I arrest + you as a felon,” and Romeo, in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They + fought, and Paris was killed. + </p> + <p> + As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with + Juliet!” + </p> + <p> + And Romeo said, “In faith I will.” + </p> + <p> + And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear + Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held her in + his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, while all + the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her awakening. + Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and wife. + </p> + <p> + Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had + happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband + and her friend both dead beside her. + </p> + <p> + The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and Friar + Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She saw the + cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and since no + poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust it through + her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's breast, she died. + And here ends the story of these faithful and most unhappy lovers. + </p> + <p> + * * * * * * * + </p> + <p> + And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had befallen, + they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief their wicked + quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the bodies of + their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship and + forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="pericles" id="pericles"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="perciles" id="perciles">PERICLES</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an + enemy of Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great + was the danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty + counselor, Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a + time. He came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his + father, he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing + Helicanus Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving + his kingdom was soon made clear. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from + Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The + faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked lord, + and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the danger which + threatened him. + </p> + <p> + The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, + feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But a + dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel was + wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised and wet + and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of Pentapolis, + the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, he looked for + nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, coming down to + the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade him be of good + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “Thou shalt come home with me,” said one of them, “and we will have flesh + for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and flapjacks, + and thou shalt be welcome.” + </p> + <p> + They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going to + the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his daughter, + the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + </p> + <p> + “Did but my fortunes equal my desires,” said Pericles, “I'd wish to make + one there.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it + dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it + in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, he + blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, which + had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen to let + him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the tournament, + promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would reward them + well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully equipped, + Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + </p> + <p> + In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the + wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. + Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he came; + and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, but he did + not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he knew that if + once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life would not be + worth a pin's purchase. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with his + courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter to have + her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger knight or die. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="tournament" id="tournament"></a> Thus Pericles became the husband + of the fair lady for whose sake he had striven with the knights who came + in all their bravery to joust and tourney for her love. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, + hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant + throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become their + King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. Moreover, he + sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing Pericles. + </p> + <p> + Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King there, + told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, and that, + Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from returning + to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law who he + really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly rejoiced to + know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his own right. So + Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. But once more + the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke out, and while + it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that a little daughter + was born to him. This news would have made his heart glad indeed, but that + the servant went on to add that his wife--his dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + </p> + <p> + While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, the + sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown + overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long as a + dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest with + spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote these + lines: + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + “Here I give to understand + </p> + <p> + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + </p> + <p> + I, King Pericles, have lost + </p> + <p> + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + </p> + <p> + Who finds her, give her burying; + </p> + <p> + She was the daughter of a King; + </p> + <p> + Besides this treasure for a fee, + </p> + <p> + The gods requite his charity!” + </p> + <p> + <br /> Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by + and by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of + a lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he saw + how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took immediate + steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, who had been + thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling sure that she + would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the world, and + became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + </p> + <p> + While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his + little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at sea. + Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, the + King sailed for his own dominions. + </p> + <p> + Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and wicked + woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more accomplished and + charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to take Marina's life. + So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of her servants to take + her away and kill her. This villain would have done so, but that he was + interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried Marina off to sea with + them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold her as a slave. Yet such + was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, that she soon became honored + there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, fell deep in love with her, and + would have married her, but that he thought she must be of too humble + parentage to become the wife of one in his high position. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was + really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it to + King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see his + much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was terrible + to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed never to + wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion erected on deck, + and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke word to none. + </p> + <p> + At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and + Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel came. + When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he bethought him + of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King from his stupor, + sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade the King to speak, + promising whatever reward she would, if she succeeded. Marina gladly + obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and sang to her poor + grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he made no sign. So + presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might equal his, for, + though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that stood equal to mighty + kings. + </p> + <p> + Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked + up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his + lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her + tell her story. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/perci2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="marina" id="marina"></a> Then, with many interruptions from the + King, she told him who she was and how she had escaped from the cruel + Dionyza. So Pericles knew that this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed + her again and again, crying that his great seas of joy drowned him with + their sweetness. “Give me my robes,” he said: “O Heaven, bless my girl!” + </p> + <p> + Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of + heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a + vision. + </p> + <p> + “Go,” she said to him, “to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden + priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife.” + </p> + <p> + Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly had + he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, “You are--you are--O + royal Pericles!” fell fainting to the ground, and presently recovering, + she spoke again to him, “O my lord, are you not Pericles?” “The voice of + dead Thaisa!” exclaimed the King in wonder. “That Thaisa am I,” she said, + and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very truth. + </p> + <p> + Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found happiness + once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the pain of the + past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only in being restored + to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and became a princess in + the land where she had been sold as a slave. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="hamlet" id="hamlet">HAMLET</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father + and mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named + Ophelia. Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + </p> + <p> + While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young + Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung the + King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so + tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, + before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined to + marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + “It is not only the black I wear on my body,” he said, “that proves my + loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least + remembers him, and grieves still.” + </p> + <p> + Then said Claudius the King's brother, “This grief is unreasonable. Of + course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said Hamlet, bitterly, “I cannot in one little month forget those I + love.” + </p> + <p> + With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their + wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them both. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he + ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. It + seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the King, + so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, and could + not accuse Claudius. + </p> + <p> + And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, from + Wittenberg. + </p> + <p> + “What brought you here?” asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend + kindly. + </p> + <p> + “I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it was to see my mother's wedding,” said Hamlet, bitterly. “My + father! We shall not look upon his like again.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” answered Horatio, “I think I saw him yesternight.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="appears" id="appears"></a> Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, + Horatio told how he, with two gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's + ghost on the battlements. Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at + midnight, the ghost of the King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, + appeared on the battlements in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave + youth. Instead of running away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it + beckoned him he followed it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him + that what he had suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed + his good brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in + his orchard in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” said the ghost, “must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked + brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and she + is your mother. Remember me.” + </p> + <p> + Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Hamlet, “there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I + will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your + commands alone live on my brain.” + </p> + <p> + So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of the + ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled dawn + and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered father. + </p> + <p> + The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost + mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, he + determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended madness + in other matters. + </p> + <p> + And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, + and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that she + could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not + believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she + told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the + letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Doubt that the stars are fire; + </p> + <p> + Doubt that the sun doth move; + </p> + <p> + Doubt truth to be a liar; + </p> + <p> + But never doubt I love.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's + supposed madness was love. + </p> + <p> + Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and + yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his + father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the ghost + spoke truly. + </p> + <p> + Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them + to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play was + the story of a man <i>who had been murdered in his garden by a near + relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife.</i> + </p> + <p> + You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his throne, + with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, acted on the + stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And when, in the + play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the sleeping man, + the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the room--the Queen + and others following. + </p> + <p> + Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + </p> + <p> + “Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this + murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play.” + </p> + <p> + Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him for his + conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, wishing to + know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself behind the + hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen got frightened + at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and Polonius behind + the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the King who was hidden + there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and killed, not the King, + but poor old Polonius. + </p> + <p> + So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap killed + his true love's father. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="hamlet2" id="hamlet2"></a> “Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is + this,” cried the Queen. + </p> + <p> + And Hamlet answered bitterly, “Almost as bad as to kill a king, and marry + his brother.” Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts and how + he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more + friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good King. + And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, but the + Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + </p> + <p> + When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, + he said, “This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed + the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our plan, + and send him away to England.” + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, and + these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet should be + put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these letters, and + put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers who were so + ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, Hamlet escaped + on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left him to his fate, + and went on to meet theirs. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. + Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits + too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, and + flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking poor, + foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one day, coming + to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery garland on a + willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and so died. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/hamlet3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="ophelia" id="ophelia"></a> And Hamlet had loved her, though his + plan of seeming madness had made him hide it; and when he came back, he + found the King and Queen, and the Court, weeping at the funeral of his + dear love and lady. + </p> + <p> + Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice for + the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he leaped + into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + </p> + <p> + “I loved her more than forty thousand brothers,” cried Hamlet, and leapt + into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “I could not bear,” he said, “that any, even a brother, should seem to + love her more than I.” + </p> + <p> + But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes how + Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to slay + Hamlet by treachery. + </p> + <p> + Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were present. + Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes had prepared + for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the wicked King + had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant to give poor Hamlet + when he should grow warm with the sword play, and should call for drink. + </p> + <p> + So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave Hamlet + a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for they had been + fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with Laertes in a + struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked them up again, + Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt sword for + Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he pierced + Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Queen cried out, “The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear + Hamlet! I am poisoned!” + </p> + <p> + She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and + the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall dead + by his means. + </p> + <p> + Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and the + two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found courage + to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, if he had + braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives had been spared, + and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well deserved to die. + </p> + <p> + Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, + turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + </p> + <p> + “Then--venom--do thy work!” he cried, and the King died. + </p> + <p> + So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all + being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him + die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him with + their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of + Denmark. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="imogencolor" id="imogencolor"></a> <img + src="images/cymbel1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Imogen + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="cymbeline" id="cymbeline">CYMBELINE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two + sons were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and + he was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second + time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's + playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married him. + This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish Leonatus, + banished him from Britain. + </p> + <p> + Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was + not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, but + they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little + children. With many tears and kisses they said “Good-bye.” They promised + never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone else + as long as they lived. + </p> + <p> + “This diamond was my mother's, love,” said Imogen; “take it, my heart, and + keep it as long as you love me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sweetest, fairest,” answered Leonatus, “wear this bracelet for my sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” cried Imogen, weeping, “when shall we meet again?” + </p> + <p> + And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and + Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="imogen" id="imogen"></a> When he was come to Rome, where he had + gone to stay with an old friend of his father's, he spent his days still + in thinking of his dear Imogen, and his nights in dreaming of her. One day + at a feast some Italian and French noblemen were talking of their + sweethearts, and swearing that they were the most faithful and honorable + and beautiful ladies in the world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how + he had said many times that his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and + constant than any of the ladies in France. + </p> + <p> + “I say so still,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “She is not so good but that she would deceive,” said Iachimo, one of the + Italian nobles. + </p> + <p> + “She never would deceive,” said Leonatus. + </p> + <p> + “I wager,” said Iachimo, “that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your + wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “That you will never do,” said Leonatus. “I wager this ring upon my + finger,” which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, “that my + wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade her to + do otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's finger, + and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction to + Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all kindness; + but he was still determined to win his wager. + </p> + <p> + He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to + tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently + perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave her. + Then he said-- + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you + this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to + be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?” + </p> + <p> + “I forgive you freely,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” went on Iachimo, “perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of a + trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some + other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “I will indeed,” said Imogen, “do anything for my husband and a friend of + my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care of + them.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only for one night,” said Iachimo, “for I leave Britain again + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="trunk" id="trunk"></a> So the trunk was carried into Imogen's + room, and that night she went to bed and to sleep. When she was fast + asleep, the lid of the trunk opened and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The + story about the jewels was as untrue as the rest of the things he had + said. He had only wished to get into her room to win his wicked wager. He + looked about him and noticed the furniture, and then crept to the side of + the bed where Imogen was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet + which had been the parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the + trunk, and next morning sailed for Rome. + </p> + <p> + When he met Leonatus, he said-- + </p> + <p> + “I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no longer + thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her room, + which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and silver + andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed + talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the + servants.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Iachimo, “but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from her + arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet + enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the ring,” cried Leonatus, “you have won; and you might have won my + life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has forgotten + me.” + </p> + <p> + And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, + Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder her, + because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same time he + wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old servant, + to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to meet her. + </p> + <p> + Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its orders, + and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the letter + from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before he left, + the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be useful in + sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that Imogen would die, + and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the Queen thought this drink + was a poison, but really and truly it was only a sleeping-draft. + </p> + <p> + When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was + really in the letter he had had from her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I must go on to Rome, and see him myself,” said Imogen. + </p> + <p> + And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her on her + way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the drink he + had had from the Queen. + </p> + <p> + Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. + Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went in, + and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw there, + and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the cave. She + was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought that they + would be angry with her for taking their food, though she had meant to + leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they welcomed her + kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her face was good, + as well as pretty. + </p> + <p> + “You shall be our brother,” said both the boys; and so she stayed with + them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one + day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with the + two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine Pisanio + had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead creature, so + that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, they thought she + was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they carried her away and + laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + </p> + <p> + They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale primroses, + and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and went away + sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not knowing how + she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through the wood. + </p> + <p> + Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to + attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, who + had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come back, not + to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons against + Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the Roman General, + and took service with him as his page. + </p> + <p> + When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and + his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as a + British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline + prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued + the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners brought + before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, who had + put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life since he + had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, as a Roman + soldier, he would be put to death. + </p> + <p> + When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + </p> + <p> + “A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer,” he said. “If I must die, so be + it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let him be + ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, true. He + has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save him, Sir.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="stupefied" id="stupefied"></a> Then Cymbeline looked on the page, + who was his own daughter, Imogen, in disguise, and though he did not + recognize her, he felt such a kindness that he not only spared the boy's + life, but he said-- + </p> + <p> + “He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a + prisoner, the noblest taken.” + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen said, “The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from + whom he got the ring he has on his finger,” and she pointed to Iachimo. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” said Cymbeline, “how did you get that diamond?” + </p> + <p> + Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was + unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he + came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's + lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed + dead. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!” he cried. “Oh, Imogen! + </p> + <p> + Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, “Peace, my + lord--here, here!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/cymbel5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html." /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="leonatus" id="leonatus"></a> Leonatus turned to strike the + forward page who thus interfered in his great trouble, and then he saw + that it was his wife, Imogen, and they fell into each other's arms. + </p> + <p> + The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to + the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he + gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, and + the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + </p> + <p> + “I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had + only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole + your two sons, and see,--they are here!” And he brought forward the two + boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a + boy like themselves. + </p> + <p> + The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with + his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + </p> + <p> + So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever after. + So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the world's end. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="macbeth" id="macbeth">MACBETH</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two + stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of Scotland + by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly and well, on + the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part of Scottish + history. The other story issues from a place called Imagination; it is + gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + </p> + <p> + A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a battle + was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals named Macbeth + and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together towards Forres, + in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was awaiting them. + </p> + <p> + While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, + sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="witches" id="witches"></a> “Speak, who are you?” demanded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis,” said the first woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor,” said the second woman. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be,” said the third woman. + </p> + <p> + Then Banquo asked, “What of me?” and the third woman replied, “Thou shalt + be the father of kings.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me more,” said Macbeth. “By my father's death I am chieftain of + Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his + children live. Speak, I charge you!” + </p> + <p> + The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the + air. + </p> + <p> + Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, and + were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of them + thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and the + other said, “He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor.” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title was + to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, “The third witch + called me, 'King that is to be.'” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth2" id="macbeth2"></a> “Banquo,” he said, “you see that the + witches spoke truth concerning me. Do you not believe, therefore, that + your child and grandchild will be kings?” + </p> + <p> + Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he deemed + it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. He told + Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them both into + villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, however, + thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to keep to + himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + </p> + <p> + Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died in + defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by whose + order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder of bitter + wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she read his + letter, she was determined that he should be King. + </p> + <p> + When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in + Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + </p> + <p> + She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend a + sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are + blind. “We will speak further,” said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, with + his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared his + guest. + </p> + <p> + “Would you live a coward?” demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have + thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth3" id="macbeth3"></a> “I dare do all that may become a man,” + replied Macbeth; “who dare do more is none.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you write that letter to me?” she inquired fiercely, and with + bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she showed + him how to do it. + </p> + <p> + After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at + his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were + stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King + herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon + with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, “Methought I heard a + voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'” + </p> + <p> + “Wash your hands,” said she. “Why did you not leave the daggers by the + grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare not,” said Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a + heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + </p> + <p> + The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking which + could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain of + Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to him, + and showed him the door of the King's room. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="macbeth4" id="macbeth4"></a> Macduff entered, and came out again + crying, “O horror! horror! horror!” + </p> + <p> + Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he + could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms + with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + </p> + <p> + These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. One of + Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was King. But + he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed his mind. If + Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. Macbeth determined, + therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He hired two ruffians, who + slew Banquo one night when he was on his way with Fleance to a banquet + which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. Fleance escaped. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, and + he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of times + since his day--“Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both.” + </p> + <p> + “We pray your Majesty to sit with us,” said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but + ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall + and sat in Macbeth's place. + </p> + <p> + Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, he + could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry of + Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + </p> + <p> + The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's + ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + </p> + <p> + But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a form + of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, “Which of you have done + this?” + </p> + <p> + Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, “Thou + canst not say I did it.” + </p> + <p> + The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass of + wine “to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend + Banquo, whom we miss.” + </p> + <p> + The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “Begone!” cried Macbeth. “You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the earth, + thou horrible shadow.” + </p> + <p> + Again none saw the ghost but he. + </p> + <p> + “What is it your Majesty sees?” asked one of the nobles. + </p> + <p> + The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She + hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow + worse if he was obliged to talk. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches + whose prophecies had so depraved him. + </p> + <p> + He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round a + cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible + creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me what I ask you,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + “Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?” asked the first witch. + </p> + <p> + “Call them,” replied Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the + flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so + that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, “He knows + thy thought,” and a voice in the head said, “Macbeth, beware Macduff, the + chieftain of Fife.” The head then descended Into the cauldron till it + disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “One word more,” pleaded Macbeth. + </p> + <p> + “He will not be commanded,” said the first witch, and then a crowned child + ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child said-- + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + </p> + <p> + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “That will never be,” said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's + descendants would ever rule Scotland. + </p> + <p> + The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of + phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In each + king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + </p> + <p> + Then he was suddenly left alone. + </p> + <p> + His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They did + not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave a stinging + answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. “Thou liest!” shouted + Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and with his last + breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not leave the castle + while one of its inmates remained alive. + </p> + <p> + Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of + cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell + him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not speak + the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers relieved by + royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said that England + was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross blurted out his + news, and Macduff cried, “<i>All</i> dead, did you say? <i>All</i> my + pretty ones and their mother? Did you say <i>all</i>?” + </p> + <p> + His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into Macbeth's + castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force more solemn + than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was mad. She + walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash her hands + for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, would still + see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to hear her cry that + all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her little hand. + </p> + <p> + “Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?” inquired Macbeth of the + doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own + mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. “Throw physic to the + dogs,” he said; “I'll none of it.” + </p> + <p> + One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and + said, “The Queen, your Majesty, is dead.” “Out, brief candle,” muttered + Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of + air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + </p> + <p> + Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. + Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he + had made a mistake. “If you are right you can hang me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/macb5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="fight2" id="fight2"></a> From the turret windows of Dunsinane + Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed appear to be marching. Every soldier of the + English army held aloft a bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, + and like human trees they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and + the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single + combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when + Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, “Go back; I + have spilt too much of your blood already.” + </p> + <p> + “My voice is in my sword,” replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade him + yield. + </p> + <p> + “I will not yield!” said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + </p> + <p> + Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a + King's head by the hair. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, King!” he said; and the new King looked at the old. + </p> + <p> + So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the + descendants of Banquo were kings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + <a name="aemilia" id="aemilia"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="comedy" id="comedy">THE COMEDY OF ERRORS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His + wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, + and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the + Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had + been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were + exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the + same. + </p> + <p> + And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where these + children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born to a much + poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were the parents + of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the other twins. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, and in + treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed homewards. + </p> + <p> + They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the + crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of + their passengers. + </p> + <p> + AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the + slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining + children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and hoped + for safety. + </p> + <p> + The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and + AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from AEgeon + and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by some + people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the babies from + her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very miserable. + Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia Minor. + </p> + <p> + AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than AEmilia, + he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were eighteen. + His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he called Dromio; + and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the children who + floated away from him. + </p> + <p> + At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a + desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and + the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dromio" id="dromio"></a> Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary + to dwell in, and traveled for five years. He did not, during his absence, + learn all the news of Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was + arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of + Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky + enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had angrily + passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand pounds any + Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought before Solinus, + Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a thousand pounds + before the end of the day. + </p> + <p> + You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children + who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of + Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of Duke + Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and Dromio + of Ephesus. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of Syracuse + landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in order to + avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of Syracuse, + and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till he came. + </p> + <p> + In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, his + brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. “Why are + you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?” asked Antipholus of + Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on + the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that his + mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he asked + Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without delay. + His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he had not + fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found that his gold + had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + </p> + <p> + He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him + with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and + Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and + she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio of + Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. “Ay, you + may look as if you did not know me,” she said to the man who was really + her brother-in-law, “but I can remember when no words were sweet unless I + said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it I you address?” said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. “I do not know + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Fie, brother,” said Luciana. “You know perfectly well that she sent + Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;” and Adriana said, “Come, come; I + have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine with me + and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven.” + </p> + <p> + They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of + disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where a + very late “mid-day” dinner awaited them. + </p> + <p> + They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio + demanded admittance. “Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!” + shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by + heart. + </p> + <p> + From within came the reply, “Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!” It was + Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + </p> + <p> + Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and + finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his wife + that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to another + woman. + </p> + <p> + Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be her + sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone with him, + to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he was not + married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a mermaid, he + would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her floating + golden hair. + </p> + <p> + Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to Adriana, + who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be seen or + heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo the + goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which he + had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + </p> + <p> + The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated his + “I bespoke it not” as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took the + chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He offered + payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse" id="syracuse"></a> The consequence was that Angelo was + without money when a creditor of the sort that stands no nonsense, + threatened him with arrest unless he paid his debt immediately. This + creditor had brought a police officer with him, and Angelo was relieved to + see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of the house where he had been dining + because he had been locked out of The Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay + when Antipholus denied receipt of the chain. Angelo could have sent his + mother to prison if she had said that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus + in charge. + </p> + <p> + At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus + that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. To + the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He would + gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly telling + him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband a purse + of money which she would find in his desk. + </p> + <p> + Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had + been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from getting + the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master + immediately. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his + real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what he + meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further + surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he + had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of + Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. + “Avaunt, thou witch!” was the answer which, to her astonishment, she + received. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was to + have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger when + Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch a + purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the slave in + the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; and his temper + did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived under the + impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He raged so much + that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of Adriana spared him + this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of him, and asked the + doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="syracuse2" id="syracuse2"></a> Angelo's merchant creditor being + paid, the two were friendly again, and might soon have been seen chatting + before an abbey about the odd behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. “Softly,” + said the merchant at last, “that's he, I think.” + </p> + <p> + It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, and he + wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly pounced + upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the chain he had + the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his temper, and drew + his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several others appeared. “Hold!” + shouted the careful wife. “Hurt him not; he is mad. Take his sword away. + Bind him--and Dromio too.” + </p> + <p> + Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, + “Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!” + </p> + <p> + They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + </p> + <p> + Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, + and said, “People, why do you gather here?” + </p> + <p> + “To fetch my poor distracted husband,” replied Adriana. + </p> + <p> + Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was mad. + </p> + <p> + Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, for + the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that if her + husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the present. + </p> + <p> + Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and + behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two + others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had + not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + </p> + <p> + Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a + woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing + his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + </p> + <p> + The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the order + than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that his + master had singed off the doctor's beard. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Adriana, “he's in the abbey.” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I live I speak the truth,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his brother + of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, “Justice, + most gracious Duke, against that woman.” He pointed to Adriana. “She has + treated another man like her husband in my own house.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/errors4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="amelia" id="amelia"></a> Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, + “Unless I am delirious, I see my son Antipholus.” + </p> + <p> + No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the + doctor, whom he called “a threadbare juggler,” had been one of a gang who + tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he had + escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + </p> + <p> + The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was seen + to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked + Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, “I never saw my + father in my life;” but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to the + brother whom he had brought up, that he said, “Thou art ashamed to + acknowledge me in misery.” + </p> + <p> + Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio + of Syracuse. + </p> + <p> + Then cried Adriana, “I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;” and + Antipholus, espying his father, said, “Thou art AEgeon or his ghost.” + </p> + <p> + It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, “I will free that man by + paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I am + thy wife AEmilia.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke was touched. “He is free without a fine,” he said. + </p> + <p> + So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband + reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in + the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, “I told you I loved you. + Will you be my wife?” + </p> + <p> + Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + </p> + <p> + The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="casketcolor" id="casketcolor"></a> <img + src="images/venice1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Choosing the Casket + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="venice" id="venice">THE MERCHANT OF VENICE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were + on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with + England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very + generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of + his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + </p> + <p> + Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless + and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his + fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio for + further help. + </p> + <p> + “To you, Antonio,” he said, “I owe the most in money and in love: and I + have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Say what I can do, and it shall be done,” answered his friend. + </p> + <p> + Then said Bassanio, “In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all + quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because + she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked on + me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should win + her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to + Belmont, where she lives.” + </p> + <p> + “All my fortunes,” said Antonio, “are at sea, and so I have no ready + money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for you + what you need.” + </p> + <p> + There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named + Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated him + with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a cur, + over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted to all + these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he cherished + a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio both hurt his + pride and injured his business. “But for him,” thought Shylock, “I should + be richer by half a million ducats. On the market place, and wherever he + can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, and--worse than that--he + lends out money freely.” + </p> + <p> + So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats to + Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to Antonio, + said--“Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with you and + have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no interest. + But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be agreed that + if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall have the right + to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of your body I choose.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Bassanio to his friend, “you shall run no such risk for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, fear not,” said Antonio, “my ships will be home a month before the + time. I will sign the bond.” + </p> + <p> + Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to woo + the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's pretty + daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her lover, and + she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of ducats and + precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to see. His love + for her changed to hate. “I would she were dead at my feet and the jewels + in her ear,” he cried. His only comfort now was in hearing of the serious + losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose ships were wrecked. “Let + him look to his bond,” said Shylock, “let him look to his bond.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. + He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and beauty + had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them Portia had + but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would pledge himself + to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were conditions that + frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would win Portia's heart + and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held her portrait. If he + guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if wrong, then he was + bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, never to marry, and + to go away at once. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="morocco" id="morocco"></a> The caskets were of gold, silver, and + lead. The gold one bore this inscription:--“Who chooseth me shall gain + what many men desire;” the silver one had this:--“Who chooseth me shall + get as much as he deserves;” while on the lead one were these words:--“Who + chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” The Prince of Morocco, as + brave as he was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He + chose the gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could + contain her picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the + likeness of what many men desire--death. + </p> + <p> + After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, “Let me have + what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady,” he chose the silver one, and + found inside a fool's head. “Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?” he + cried. + </p> + <p> + Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from making + his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved him dearly, + even as he loved her. “But,” said Bassanio, “let me choose at once, for, + as I am, I live upon the rack.” + </p> + <p> + Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant + lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the + caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. “Mere outward show,” he + said, “is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and + so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; joy + be the consequence!” And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait + inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bond" id="bond"></a> “Yes,” said Portia, “I am yours, and this house + is yours, and with them I give you this ring, from which you must never + part.” + </p> + <p> + And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to + swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers + came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock + demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was + entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as + Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + </p> + <p> + “First,” she said, “take me to church and make me your wife, and then go + to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money + enough to pay his debt twenty times over.” + </p> + <p> + But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and + arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from a + celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in to + decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of + Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the + money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's + only answer was-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + </p> + <p> + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + </p> + <p> + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her + own husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great + Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. Then + in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her + entreaties. “I will have the pound of flesh,” was his reply. + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say?” asked Portia of the merchant. + </p> + <p> + “But little,” he answered; “I am armed and well prepared.” + </p> + <p> + “The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh,” said Portia to the + money-lender. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="home" id="home"></a> “Most righteous judge!” cried Shylock. “A + sentence: come, prepare.” + </p> + <p> + “Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only to + his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property will + be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law.” + </p> + <p> + And Shylock, in his fear, said, “Then I will take Bassanio's offer.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Portia sternly, “you shall have nothing but your bond. Take + your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even by + the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life.” + </p> + <p> + Shylock now grew very much frightened. “Give me my three thousand ducats + that I lent him, and let him go.” + </p> + <p> + Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, “No! He shall have + nothing but his bond.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/venice5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ring" id="ring"></a> “You, a foreigner,” she added, “have sought to + take the life of a Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your + life and goods are forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.” + </p> + <p> + Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to Shylock + had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender forfeited half + his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other half on his + daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + </p> + <p> + Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part with + the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised never to + part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to Portia, + she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with him until + she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was she who, in + the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and got the ring + from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier than ever, to know + how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the caskets. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="timon" id="timon">TIMON OF ATHENS</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens + whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but no + worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If + anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. + If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was + offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he + would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in + front of Timon to receive double its market price. + </p> + <p> + Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. + When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly + wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, + “There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those + singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a + night;” and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of + his master's friends, “O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees + them not!” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="timon2" id="timon2"></a> Of course, Timon was much praised. + </p> + <p> + A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect + till Timon wore it. “You mend the jewel by wearing it,” he said. Timon + gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, “O, + he's the very soul of bounty.” “Timon is infinitely dear to me,” said + another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; and + other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + </p> + <p> + But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, “I'm going to + knock out an honest Athenian's brains.” + </p> + <p> + “You will die for that,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall die for doing nothing,” said Apemantus. And now you know + what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + </p> + <p> + This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, + because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number of + acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not shun + them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, and is + inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + </p> + <p> + Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, + after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and + the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise man + has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and he did + not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and + furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected + him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + </p> + <p> + Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day + Timon was asked for a large sum of money. “Sell some land,” he said to his + steward. “You have no land,” was the reply. “Nonsense! I had a hundred, + thousand acres,” said Timon. “You could have spent the price of the world + if you had possessed it,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="picture" id="picture"></a> “Borrow some then,” said Timon; “try + Ventidius.” He thought of Ventidius because he had once got Ventidius out + of prison by paying a creditor of this young man. Ventidius was now rich. + Timon trusted in his gratitude. But not for all; so much did he owe! + Servants were despatched with requests for loans of money to several + friends: + </p> + <p> + One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus + said, “A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last night.” + Then, changing his tone, “How is that honorable, free-hearted, perfect + gentleman, your master, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Well in health, sir,” replied Flaminius. + </p> + <p> + “And what have you got there under your cloak?” asked Lucullus, jovially. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I beg + you to fill with money, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “La! la! la!” said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, “Ha! ha! ha!” + “Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. I've + warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you know this + is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you act like a good + boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three solidares for + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Back, wretched money,” cried Flaminius, “to him who worships you!” + </p> + <p> + Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was + Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “Hum,” he said to Timon's servant, “has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is + beholden to him.” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you asked Lucullus?” + </p> + <p> + “He refused.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor compliment to apply to me last of all,” said Sempronius, in + affected anger. “If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent + him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship makes a good villain,” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of a + lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a + banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in the + least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and said + to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + </p> + <p> + “I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here,” said + Lucullus; “but who could refuse Timon?” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="box" id="box"></a> “It was a real grief to me to be without ready + money when he asked for some,” said Sempronius. + </p> + <p> + “The same here,” chimed in a third lord. + </p> + <p> + Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies and + compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + </p> + <p> + In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. Mouths + watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + </p> + <p> + “Be seated, worthy friends,” said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the gods + of Greece. “Give each man enough,” he said, “for if you, who are our gods, + were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men love the + joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain twenty + villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. Uncover the + dishes, dogs, and lap!” + </p> + <p> + The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. They + thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, they + uncovered the dishes. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing in them but warm water. + </p> + <p> + “May you never see a better feast,” wished Timon “I wash off the + flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your + villainy.” With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, and + then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, he + went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + </p> + <p> + His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + </p> + <p> + Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a + handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, + having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. The + thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not soften + Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern the fact that + good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He determined to see + nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of Ventidius and the + meanness of Lucullus. + </p> + <p> + He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the earth + for food. + </p> + <p> + One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck + gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, + and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold vein + gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. “This yellow slave,” he said, “will + make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. It will + buy murder and bless the accursed.” + </p> + <p> + He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached + with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but + pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades + did not recognize him at first. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “A beast, as you are,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon would + none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when they found + he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his opinion of them, + but said, “Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you more?” + </p> + <p> + With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell,” said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and + then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could + have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + </p> + <p> + Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug + up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + </p> + <p> + Just then Apemantus appeared. “I am told that you imitate me,” said + Apemantus. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” said Timon, “because you haven't a dog which I can imitate.” + </p> + <p> + “You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself,” said + Apemantus. “That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as they + ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/timon4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="sullen" id="sullen"></a> “If I were like you,” said Timon, “I should + throw myself away.” + </p> + <p> + “You have done so,” sneered Apemantus. “Will the cold brook make you a + good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?” + </p> + <p> + “Off with you!” said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told + him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a + pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + </p> + <p> + Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he was + sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him with an + evil wish. + </p> + <p> + This was almost an “at home” day for Timon, for when Apemantus had + departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + </p> + <p> + “You want too much,” said Timon. “Here are water, roots and berries.” + </p> + <p> + “We are not birds and pigs,” said a robber. + </p> + <p> + “No, you are cannibals,” said Timon. “Take the gold, then, and may it + poison you! Henceforth rob one another.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full + pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that day + of visits was his good steward Flavius. “My dearest master!” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “Away! What are you?” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten me, sir?” asked Flavius, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “I have forgotten all men,” was the reply; “and if you'll allow that you + are a man, I have forgotten you.” + </p> + <p> + “I was your honest servant,” said Flavius. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me,” retorted Timon. + </p> + <p> + Flavius began to cry. + </p> + <p> + “What! shedding tears?” said Timon. “Come nearer, then. I will love you + because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh or + beg.” + </p> + <p> + They talked awhile; then Timon said, “Yon gold is mine. I will make you + rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. I + will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh + slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die + in jail before you pay his debt.” + </p> + <p> + Flavius simply said, “Let me stay to comfort you, my master.” + </p> + <p> + “If you dislike cursing, leave me,” replied Timon, and he turned his back + on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to + obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + </p> + <p> + The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty + nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon + therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom he + had patronized in his prosperity. + </p> + <p> + “Hail, worthy Timon!” said the poet. “We heard with astonishment how your + friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!” + </p> + <p> + “We have come,” put in the painter, “to offer our services.” + </p> + <p> + “You've heard that I have gold,” said Timon. + </p> + <p> + “There was a report,” said the painter, blushing; “but my friend and I did + not come for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Good honest men!” jeered Timon. “All the same, you shall have plenty of + gold if you will rid me of two villains.” + </p> + <p> + “Name them,” said his two visitors in one breath. “Both of you!” answered + Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, “Put that + into your palette and make money out of it.” Then he gave a whack to the + poet, and said, “Make a poem out of that and get paid for it. There's gold + for you.” + </p> + <p> + They hurriedly withdrew. + </p> + <p> + Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was + threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter noble + whose gold might help the foe. + </p> + <p> + “Forget your injuries,” said the first senator. “Athens offers you + dignities whereby you may honorably live.” + </p> + <p> + “Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, and + more than atone, for her forgetfulness,” said the second senator. + </p> + <p> + “Worthy senators,” replied Timon, in his grim way, “I am almost weeping; + you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a + fool.” + </p> + <p> + But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could + save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. “Be our captain,” they + said, “and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care,” said Timon; and + seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + </p> + <p> + The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown + before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, + who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They + looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield if + he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper than + arrows. + </p> + <p> + “These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged you, + Alcibiades,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “Enter,” said the second senator, “and slay every tenth man, if your + revenge needs human flesh.” + </p> + <p> + “Spare the cradle,” said the first senator. + </p> + <p> + “I ask only justice,” said Alcibiades. “If you admit my army, I will + inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them.” + </p> + <p> + At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, “My noble + general, Timon is dead.” He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, “He + is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone with + letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed them on + wax.” + </p> + <p> + Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + </p> + <p> + all living men did hate. + </p> + <p> + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + </p> + <p> + and stay not here your gait.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> “Dead, then, is noble Timon,” said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens + with an olive branch instead of a sword. + </p> + <p> + So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter than + Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a warning + lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="othello" id="othello">OTHELLO</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, + who hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead + of Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, + whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago had + a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he could + not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + </p> + <p> + Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called + him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been + vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great + traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. Brave + as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a terrible + selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as absolutely + as he possessed something that did not live and think. The story of + Othello is a story of jealousy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="adventures" id="adventures"></a> One night Iago told Roderigo that + Othello had carried off Desdemona without the knowledge of her father, + Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo to arouse Brabantio, and when that + senator appeared Iago told him of Desdemona's elopement in the most + unpleasant way. Though he was Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and + a Barbary horse. + </p> + <p> + Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to + fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used was + his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth escapes. + Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained how she + could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, “I saw + Othello's visage in his mind.” + </p> + <p> + As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there + was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to + go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to + go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him + at Cyprus. + </p> + <p> + Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. “Oh, + my sweet,” he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and + Roderigo before him, “I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with + my own happiness.” + </p> + <p> + News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he + proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + </p> + <p> + Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago + decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, as + Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought wine + into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and so + Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="othello2" id="othello2"></a> When Cassio was inclined to be + quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say something unpleasant to him. Cassio + cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the presence of Montano, the ex-governor. + Montano civilly interceded for Roderigo, but received so rude an answer + from Cassio that he said, “Come, come, you're drunk!” Cassio then wounded + him, and Iago sent Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + </p> + <p> + The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, “Cassio, I + love thee, but never more be officer of mine.” + </p> + <p> + On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about + his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. “O + God,” exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, “that men should put an enemy + in their mouths to steal away their brains!” + </p> + <p> + Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio was + pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to Desdemona in + the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and said, “Be merry, + Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your cause.” + </p> + <p> + Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired + hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + Iago said, “I don't like that.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something + unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. “Was not that Cassio + who went from my wife?” asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was + Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, “I cannot think it was Cassio who + stole away in that guilty manner.” + </p> + <p> + Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio + retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part + when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. + Othello was melted, and said, “I will deny thee nothing,” but Desdemona + told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + </p> + <p> + Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that + Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now + very clear. + </p> + <p> + “Is he not honest?” demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective + inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” insisted Othello. + </p> + <p> + To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. + He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, “Who + steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name + ruins me.” + </p> + <p> + At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident of + his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no other + than Iago who called jealousy “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the + meat it feeds on.” + </p> + <p> + Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the remark + that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. “If she + deceived him, why not you?” was his meaning. + </p> + <p> + Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. She + saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his forehead. + Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello had given her. A + prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this handkerchief from the + silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a liquid prepared from the hearts of + maidens, and embroidered it with strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of + it simply as a cool, soft thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell + upon it that would work destruction for her who lost it. “Let me tie it + round your head,” she said to Othello; “you will be well in an hour.” But + Othello pettishly said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he + then went indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which + Iago had often asked her to steal. + </p> + <p> + She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he + snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="wine" id="wine"></a> In the garden he was joined by Othello, who + seemed hungry for the worst lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello + that he had seen Cassio wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because + it was spotted with strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had + given his wife. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness + that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. “I + accept your love,” said Othello. “Within three days let me hear that + Cassio is dead.” + </p> + <p> + Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. + Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry + pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to + copy it for him. + </p> + <p> + Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona + about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation between + Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's sweetheart, + and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was Desdemona. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, lieutenant?” asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + </p> + <p> + “The worse for being called what I am not,” replied Cassio, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored,” said Iago, + adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, “If Bianca could set the + matter right, how quickly it would mend!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas! poor rogue,” said Cassio, “I really think she loves me,” and like + the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's + fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he + prattled of Desdemona, and thought, “I see your nose, Cassio, but not the + dog I shall throw it to.” + </p> + <p> + Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea + that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the + embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the + handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + </p> + <p> + Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech + inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise his + wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the needle, her + voice that could “sing the savageness out of a bear,” her wit, her + sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised her Iago said + something that made him remember his anger and utter it foully, and yet he + must needs praise her, and say, “The pity of it, Iago! O Iago, the pity of + it, Iago!” + </p> + <p> + There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there + had been he might have wavered then. + </p> + <p> + “Strangle her,” he said; and “Good, good!” said his miserable dupe. + </p> + <p> + The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a relative + of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter for Othello from + the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from Cyprus, and gave the + governorship to Cassio. + </p> + <p> + Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit + of Cassio. + </p> + <p> + “Fire and brimstone!” shouted Othello. + </p> + <p> + “It may be the letter agitates him,” explained Lodovico to Desdemona, and + he told her what it contained. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that Othello's + unkindness had wrung out of her. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see you lose your temper,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sweet Othello?” she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her + face. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="handkerchief" id="handkerchief"></a> Now was the time for Desdemona + to have saved her life by separation, but she knew not her peril--only + that her love was wounded to the core. “I have not deserved this,” she + said, and the tears rolled slowly down her face. + </p> + <p> + Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. “My lord,” he said, “this would not be + believed in Venice. Make her amends;” but, like a madman talking in his + nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and roared, + “Out of my sight!” + </p> + <p> + “I will not stay to offend you,” said his wife, but she lingered even in + going, and only when he shouted “Avaunt!” did she leave her husband and + his guests. + </p> + <p> + Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, “You are welcome, sir, to + Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!” Without waiting for a reply he left the + company. + </p> + <p> + Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family quarrels, + and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico asked Iago + for an explanation. + </p> + <p> + True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse + than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from + the discomfort of answering any more questions. + </p> + <p> + He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune + with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona + without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + </p> + <p> + Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's house, + Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, and + Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo as his + assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient friend, + called him “Villain!” and stabbed him, but not to death. + </p> + <p> + At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she must + leave her; her husband wished it. “Dismiss me!” exclaimed Emilia. “It was + his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now.” + </p> + <p> + She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to her--a + song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though it + weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + </p> + <p> + She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. “Have you prayed + to-night?” he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask + God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. “I would not + kill thy soul,” he said. + </p> + <p> + He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to + confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything + that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/othello5.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="weeping" id="weeping"></a> Then Desdemona wept, but with violent + words, in spite of all her pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and + mortally hurt her. + </p> + <p> + Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, and + Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, “A guiltless + death I die.” + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” cried Emilia; and the voice said, “Nobody--I myself. + Farewell!” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas I that killed her,” said Othello. + </p> + <p> + He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came running + in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, Emilia told + the truth. + </p> + <p> + And Othello knew. “Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?” he + exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + </p> + <p> + But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a + relief from torture. + </p> + <p> + They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he + escaped them on his sword. “A word or two before you go,” he said to the + Venetians in the chamber. “Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. Say + I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and say + that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I took him + by the throat and smote him thus.” + </p> + <p> + With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his + lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <a name="katherinecolor" id="katherinecolor"></a> <img + src="images/shrew1.gif" width="250" height="325" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> Petruchio and Katherine + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="schrew" id="schrew">THE TAMING OF THE SHREW</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair + daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, and + unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her sister, + Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more than one + suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the elder daughter + must marry first. + </p> + <p> + So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to + marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to + their suit for Bianca. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought of, + and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the + disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just the + sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he himself + would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + </p> + <p> + Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his gentle + daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she was anything + but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, complaining that the + naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, because he told her she + was not playing correctly. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Petruchio, “I love her better than ever, and long to + have some chat with her.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="master" id="master"></a> When Katharine came, he said, “Good-morrow, + Kate--for that, I hear, is your name.” + </p> + <p> + “You've only heard half,” said Katharine, rudely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Petruchio, “they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and + sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every + town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Your wife!” cried Kate. “Never!” She said some extremely disagreeable + things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + </p> + <p> + “If you do that again, I'll cuff you,” he said quietly; and still + protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + </p> + <p> + When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + </p> + <p> + “How speed you with my daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I speed but well,” replied Petruchio--“how, but well?” + </p> + <p> + “How now, daughter Katharine?” the father went on. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="ears" id="ears"></a> “I don't think,” said Katharine, angrily, “you + are acting a father's part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Petruchio, “you and all the world would talk amiss of her. You + should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will go + off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! we + will be married on Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent + temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in + love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was + not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her + rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she did + indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + </p> + <p> + To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the + wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was + ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby + way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + </p> + <p> + And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, + Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or drink--saying + that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with her. + </p> + <p> + And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in + so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. + He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by + rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the + way. + </p> + <p> + She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was + determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had + made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never + forget. + </p> + <p> + So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served he + found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and ill-served, + and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but the best. At + last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless to bed. Then + her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how anxious he was + that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, throwing the pillows + and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not go to bed at all, and + still kept growling and scolding at the servants so that Kate might see + how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + </p> + <p> + The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught + away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for + want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + </p> + <p> + “I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what.” + </p> + <p> + “What say you to a neat's foot?” said the servant. + </p> + <p> + Katharine said “Yes,” eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's + secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would + she like tripe? + </p> + <p> + “Bring it me,” said Katharine. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people,” said the servant. + “What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?” + </p> + <p> + “I love it,” said Kate. + </p> + <p> + “But mustard is too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go,” cried Katharine, who was + getting hungrier and hungrier. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the servant, “you must have the mustard, or you get no beef + from me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” cried Katharine, losing patience, “let it be both, or one, or + anything thou wilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then,” said the servant, “the mustard without the beef!” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + </p> + <p> + Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun to + satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new + clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine + was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made for + her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and gown on + the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish things. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/shrew4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="supper" id="supper"></a> “I will have them,” cried Katharine. “All + gentlewomen wear such caps as these--” + </p> + <p> + “When you are gentle you shall have one too,” he answered, “and not till + then.” When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but privately + asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the sun + breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest habit. + It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by dinner-time.” + </p> + <p> + “It's nearly two,” said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to see + that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and her + sister; “it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get there.” + </p> + <p> + “It shall be seven,” said Petruchio, obstinately, “before I start. Why, + whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't go + to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is.” + </p> + <p> + At last they started for her father's house. + </p> + <p> + “Look at the moon,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “It's the sun,” said Katharine, and indeed it was. + </p> + <p> + “I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or + whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's.” + </p> + <p> + Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. “What you will have it named,” + she said, “it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine.” And so it was, for + from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and never + again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + </p> + <p> + So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found + all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly + married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat + down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing + Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many + disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and + froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with such + spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the new + bride. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh + against Petruchio, saying “Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear you + have got the veriest shrew of all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are wrong,” said Petruchio, “let me prove it to you. Each of us shall + send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the one whose + wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree on.” + </p> + <p> + The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the most + dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + </p> + <p> + They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty crowns,” said Petruchio, “I'll venture so much on my hawk or + hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundred then,” cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + </p> + <p> + “Content,” cried the others. + </p> + <p> + Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to + him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the + servant coming back, said-- + </p> + <p> + “Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come.”' + </p> + <p> + “There's an answer for you,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a worse.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, better,” Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh--if you <i>entreat</i> her,” said Petruchio. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” answered Hortensio, sharply, “do what you can, yours will + not be entreated.” + </p> + <p> + But now the servant came in, and said-- + </p> + <p> + “She says you are playing some jest, she will not come.” + </p> + <p> + “Better and better,” cried Petruchio; “now go to your mistress and say I + <i>command</i> her to come to me.” + </p> + <p> + They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and + that she would not come. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + </p> + <p> + “Here comes Katharine!” And sure enough--there she was. + </p> + <p> + “What do you wish, sir?” she asked her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Talking by the parlor fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Fetch them here.” + </p> + <p> + When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + </p> + <p> + “Here is a wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder what it means,” said Hortensio. + </p> + <p> + “It means peace,” said Petruchio, “and love, and quiet life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Baptista, “you have won the wager, and I will add another + twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another + daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else.” + </p> + <p> + So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife and + true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her well, + and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they lived + happy ever afterwards. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="measure" id="measure">MEASURE FOR MEASURE</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were + governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was + excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + </p> + <p> + The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna was + enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief secretary + showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, that wrongdoers + must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He knew that, if he were + suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause people to call him a + tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council that he must go to + Poland on important business of state. “I have chosen Angelo to rule in my + absence,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean man. + He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have nothing + to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana lived + forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, and + loving him still. + </p> + <p> + Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called Thomas + and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of giving + religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to stay at + home and see how Angelo governed. + </p> + <p> + Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young man + named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would only be + punished by severe reproof. + </p> + <p> + Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of freedom + for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead with + Angelo. + </p> + <p> + Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, + and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + </p> + <p> + An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. “Let us cut a little, but not + kill,” he said. “This gentleman had a most noble father.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo was unmoved. “If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy + than is in the law.” + </p> + <p> + Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine + the next morning. + </p> + <p> + After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the + condemned man desired to see him. + </p> + <p> + “Admit her,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, “I am a woeful suitor to + your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased the + beauty of her face. “I have a brother who is condemned to die,” she + continued. “Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Every fault,” said Angelo, “is condemned before it is committed. A fault + cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault went + free.” + </p> + <p> + She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, “You are + too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin.” + </p> + <p> + So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, “I will not pardon + him,” she was not discouraged, and when he said, “He's sentenced; 'tis too + late,” she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with reasons, + and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="dress" id="dress"></a> She told him that nothing becomes power like + mercy. She told him that humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, + that it was good to have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a + giant. She told him that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. + She bade him look for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to + refrain from making it an argument against her brother's life. + </p> + <p> + Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's + beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for the + love of man. + </p> + <p> + He appeared to relent, for he said, “Come to me to-morrow before noon.” + </p> + <p> + She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a few + hours.' + </p> + <p> + In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his + judicial duty. + </p> + <p> + When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, “Your brother cannot + live.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, “Even so. Heaven + keep your Honor.” + </p> + <p> + But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight + in comparison with the loss of her. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your love,” he said, “and Claudio shall be freed.” + </p> + <p> + “Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay + upon the block,” said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the just + man he pretended to be. + </p> + <p> + So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. At + first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. But when + he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by marrying + Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and he + exclaimed, “Sweet sister, let me live.” + </p> + <p> + “O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to request + some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose + love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let + Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, + in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would + marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it + might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly + like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They + were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="angelo" id="angelo"></a> In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, + seeing a man dressed like a friar, called out, “What news of the Duke, + friar?” “I have none,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one about + the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and called the + Duke “a shallow, ignorant fool,” though he pretended to love him. “The + Duke shall know you better if I live to report you,” said the Duke, + grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he thought + of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a friar, + replied, “The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to see + another merry to being merry himself.” + </p> + <p> + The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + </p> + <p> + Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the two + girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They went into + a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and while they + talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the window and saw + the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which betrayed Mariana's + indifference to her country dwelling. Some women would have beautified + their garden: not she. She was for the town; she neglected the joys of the + country. He was sure that Angelo would not make her unhappier. + </p> + <p> + “We are agreed, father,” said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + </p> + <p> + So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, + and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone which + flashed in the light with secret colors. + </p> + <p> + Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared to + learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, + however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His + amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, “Whatsoever + you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the + clock. Let me have his head sent me by five.” + </p> + <p> + But the Duke said to the Provost, “You must show the Deputy another head,” + and he held out a letter and a signet. “Here,” he said, “are the hand and + seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows it not. + Give Angelo another head.” + </p> + <p> + The Provost thought, “This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's + signet and I know his hand.” + </p> + <p> + He said at length, “A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the age + of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head.” + </p> + <p> + The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its + resemblance to Claudio's. + </p> + <p> + The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city gates + from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and Escalus duly + presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their conduct of + affairs in the Duke's absence. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, + passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried + for justice. + </p> + <p> + When her story was told, the Duke cried, “To prison with her for a + slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Friar Lodowick,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows him?” inquired the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I do, my lord,” replied Lucio. “I beat him because he spake against your + Grace.” + </p> + <p> + A friar called Peter here said, “Friar Lodowick is a holy man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took off + her veil, and said to Angelo, “This is the face you once swore was worth + looking on.” + </p> + <p> + Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, “This is the hand + which wears the ring you thought to give another.” + </p> + <p> + “I know the woman,” said Angelo. “Once there was talk of marriage between + us, but I found her frivolous.” + </p> + <p> + Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. + Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar + Lodowick. + </p> + <p> + “He shall appear,” promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the missing + witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and + accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as + abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, + that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled + for his impudence. + </p> + <p> + “To prison with him!” shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, + the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said to Angelo, “if you have any impudence that can yet serve + you, work it for all it's worth.” + </p> + <p> + “Immediate sentence and death is all I beg,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Were you affianced to Mariana?” asked the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” said Angelo. + </p> + <p> + “Then marry her instantly,” said his master. “Marry them,” he said to + Friar Peter, “and return with them here.” + </p> + <p> + “Come hither, Isabel,” said the Duke, in tender tones. “Your friar is now + your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;” but well + the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon me,” she cried, “that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “You are pardoned,” he said, gaily. + </p> + <p> + At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. “And now, Angelo,” said the + Duke, gravely, “we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid his + head!” + </p> + <p> + “O my most gracious lord,” cried Mariana, “mock me not!” + </p> + <p> + “You shall buy a better husband,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/measure3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="prince" id="prince"></a> “O my dear lord,” said she, “I crave no + better man.” + </p> + <p> + Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned + inflexibility. + </p> + <p> + “Provost,” he said, “how came it that Claudio as executed at an unusual + hour?” + </p> + <p> + Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, “I + had a private message.” + </p> + <p> + “You are discharged from your office,” said the Duke. The Provost then + departed. Angelo said, “I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer + death to mercy.” Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost + re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, “I saved this + man; he is like Claudio.” The Duke was amused, and said to Isabella, “I + pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my brother, too, if + you, dear Isabel, will be mine.” + </p> + <p> + She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the + Provost. + </p> + <p> + Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="verona" id="verona">TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. + Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived at + Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name because + it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a Valentine to + be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because it was that of + a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him to be a lover at + one time and a traitor at another. + </p> + <p> + One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. “I'm not in + love like you,” said he, “and therefore I don't want to stay at home.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, who + was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry to + part from Valentine, and he said, “If ever you are in danger tell me, and + I will pray for you.” Valentine then went to Milan with a servant called + Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's daughter, + Silvia. + </p> + <p> + When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she + loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in the + presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, for + when she saw the pieces she said to herself, “All she wants is to be + annoyed by another letter.” Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone + than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her + heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So by + tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved him. + Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, “Be patient, and you + shall marry me.” + </p> + <p> + Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's + letter and talking to himself. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked his father, Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “A letter from Valentine,” fibbed Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Let me read it,” said Antonio. + </p> + <p> + “There is no news,” said deceitful Proteus; “he only says that he is very + happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I were + with him.” + </p> + <p> + This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go to + Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. “You must go + to-morrow,” he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. “Give me time to get my + outfit ready.” He was met with the promise, “What you need shall be sent + after you.” + </p> + <p> + It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two + days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, “Keep this for my sake,” and he + gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till + death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him + under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that she + wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well of, + but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike + writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. “Take + it back,” she said; “you did it unwillingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” he said, “it was difficult to write such a letter for you.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="silvia" id="silvia"></a> “Take it back,” she commanded; “you did not + write tenderly enough.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; but + his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed + Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. “The + joke,” he said, “is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple.” He meant + that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: “If + master will write her love-letters, he must answer them.” + </p> + <p> + On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and + afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love for + Julia was prospering. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said Proteus, “you used to get wearied when I spoke of her.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” confessed Valentine, “but it's different now. I can eat and drink + all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup.” + </p> + <p> + “You idolize Silvia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “She is divine,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="theletter" id="theletter"></a> “Come, come!” remonstrated Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if she's not divine,” said Valentine, “she is the queen of all + women on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Except Julia,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + “Dear boy,” said Valentine, “Julia is not excepted; but I will grant that + she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train.” + </p> + <p> + “Your bragging astounds me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired Julia + was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without delay, and + said to himself what he had never said before--“I to myself am dearer than + my friend.” + </p> + <p> + It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by the + power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the evil + moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did not + change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to him + the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. “In + the pocket of this cloak,” said Valentine, “I have a silken rope ladder, + with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room.” + </p> + <p> + Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. The + Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom she did + not care a straw. + </p> + <p> + Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make Silvia + fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring Sir Thurio's + tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, “Duty before + friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, but your Grace + should know that he intends to-night to elope with your Grace's daughter.” + He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver of this information, + and the Duke assured him that his name would not be divulged. + </p> + <p> + Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing a + large cloak with a bulging pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” said the Duke, “my desire to marry my daughter to Sir Thurio?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied Valentine. “He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man + so honored in your Grace's thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless she dislikes him,” said the Duke. “She is a peevish, proud, + disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I intend, + therefore, to marry again.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine bowed. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love,” continued the + Duke, “and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to win + the lady of my choice.” + </p> + <p> + “Jewels have been known to plead rather well,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I have tried them,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some + more.” + </p> + <p> + “The chief difficulty,” pursued the Duke, “is this. The lady is promised + to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in + fact, locked up.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your Grace should propose an elopement,” said Valentine. “Try a rope + ladder.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="serenade" id="serenade"></a> “But how should I carry it?” asked the + Duke. + </p> + <p> + “A rope ladder is light,” said Valentine; “You can carry it in a cloak.” + </p> + <p> + “Like yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend his + cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the pocket a + sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and read these + words: “Silvia, you shall be free to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” he said, “and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but + not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are in + Milan by this time to-morrow, you die.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. “Unless I look on Silvia in the + day,” he said, “there is no day for me to look upon.” + </p> + <p> + Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of the + first order. “Hope is a lover's staff,” said Valentine's betrayer; “walk + hence with that.” + </p> + <p> + After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest near + Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, the + poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They obeyed, + and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that they + offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + </p> + <p> + “I accept,” said Valentine, “provided you release my servant, and are not + violent to women or the poor.” + </p> + <p> + The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + </p> + <p> + We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since Proteus + had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which she could + see him. “Better wait for him to return,” said Lucetta, and she talked so + sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta would bear the + blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia therefore said that she + intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + </p> + <p> + “You must cut off your hair then,” said Lucetta, who thought that at this + announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + </p> + <p> + “I shall knot it up,” was the disappointing rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia had + made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her + toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to + see. + </p> + <p> + Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to + hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + </p> + <p> + “They are serenading the Lady Silvia,” said a man to her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It was + the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Who is Silvia? what is she, + </p> + <p> + That all our swains commend her? + </p> + <p> + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + </p> + <p> + The heaven such grace did lend her + </p> + <p> + That she might admired be.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow + thundered into her mind-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “Then to Silvia let us sing; + </p> + <p> + She excels each mortal thing.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so + beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only + false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She even + went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + </p> + <p> + One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, + “Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the + picture of her she promised me.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/verona4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="outlaws" id="outlaws"></a> Silvia had promised the picture, but she + disliked Proteus. She was obliged to talk to him because he was high in + the favor of her father, who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir + Thurio. Silvia had learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a + sweetheart in Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that + he was disloyal in friendship as well as love. + </p> + <p> + Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, “I will not wrong the + woman who gave it him by wearing it.” + </p> + <p> + “She thanks you,” said Julia. + </p> + <p> + “You know her, then?” said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of herself + that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + </p> + <p> + Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it the + worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made up her + mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + </p> + <p> + Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + </p> + <p> + The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled Valentine, + and he was not wrong. + </p> + <p> + Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some + servants. + </p> + <p> + The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia (in + her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had been + taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. Proteus + rescued her, and then said, “I have saved you from death; give me one kind + look.” + </p> + <p> + “O misery, to be helped by you!” cried Silvia. “I would rather be a lion's + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia + that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + </p> + <p> + “O heaven!” cried Silvia. + </p> + <p> + At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came + crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia + feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But he + struck no blow, he only said, “Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust you + more.” + </p> + <p> + Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, “Forgive + me! I grieve! I suffer!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are my friend once more,” said the generous Valentine. “If + Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that I + will stand aside and bless you both.” + </p> + <p> + These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived + her, and said, “What was the matter, boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I remembered,” fibbed Julia, “that I was charged to give a ring to the + Lady Silvia, and that I did not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, give it to me,” said Proteus. + </p> + <p> + She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia + before he left Verona. + </p> + <p> + Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + </p> + <p> + “I changed my shape when you changed your mind,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “But I love you again,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Forbear!” cried Valentine, sternly. “The Duke is sacred.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Thurio exclaimed, “There's Silvia; she's mine!” + </p> + <p> + “Touch her, and you die!” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “I should be a fool to risk anything for her,” said Sir Thurio. + </p> + <p> + “Then you are base,” said the Duke. “Valentine, you are a brave man. Your + banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve her.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank your Grace,” said Valentine, deeply moved, “and yet must ask you + one more boon.” + </p> + <p> + “I grant it,” said the Duke. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better + than their calling.” + </p> + <p> + “I pardon them and you,” said the Duke. “Their work henceforth shall be + for wages.” + </p> + <p> + “What think you of this page, your Grace?” asked Valentine, indicating + Julia. + </p> + <p> + The Duke glanced at her, and said, “I think the boy has grace in him.” + </p> + <p> + “More grace than boy, say I,” laughed Valentine, and the only punishment + which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and friendship + was the recital in his presence of the adventures of Julia-Sebastian of + Verona. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + <a name="well" id="well">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL</a> + </h2> + <p> + <br /> In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of + Rousillon was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her + husband, and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, + hundreds of miles away. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, and + eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make him, and + would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. But a + pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + </p> + <p> + Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service of + the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her + father's prescriptions. + </p> + <p> + When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the Countess, + who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her own child. Tears + then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the Countess made + Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. The Countess + guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that Bertram was to her + as the sun is to the day. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well1.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="bertram" id="bertram"></a> She hoped, however, to win this sun by + earning the gratitude of the King of France, who suffered from a lingering + illness, which made him lame. The great doctors attached to the Court + despaired of curing him, but Helena had confidence in a prescription which + her father had used with success. + </p> + <p> + Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was + allowed to see the King. + </p> + <p> + He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. “It would not + become me,” he said, “to apply to a simple maiden for the relief which all + the learned doctors cannot give me.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes,” said Helena, and she declared + that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + </p> + <p> + “And if you succeed?” questioned the King. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I + choose!” + </p> + <p> + So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering king. + Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the royal + cripple could skip. + </p> + <p> + He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the throne + room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been dazzled, and + seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome young noblemen + before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found Bertram. Then she + went up to him, and said, “I dare not say I take you, but I am yours!” + Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, “This is the Man!” + </p> + <p> + “Bertram,” said the King, “take her; she's your wife!” + </p> + <p> + “My wife, my liege?” said Bertram. “I beg your Majesty to permit me to + choose a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?” asked the + monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your Majesty,” replied Bertram; “but why should I marry a girl who + owes her breeding to my father's charity?” + </p> + <p> + “You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title,” said + the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and + he added, “Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not + distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a + bowl.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot love her,” asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, “Urge him + not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's sake.” + </p> + <p> + “My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience,” said the King. + “Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you are + so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?” + </p> + <p> + Bertram bowed low and said, “Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your + interest in her. I submit.” + </p> + <p> + “Take her by the hand,” said the King, “and tell her she is yours.” + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well2.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="king" id="king"></a> Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was + married to Helena. + </p> + <p> + Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped to + sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that now he + had a “kicky-wicky” his business was not to fight but to stay at home. + “Kicky-wicky” was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made Bertram + feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the war in + Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + </p> + <p> + Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, + giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding + her a cold good-bye. + </p> + <p> + She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, “When you can get + the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' I + write 'never.'” + </p> + <p> + Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said + farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from his + own finger, saying, “If you send this to me, I shall know you are in + trouble, and help you.” + </p> + <p> + She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made him + wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and handed + her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. “I have run + away,” it said. “If the world be broad enough, I will be always far away + from her.” + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up,” said the noble widow to the deserted wife. “I wash his name + out of my blood, and you alone are my child.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay + the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called “a very tainted + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, and, + leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for Florence. + </p> + <p> + On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' + House of Rest, but the woman begged “the holy pilgrim” to lodge with her. + </p> + <p> + Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter + named Diana. + </p> + <p> + When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, “A countryman of + yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence.” But after a + time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of Helena's + husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the fact that + he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife was not worth + caring for. + </p> + <p> + The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her + that she was the Countess Rousillon. + </p> + <p> + “He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair,” said the widow. + </p> + <p> + Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the + same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, “Take this purse of + gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will + help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her hair + to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his finger. + It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, yet he + will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your daughter + insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark room, and + agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word.” + </p> + <p> + The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She + said at last, “I consent, if Diana is willing.” + </p> + <p> + Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off a lock + of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to Bertram that + he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her into the dark + room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, and felt a sweet + face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he left the room + satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on his finger was a + ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + </p> + <p> + The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught Bertram + that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his + “kicky-wicky” was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such a + boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French officers + played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost his drum, + and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in the attempt. + His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the story of a + heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well3.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="letter" id="letter"></a> “Portotartarossa,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “What horrible lingo is this?” thought Parolles, who had been blindfolded. + </p> + <p> + “He's calling for the tortures,” said a French man, affecting to act as + interpreter. “What will you say without 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “As much,” replied Parolles, “as I could possibly say if you pinched me + like a pasty.” He was as good as his word. He told them how many there + were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with + spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + </p> + <p> + Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told Diana + that he was a fool. + </p> + <p> + “This is your devoted friend,” said a French lord. + </p> + <p> + “He is a cat to me now,” said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + </p> + <p> + Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and was + not addicted to boasting. + </p> + <p> + We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her death, + which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, a lord + who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + </p> + <p> + The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed for + Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it accomplished. + </p> + <p> + “His great offense is dead,” he said. “Let Bertram approach me.” + </p> + <p> + Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said + that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he + would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + </p> + <p> + “Love that is late offends the Great Sender,” said the King. “Forget sweet + Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, “It's + Helena's!” + </p> + <p> + “It's not!” said Bertram. + </p> + <p> + Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, “This is the ring I + gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So you + had the cunning to get from her what could help her most.” + </p> + <p> + Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother said + it was. + </p> + <p> + “You lie!” exclaimed the King. “Seize him, guards!” but even while they + were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana + had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, + craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition + signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to + marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + </p> + <p> + <img src="images/well4.gif" alt="Please keep photo with html" /> <a + name="widow" id="widow"></a> “I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than + take Bertram now,” said Lafeu. + </p> + <p> + “Admit the petitioner,” said the King. + </p> + <p> + Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied that + Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was spent + in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it was to whom + he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now missing from his + finger? + </p> + <p> + Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning + generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + </p> + <p> + “Do I see reality?” asked the King. + </p> + <p> + “O pardon! pardon!” cried Bertram. + </p> + <p> + She held up his ancestral ring. “Now that I have this,” said she, “will + you love me, Bertram?” + </p> + <p> + “To the end of my life,” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “My eyes smell onions,” said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in + them. + </p> + <p> + The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy + young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had wished + to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to himself. His + pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a husband of some + sort after all. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + </h2> + <p> + <a name="quotations" id="quotations"></a> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ACTION. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + </p> + <p> + More learned than their ears. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVERSITY. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Sweet are the uses of adversity, + </p> + <p> + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + </p> + <p> + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + </p> + <p> + And follows but for form, + </p> + <p> + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + </p> + <p> + And leave thee in the storm. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + </p> + <p> + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + </p> + <p> + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + </p> + <p> + These flies are couched. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + </p> + <p> + <br /> Give thy thoughts no tongue, + </p> + <p> + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + </p> + <p> + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + </p> + <p> + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + </p> + <p> + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + </p> + <p> + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + </p> + <p> + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + </p> + <p> + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + </p> + <p> + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + </p> + <p> + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + </p> + <p> + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + </p> + <p> + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + </p> + <p> + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + </p> + <p> + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + </p> + <p> + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + </p> + <p> + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + </p> + <p> + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + </p> + <p> + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + </p> + <p> + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + </p> + <p> + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + </p> + <p> + And it must follow, as the night the day, + </p> + <p> + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AGE. + </p> + <p> + My May of life Is + </p> + <p> + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + </p> + <p> + And that which should accompany old age, + </p> + <p> + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + </p> + <p> + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + </p> + <p> + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + </p> + <p> + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AMBITION. + </p> + <p> + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of the ambitious is + merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a + quality, that it is but a shadow's shadow. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II 2. + </h4> + <p> + I charge thee fling away ambition; + </p> + <p> + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + </p> + <p> + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + </p> + <p> + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + </p> + <p> + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + </p> + <p> + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + </p> + <p> + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + </p> + <p> + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + </p> + <p> + Thy God's, and truth's. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ANGER. + </p> + <p> + Anger is like + </p> + <p> + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + </p> + <p> + Self-mettle tires him. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + ARROGANCE. + </p> + <p> + There are a sort of men, whose visages + </p> + <p> + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + </p> + <p> + And do a willful stillness entertain, + </p> + <p> + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + </p> + <p> + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + </p> + <p> + As who should say, “i am Sir Oracle, + </p> + <p> + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!” + </p> + <p> + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + </p> + <p> + That therefore are reputed wise + </p> + <p> + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + </p> + <p> + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + </p> + <p> + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + AUTHORITY. + </p> + <p> + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + </p> + <p> + And the creature run from the cur? + </p> + <p> + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + </p> + <p> + a dog's obeyed in office. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + Could great men thunder + </p> + <p> + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + </p> + <p> + For every pelting, petty officer + </p> + <p> + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + </p> + <p> + Merciful heaven! + </p> + <p> + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + </p> + <p> + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + </p> + <p> + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + </p> + <p> + Drest in a little brief authority -- + </p> + <p> + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + </p> + <p> + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + </p> + <p> + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + </p> + <p> + As make the angels weep. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BEAUTY. + </p> + <p> + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + </p> + <p> + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + </p> + <p> + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + </p> + <p> + of it ever fair. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + </p> + <p> + It so falls out + </p> + <p> + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + </p> + <p> + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + </p> + <p> + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + </p> + <p> + The virtue, that possession would not show us + </p> + <p> + Whiles it was ours. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + BRAGGARTS. + </p> + <p> + It will come to pass, + </p> + <p> + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + </p> + <p> + are they not monsters? + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CALUMNY. + </p> + <p> + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + </p> + <p> + thou shalt not escape calumny. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + No might nor greatness in mortality + </p> + <p> + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + </p> + <p> + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + </p> + <p> + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CEREMONY. + </p> + <p> + Ceremony + </p> + <p> + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + </p> + <p> + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + </p> + <p> + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + </p> + <p> + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMFORT. + </p> + <p> + Men + </p> + <p> + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + </p> + <p> + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + </p> + <p> + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + </p> + <p> + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + </p> + <p> + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + </p> + <p> + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + </p> + <p> + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + </p> + <p> + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + </p> + <p> + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + </p> + <p> + To be so moral, when he shall endure + </p> + <p> + The like himself. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- II. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COMPARISON. + </p> + <p> + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + </p> + <p> + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + </p> + <p> + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + </p> + <p> + Until a king be by; and then his state + </p> + <p> + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + </p> + <p> + Into the main of waters. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONSCIENCE. + </p> + <p> + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + </p> + <p> + And thus the native hue of resolution + </p> + <p> + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + </p> + <p> + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + </p> + <p> + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + </p> + <p> + And lose the name of action. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENT. + </p> + <p> + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + </p> + <p> + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + </p> + <p> + Nor to be seen; my crown is called “content;” + </p> + <p> + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTION. + </p> + <p> + How, in one house, + </p> + <p> + Should many people, under two commands, + </p> + <p> + Hold amity? + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When two authorities are set up, + </p> + <p> + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + </p> + <p> + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + </p> + <p> + The one by the other. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CONTENTMENT. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + </p> + <p> + And range with humble livers in content, + </p> + <p> + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + </p> + <p> + And wear a golden sorrow. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + COWARDS. + </p> + <p> + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + </p> + <p> + The valiant never taste of death but once. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + CUSTOM. + </p> + <p> + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + </p> + <p> + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + </p> + <p> + That to the use of actions fair and good + </p> + <p> + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + </p> + <p> + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + </p> + <p> + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + </p> + <p> + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + </p> + <p> + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + </p> + <p> + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + </p> + <p> + With wondrous potency. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + A custom + </p> + <p> + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEATH. + </p> + <p> + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + </p> + <p> + For that's the end of human misery. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + </p> + <p> + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + </p> + <p> + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + </p> + <p> + Will come, when it will come. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The dread of something after death, + </p> + <p> + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + </p> + <p> + Than fly to others we know not of. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + </p> + <p> + Will seize the doctor too. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DECEPTION. + </p> + <p> + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + </p> + <p> + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + </p> + <p> + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + </p> + <p> + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + </p> + <p> + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DEEDS. + </p> + <p> + Foul deeds will rise, + </p> + <p> + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + </p> + <p> + Makes deeds ill done! + </p> + <h4> + King John -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELAY. + </p> + <p> + That we would do, + </p> + <p> + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + </p> + <p> + And hath abatements and delays as many, + </p> + <p> + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + </p> + <p> + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + </p> + <p> + That hurts by easing. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DELUSION. + </p> + <p> + For love of grace, + </p> + <p> + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + </p> + <p> + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + </p> + <p> + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + </p> + <p> + Infects unseen. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DISCRETION. + </p> + <p> + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + </p> + <p> + Not to outsport discretion. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DOUBTS AND FEARS. + </p> + <p> + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + </p> + <p> + To saucy doubts and fears. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DRUNKENNESS. + </p> + <p> + Boundless intemperance. + </p> + <p> + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + </p> + <p> + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + </p> + <p> + And fall of many kings. + </p> + <h4> + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + </p> + <p> + Love all, trust a few, + </p> + <p> + Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy + </p> + <p> + Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend + </p> + <p> + Under thy own life's key; be checked for silence, + </p> + <p> + But never taxed for speech. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EQUIVOCATION. + </p> + <p> + But yet + </p> + <p> + I do not like but yet, it does allay + </p> + <p> + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + </p> + <p> + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + </p> + <p> + Some monstrous malefactor. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + EXCESS. + </p> + <p> + A surfeit of the sweetest things + </p> + <p> + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + </p> + <p> + and the ingredient is a devil. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FALSEHOOD. + </p> + <p> + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + </p> + <p> + Three things that women hold in hate. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEAR. + </p> + <p> + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + </p> + <p> + Where it should guard. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + </p> + <p> + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + </p> + <p> + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FEASTS. + </p> + <p> + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + </p> + <h4> + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + </p> + <p> + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + </p> + <p> + Than the sea-monster. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + </p> + <p> + To have a thankless child + </p> + <h4> + Idem -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORETHOUGHT. + </p> + <p> + Determine on some course, + </p> + <p> + More than a wild exposure to each cause + </p> + <p> + That starts i' the way before thee. + </p> + <h4> + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTITUDE. + </p> + <p> + Yield not thy neck + </p> + <p> + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + </p> + <p> + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + FORTUNE. + </p> + <p> + When fortune means to men most good, + </p> + <p> + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + GREATNESS. + </p> + <p> + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + </p> + <p> + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + </p> + <p> + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + </p> + <p> + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + </p> + <p> + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + </p> + <p> + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + </p> + <p> + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + </p> + <p> + And then he falls, as I do. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + </p> + <p> + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HAPPINESS. + </p> + <p> + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + </p> + <p> + through another man's eyes. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HONESTY. + </p> + <p> + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + </p> + <p> + when a knave is not. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + </p> + <p> + one man picked out of ten thousand. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + HYPOCRISY. + </p> + <p> + Devils soonest tempt, + </p> + <p> + resembling spirits of light. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + One may smile, and smile, + </p> + <p> + and be a villain. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- I. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INNOCENCE. + </p> + <p> + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + </p> + <p> + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + INSINUATIONS. + </p> + <p> + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + </p> + <p> + That calumny doth use;-- + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + For calumny will sear + </p> + <p> + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + </p> + <p> + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + </p> + <p> + Ere you can say she's honest. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JEALOUSY. + </p> + <p> + Trifles, light as air, + </p> + <p> + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + </p> + <p> + As proofs of holy writ. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O beware of jealousy: + </p> + <p> + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + </p> + <p> + The meat it feeds on. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JESTS. + </p> + <p> + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + </p> + <p> + of him that hears it. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + He jests at scars, + </p> + <p> + that never felt a wound. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + JUDGMENT. + </p> + <p> + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + </p> + <p> + That no king can corrupt. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LIFE. + </p> + <p> + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + </p> + <p> + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + </p> + <p> + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + </p> + <p> + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + </p> + <p> + Signifying nothing. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + We are such stuff + </p> + <p> + As dreams are made of, and our little life + </p> + <p> + Is rounded with a sleep. + </p> + <h4> + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + LOVE. + </p> + <p> + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + </p> + <p> + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Sweet love, changing his property, + </p> + <p> + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + When love begins to sicken and decay, + </p> + <p> + It useth an enforced ceremony. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + The course of true-love + </p> + <p> + never did run smooth. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Love looks not with the eyes, + </p> + <p> + but with the mind. + </p> + <h4> + Idem. + </h4> + <p> + She never told her love,-- + </p> + <p> + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + </p> + <p> + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + </p> + <p> + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + </p> + <p> + She sat like Patience on a monument, + </p> + <p> + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + </p> + <h4> + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + </h4> + <p> + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + </p> + <p> + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MAN. + </p> + <p> + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + </p> + <p> + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + </p> + <p> + how express and admirable! in action, how like + </p> + <p> + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + </p> + <p> + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERCY. + </p> + <p> + The quality of mercy is not strained: + </p> + <p> + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + </p> + <p> + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + </p> + <p> + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + </p> + <p> + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + </p> + <p> + The throned monarch better than his crown: + </p> + <p> + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + </p> + <p> + The attribute to awe and majesty, + </p> + <p> + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + </p> + <p> + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + </p> + <p> + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + </p> + <p> + It is an attribute to God himself; + </p> + <p> + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + </p> + <p> + When mercy seasons justice. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + Consider this,-- + </p> + <p> + That, in the course of justice, none of us + </p> + <p> + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + </p> + <p> + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + </p> + <p> + The deeds of mercy. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MERIT. + </p> + <p> + Who shall go about + </p> + <p> + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + </p> + <p> + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + </p> + <p> + To wear an undeserved dignity. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MODESTY. + </p> + <p> + It is the witness still of excellency, + </p> + <p> + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MORAL CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + </p> + <p> + That war against your own affections, + </p> + <p> + And the huge army of the world's desires. + </p> + <h4> + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MURDER. + </p> + <p> + The great King of kings + </p> + <p> + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + </p> + <p> + That thou shalt do no murder. + </p> + <p> + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + </p> + <p> + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + </p> + <p> + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + MUSIC. + </p> + <p> + The man that hath no music in himself, + </p> + <p> + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + </p> + <p> + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + </p> + <p> + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + </p> + <p> + And his affections dark as Erebus: + </p> + <p> + Let no such man be trusted. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NAMES. + </p> + <p> + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + </p> + <p> + By any other name would smell as sweet. + </p> + <h4> + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Good name, in man, and woman, + </p> + <p> + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + </p> + <p> + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + </p> + <p> + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + </p> + <p> + But he, that filches from me my good name, + </p> + <p> + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + </p> + <p> + And makes me poor indeed. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NATURE. + </p> + <p> + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + </p> + <p> + Though it be honest, it is never good + </p> + <p> + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + </p> + <p> + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + </p> + <p> + Themselves, when they be felt. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OFFICE. + </p> + <p> + 'Tis the curse of service; + </p> + <p> + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + </p> + <p> + Not by the old gradation, where each second + </p> + <p> + Stood heir to the first. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPORTUNITY. + </p> + <p> + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + </p> + <p> + Shall never find it more. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + </p> + <p> + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + </p> + <p> + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + </p> + <p> + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + </p> + <p> + And we must take the current when it serves, + </p> + <p> + Or lose our ventures. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + OPPRESSION. + </p> + <p> + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + </p> + <p> + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + </p> + <p> + Not you, correct them. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PAST AND FUTURE. + </p> + <p> + O thoughts of men accurst! + </p> + <p> + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PATIENCE. + </p> + <p> + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + </p> + <p> + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PEACE. + </p> + <p> + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + </p> + <p> + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + </p> + <p> + And neither party loser. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + </h4> + <p> + I will use the olive with my sword: + </p> + <p> + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + </p> + <p> + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + </p> + <h4> + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + </h4> + <p> + I know myself now; and I feel within me + </p> + <p> + A peace above all earthly dignities, + </p> + <p> + A still and quiet conscience. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PENITENCE. + </p> + <p> + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + </p> + <p> + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + </p> + <p> + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + </p> + <h4> + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PLAYERS. + </p> + <p> + All the world's a stage, + </p> + <p> + And all the men and women merely players: + </p> + <p> + They have their exits and their entrances; + </p> + <p> + And one man in his time plays many parts. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 7. + </h4> + <p> + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + </p> + <p> + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + </p> + <p> + not to speak it profanely, that, + </p> + <p> + neither having the accent of Christians, + </p> + <p> + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + </p> + <p> + have so strutted, and bellowed, + </p> + <p> + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + </p> + <p> + had made men and not made them well, + </p> + <p> + they imitated humanity so abominably. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + POMP. + </p> + <p> + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + </p> + <p> + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + </p> + <p> + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + </p> + <p> + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + </p> + <p> + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + </p> + <p> + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + </p> + <p> + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + </p> + <p> + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + </p> + <p> + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + </p> + <p> + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + </p> + <p> + the cripple. + </p> + <h4> + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + PRINCES AND TITLES. + </p> + <p> + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + </p> + <p> + An outward honor for an inward toil; + </p> + <p> + And, for unfelt imaginations, + </p> + <p> + They often feel a world of restless cares: + </p> + <p> + So that, between their titles, and low name, + </p> + <p> + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + QUARRELS. + </p> + <p> + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + </p> + <p> + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + </p> + <p> + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RAGE. + </p> + <p> + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPENTANCE. + </p> + <p> + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + </p> + <p> + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + REPUTATION. + </p> + <p> + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + </p> + <p> + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + </p> + <p> + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + </p> + <p> + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + </p> + <p> + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + </p> + <h4> + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + RETRIBUTION. + </p> + <p> + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + </p> + <p> + Make instruments to scourge us. + </p> + <h4> + King Lear -- V. S. + </h4> + <p> + If these men have defeated the law, + </p> + <p> + and outrun native punishment, + </p> + <p> + though they can outstrip men, + </p> + <p> + they have no wings to fly from God. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SCARS. + </p> + <p> + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + </p> + <p> + is a good livery of honor. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + </h4> + <p> + To such as boasting show their scars, + </p> + <p> + A mock is due. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-CONQUEST. + </p> + <p> + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + </p> + <p> + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + </p> + <p> + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + </p> + <h4> + King John -- III. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-EXERTION. + </p> + <p> + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + </p> + <p> + The fault is not in our stars, + </p> + <p> + But in ourselves. + </p> + <h4> + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SELF-RELIANCE. + </p> + <p> + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + </p> + <p> + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + </p> + <p> + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + </p> + <p> + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + </p> + <h4> + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SILENCE. + </p> + <p> + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + </p> + <p> + And in the modesty of fearful duty + </p> + <p> + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + </p> + <p> + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + </p> + <h4> + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + The silence often of pure innocence + </p> + <p> + Persuades, when speaking fails. + </p> + <h4> + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + </p> + <p> + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLANDER. + </p> + <p> + Slander, + </p> + <p> + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + </p> + <p> + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + </p> + <p> + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + </p> + <p> + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + </p> + <p> + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + </p> + <p> + This viperous slander enters. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SLEEP. + </p> + <p> + The innocent sleep; + </p> + <p> + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + </p> + <p> + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + </p> + <p> + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + </p> + <p> + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + </p> + <h4> + Macbeth -- II. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + SUICIDE. + </p> + <p> + Against self-slaughter + </p> + <p> + There is a prohibition so divine, + </p> + <p> + That cravens my weak hand. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TEMPERANCE. + </p> + <p> + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + </p> + <p> + For in my youth I never did apply + </p> + <p> + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + </p> + <p> + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + </p> + <p> + The means of weakness and debility: + </p> + <p> + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + </p> + <p> + Frosty, but kindly. + </p> + <h4> + As You Like It -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + THEORY AND PRACTICE. + </p> + <p> + There was never yet philosopher, + </p> + <p> + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + </p> + <p> + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + </p> + <p> + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + </p> + <h4> + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + TREACHERY. + </p> + <p> + Though those, that are betrayed, + </p> + <p> + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + </p> + <p> + Stands in worse case of woe. + </p> + <h4> + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + VALOR. + </p> + <p> + The better part of valor is--discretion. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + </h4> + <p> + When Valor preys on reason, + </p> + <p> + It eats the sword it fights with. + </p> + <h4> + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + </p> + <p> + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + </p> + <p> + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + </p> + <h4> + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WAR. + </p> + <p> + Take care + </p> + <p> + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + </p> + <p> + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + </p> + <h4> + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WELCOME. + </p> + <p> + Welcome ever smiles, + </p> + <p> + And farewell goes out sighing. + </p> + <p> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WINE. + </p> + <p> + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + </p> + <p> + if it be well used. + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + </p> + <p> + if thou hast no name to be known by, + </p> + <p> + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + </p> + <p> + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + </p> + <p> + to steal away their brains! + </p> + <p> + that we should with joy, revel, + </p> + <p> + pleasure, and applause, + </p> + <p> + transform ourselves into beasts! + </p> + <h4> + Othello -- II. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WOMAN. + </p> + <p> + A woman impudent and mannish grown + </p> + <p> + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORDS. + </p> + <p> + Words without thoughts + </p> + <p> + never to heaven go. + </p> + <h4> + Hamlet -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + </p> + <p> + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY CARE. + </p> + <p> + You have too much respect upon the world: + </p> + <p> + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + </p> + <h4> + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + </h4> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p> + WORLDLY HONORS. + </p> + <p> + Not a man, for being simply man, + </p> + <p> + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + </p> + <p> + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + </p> + <p> + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + </p> + <p> + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + </p> + <p> + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + </p> + <p> + Do one pluck down another, and together + </p> + <p> + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + </p> + <h4> + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + </h4> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + +***** This file should be named 1430-h.htm or 1430-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/3/1430/ + +Produced by Morrie Wilson, James Rose, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bafe1f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4441a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b62241 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ayli3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fd8c9c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b1a21eb --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5e1763 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7fe38f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc52bef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/cymbel5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6124e63 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f444cfa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..52f2773 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6098d06 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9bff091 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream6.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7a156a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/dream6.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..43832f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e88037c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d2ba37 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6ce467 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/errors4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..138f7c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38732f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec69896 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/hamlet3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..74f952c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1eb2ab8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8df939b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/klear3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfbec79 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d580785 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af72319 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f4b9a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/maan4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..41badd1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba61704 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..107a73e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e43d28f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61ffc0f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/macb5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e74dec --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..895a154 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..df0428d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/measure3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c228177 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6077726 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f47f28 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a6d50c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..489fe50 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/othello5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..da5faef --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ccff62 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/perci2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a82eff3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3dc5781 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..211ba73 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ab502e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d63dc84 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj6.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a9ca1a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/rj6.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b13c9f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..326698e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29c5a5c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8901b34 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/shrew4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2648e5a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63ce382 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4617427 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77c4cc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tempest4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4f4be68 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61b0308 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0f8a54 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a74fc30 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/timon4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d273e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f92e03 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2d028f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/tnight3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a435e75 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d953df --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9d8804 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..accd6e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1cde18b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/venice5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c26f6fd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7ef4920 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..19be495 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..022b2de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/verona4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f07945 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29e58d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..824dd21 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1e2395 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/well4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ws.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ws.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a9094c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/ws.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..de87229 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale1.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..54a26de --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale2.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e00d238 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale3.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7634758 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale4.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dac9eaa --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale5.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a52878d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430-h/images/wtale6.gif diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.txt b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..de8e232 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7421 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare + +Author: E. Nesbit + +Posting Date: August 15, 2008 [EBook #1430] +Release Date: August, 1998 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + + + + +Produced by Morrie Wilson and James Rose + + + + + +BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE + +By E. Nesbit + + + + + "It may be said of Shakespeare, that from his works may be + collected a system of civil and economical prudence. He has + been imitated by all succeeding writers; and it may be + doubted whether from all his successors more maxims of + theoretical knowledge, or more rules of practical prudence + can be collected than he alone has given to his country."-- + Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON. + + + + +PREFACE + + + +The writings of Shakespeare have been justly termed "the richest, the +purest, the fairest, that genius uninspired ever penned." + +Shakespeare instructed by delighting. His plays alone (leaving mere +science out of the question), contain more actual wisdom than the +whole body of English learning. He is the teacher of all good-- pity, +generosity, true courage, love. His bright wit is cut out "into little +stars." His solid masses of knowledge are meted out in morsels and +proverbs, and thus distributed, there is scarcely a corner of the +English-speaking world to-day which he does not illuminate, or a cottage +which he does not enrich. His bounty is like the sea, which, though +often unacknowledged, is everywhere felt. As his friend, Ben Jonson, +wrote of him, "He was not of an age but for all time." He ever kept the +highroad of human life whereon all travel. He did not pick out by-paths +of feeling and sentiment. In his creations we have no moral highwaymen, +sentimental thieves, interesting villains, and amiable, elegant +adventuresses--no delicate entanglements of situation, in which +the grossest images are presented to the mind disguised under the +superficial attraction of style and sentiment. He flattered no bad +passion, disguised no vice in the garb of virtue, trifled with no just +and generous principle. While causing us to laugh at folly, and shudder +at crime, he still preserves our love for our fellow-beings, and our +reverence for ourselves. + +Shakespeare was familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with +all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of +that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and +clear waters--and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland +solitudes, and moon-light bowers, which are the material elements of +poetry,--and with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to +mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying soul--and which, in +the midst of his most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of +sunshine on rocks and ruins--contrasting with all that is rugged or +repulsive, and reminding us of the existence of purer and brighter +elements. + +These things considered, what wonder is it that the works of +Shakespeare, next to the Bible, are the most highly esteemed of all the +classics of English literature. "So extensively have the characters of +Shakespeare been drawn upon by artists, poets, and writers of fiction," +says an American author,--"So interwoven are these characters in the +great body of English literature, that to be ignorant of the plot of +these dramas is often a cause of embarrassment." + +But Shakespeare wrote for grown-up people, for men and women, and in +words that little folks cannot understand. + +Hence this volume. To reproduce the entertaining stories contained +in the plays of Shakespeare, in a form so simple that children can +understand and enjoy them, was the object had in view by the author of +these Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare. + +And that the youngest readers may not stumble in pronouncing any +unfamiliar names to be met with in the stories, the editor has prepared +and included in the volume a Pronouncing Vocabulary of Difficult Names. +To which is added a collection of Shakespearean Quotations, classified +in alphabetical order, illustrative of the wisdom and genius of the +world's greatest dramatist. + +E. T. R. + + + + +A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE. + + + +In the register of baptisms of the parish church of Stratford-upon-Avon, +a market town in Warwickshire, England, appears, under date of April 26, +1564, the entry of the baptism of William, the son of John Shakspeare. +The entry is in Latin--"Gulielmus filius Johannis Shakspeare." + +The date of William Shakespeare's birth has usually been taken as three +days before his baptism, but there is certainly no evidence of this +fact. + +The family name was variously spelled, the dramatist himself not always +spelling it in the same way. While in the baptismal record the name is +spelled "Shakspeare," in several authentic autographs of the dramatist +it reads "Shakspere," and in the first edition of his works it is +printed "Shakespeare." + +Halliwell tells us, that there are not less than thirty-four ways in +which the various members of the Shakespeare family wrote the name, +and in the council-book of the corporation of Stratford, where it is +introduced one hundred and sixty-six times during the period that +the dramatist's father was a member of the municipal body, there are +fourteen different spellings. The modern "Shakespeare" is not among +them. + +Shakespeare's father, while an alderman at Stratford, appears to have +been unable to write his name, but as at that time nine men out of +ten were content to make their mark for a signature, the fact is not +specially to his discredit. + +The traditions and other sources of information about the occupation +of Shakespeare's father differ. He is described as a butcher, a +woolstapler, and a glover, and it is not impossible that he may have +been all of these simultaneously or at different times, or that if +he could not properly be called any one of them, the nature of his +occupation was such as to make it easy to understand how the various +traditions sprang up. He was a landed proprietor and cultivator of his +own land even before his marriage, and he received with his wife, who +was Mary Arden, daughter of a country gentleman, the estate of Asbies, +56 acres in extent. William was the third child. The two older than he +were daughters, and both probably died in infancy. After him was born +three sons and a daughter. For ten or twelve years at least, after +Shakespeare's birth his father continued to be in easy circumstances. In +the year 1568 he was the high bailiff or chief magistrate of Stratford, +and for many years afterwards he held the position of alderman as he +had done for three years before. To the completion of his tenth year, +therefore, it is natural to suppose that William Shakespeare would get +the best education that Stratford could afford. The free school of the +town was open to all boys and like all the grammar-schools of that time, +was under the direction of men who, as graduates of the universities, +were qualified to diffuse that sound scholarship which was once the +boast of England. There is no record of Shakespeare's having been at +this school, but there can be no rational doubt that he was educated +there. His father could not have procured for him a better education +anywhere. To those who have studied Shakespeare's works without being +influenced by the old traditional theory that he had received a very +narrow education, they abound with evidences that he must have been +solidly grounded in the learning, properly so called, was taught in the +grammar schools. + +There are local associations connected with Stratford which could not +be without their influence in the formation of young Shakespeare's mind. +Within the range of such a boy's curiosity were the fine old historic +towns of Warwick and Coventry, the sumptuous palace of Kenilworth, the +grand monastic remains of Evesham. His own Avon abounded with spots of +singular beauty, quiet hamlets, solitary woods. Nor was Stratford shut +out from the general world, as many country towns are. It was a great +highway, and dealers with every variety of merchandise resorted to its +markets. The eyes of the poet dramatist must always have been open for +observation. But nothing is known positively of Shakespeare from his +birth to his marriage to Anne Hathaway in 1582, and from that date +nothing but the birth of three children until we find him an actor in +London about 1589. + +How long acting continued to be Shakespeare's sole profession we have +no means of knowing, but it is in the highest degree probable that very +soon after arriving in London he began that work of adaptation by which +he is known to have begun his literary career. To improve and alter +older plays not up to the standard that was required at the time was +a common practice even among the best dramatists of the day, and +Shakespeare's abilities would speedily mark him out as eminently fitted +for this kind of work. When the alterations in plays originally composed +by other writers became very extensive, the work of adaptation would +become in reality a work of creation. And this is exactly what we have +examples of in a few of Shakespeare's early works, which are known to +have been founded on older plays. + +It is unnecessary here to extol the published works of the world's +greatest dramatist. Criticism has been exhausted upon them, and the +finest minds of England, Germany, and America have devoted their powers +to an elucidation of their worth. + +Shakespeare died at Stratford on the 23rd of April, 1616. His father had +died before him, in 1602, and his mother in 1608. His wife survived +him till August, 1623. His so Hamnet died in 1596 at the age of eleven +years. His two daughters survived him, the eldest of whom, Susanna, had, +in 1607, married a physician of Stratford, Dr. Hall. The only issue of +this marriage, a daughter named Elizabeth, born in 1608, married first +Thomas Nasbe, and afterwards Sir John Barnard, but left no children by +either marriage. Shakespeare's younger daughter, Judith, on the 10th of +February, 1616, married a Stratford gentleman named Thomas Quincy, by +whom she had three sons, all of whom died, however, without issue. There +are thus no direct descendants of Shakespeare. + +Shakespeare's fellow-actors, fellow-dramatists, and those who knew him +in other ways, agree in expressing not only admiration of his genius, +but their respect and love for the man. Ben Jonson said, "I love the +man, and do honor his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any. He +was indeed honest, and of an open and free nature." He was buried on +the second day after his death, on the north side of the chancel +of Stratford church. Over his grave there is a flat stone with this +inscription, said to have been written by himself: + + Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare + To digg the dust encloased heare: + Blest be ye man yt spares these stones, + And curst be he yt moves my bones. + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + PREFACE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 + A BRIEF LIFE OF SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . . 7 + A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + THE TEMPEST . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + AS YOU LIKE IT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + THE WINTER'S TALE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + KING LEAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 + TWELFTH NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + PERICLES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 + HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129 + CYMBELINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 + THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + TIMON OF ATHENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 + THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + MEASURE FOR MEASURE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 + TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES . . . . . . . . 286 + QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . . 288 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + PAGE + TITANIA: THE QUEEN OF THE FAIRIES . . . . . . . 20 + THE QUARREL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 + HELENA IN THE WOOD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 + TITANIA PLACED UNDER A SPELL . . . . . . . . . 30 + TITANIA AWAKES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 + PRINCE FERDINAND IN THE SEA . . . . . . . . . . 36 + PRINCE FERDINAND SEES MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . 39 + PLAYING CHESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42 + ROSALIND AND CELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 + ROSALIND GIVES ORLANDO A CHAIN . . . . . . . . 47 + GANYMEDE FAINTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 + LEFT ON THE SEA-COAST . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 + THE KING WOULD NOT LOOK . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 + LEONTES RECEIVING FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . 60 + FLORIZEL AND PERDITA TALKING . . . . . . . . . 62 + HERMOINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 + CORDELIA AND THE KING OF FRANCE . . . . . . . . 67 + GONERIL AND REGAN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 + CORDELIA IN PRISON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 + VIOLA AND THE CAPTAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 + VIOLA AS "CESARIO" MEETS OLIVIA . . . . . . . . 76 + "YOU TOO HAVE BEEN IN LOVE" . . . . . . . . . . 78 + CLAUDIA AND HERO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 + HERO AND URSULA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 + BENEDICK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 + FRIAR FRANCIS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 + ROMEO AND TYBALT FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + ROMEO DISCOVERS JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 + MARRIAGE OF ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . 111 + THE NURSE THINKS JULIET DEAD . . . . . . . . . 115 + ROMEO ENTERING THE TOMB . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 + PERICLES WINS IN THE TOURNAMENT . . . . . . . . 122 + PERICLES AND MARINA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 + THE KING'S GHOST APPEARS . . . . . . . . . . . 131 + POLONIUS KILLED BY HAMLET . . . . . . . . . . . 135 + DROWNING OF OPHELIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 + IACHIMO AND IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + IACHIMO IN THE TRUNK . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 + IMOGEN STUPEFIED . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 + IMOGEN AND LEONATUS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 151 + THE THREE WITCHES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 + FROM "MACBETH" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 + LADY MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 + KING AND QUEEN MACBETH . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 + MACBETH AND MACDUFF FIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . 163 + ANTIPHOLUS AND DROMIO . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 + LUCIANA AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . . . . 175 + THE GOLDSMITH AND ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE . . . 178 + AEMILIA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 + THE PRINCE OF MOROCCO . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 + ANTONIO SIGNS THE BOND . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 + JESSICA LEAVING HOME . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 + BASSANIO PARTS WITH THE RING . . . . . . . . . 192 + POET READING TO TIMON . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 + PAINTER SHOWING TIMON A PICTURE . . . . . . . 197 + "NOTHING BUT AN EMPTY BOX" . . . . . . . . . . 200 + TIMON GROWS SULLEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 + OTHELLO TELLING DESDEMONA HIS ADVENTURES . . . 211 + OTHELLO . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 + THE DRINK OF WINE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 + CASSIO GIVES THE HANDKERCHIEF . . . . . . . . 222 + DESDEMONA WEEPING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 + THE MUSIC MASTER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229 + KATHARINE BOXES THE SERVANT'S EARS . . . . . . 232 + PETRUCHIO FINDS FAULT WITH THE SUPPER . . . . 235 + THE DUKE IN THE FRIAR'S DRESS . . . . . . . . 244 + ISABELLA PLEADS WITH ANGELO . . . . . . . . . 247 + "YOUR FRIAR IS NOW YOUR PRINCE" . . . . . . . 253 + VALENTINE WRITES A LETTER FOR SILVIA . . . . . 258 + SILVIA READING THE LETTER . . . . . . . . . . 259 + THE SERENADE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 + ONE OF THE OUTLAWS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 + HELENA AND BERTRAM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 + HELENA AND THE KING . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 + READING BERTRAM'S LETTER . . . . . . . . . . . 281 + HELENA AND THE WIDOW . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 + + + + +LIST OF FOUR-COLOR PLATES + + PAGE + WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece + TITANIA AND THE CLOWN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 + FERDINAND AND MIRANDA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 + PRINCE FLORIZEL AND PERDITA . . . . . . . . . . 54 + ROMEO AND JULIET . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 + IMOGEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141 + CHOOSING THE CASKET . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 + PETRUCHIO AND KATHERINE . . . . . . . . . . . 228 + + + + + +A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM + + + +Hermia and Lysander were lovers; but Hermia's father wished her to marry +another man, named Demetrius. + +Now, in Athens, where they lived, there was a wicked law, by which any +girl who refused to marry according to her father's wishes, might be put +to death. Hermia's father was so angry with her for refusing to do as +he wished, that he actually brought her before the Duke of Athens to +ask that she might be killed, if she still refused to obey him. The Duke +gave her four days to think about it, and, at the end of that time, if +she still refused to marry Demetrius, she would have to die. + +Lysander of course was nearly mad with grief, and the best thing to +do seemed to him for Hermia to run away to his aunt's house at a place +beyond the reach of that cruel law; and there he would come to her and +marry her. But before she started, she told her friend, Helena, what she +was going to do. + +Helena had been Demetrius' sweetheart long before his marriage with +Hermia had been thought of, and being very silly, like all jealous +people, she could not see that it was not poor Hermia's fault that +Demetrius wished to marry her instead of his own lady, Helena. She knew +that if she told Demetrius that Hermia was going, as she was, to the +wood outside Athens, he would follow her, "and I can follow him, and +at least I shall see him," she said to herself. So she went to him, and +betrayed her friend's secret. + +Now this wood where Lysander was to meet Hermia, and where the other two +had decided to follow them, was full of fairies, as most woods are, if +one only had the eyes to see them, and in this wood on this night were +the King and Queen of the fairies, Oberon and Titania. Now fairies +are very wise people, but now and then they can be quite as foolish as +mortal folk. Oberon and Titania, who might have been as happy as the +days were long, had thrown away all their joy in a foolish quarrel. They +never met without saying disagreeable things to each other, and scolded +each other so dreadfully that all their little fairy followers, for +fear, would creep into acorn cups and hide them there. + +So, instead of keeping one happy Court and dancing all night through in +the moonlight as is fairies' use, the King with his attendants wandered +through one part of the wood, while the Queen with hers kept state in +another. And the cause of all this trouble was a little Indian boy whom +Titania had taken to be one of her followers. Oberon wanted the child to +follow him and be one of his fairy knights; but the Queen would not give +him up. + +On this night, in a mossy moonlit glade, the King and Queen of the +fairies met. + +"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the King. + +"What! jealous, Oberon?" answered the Queen. "You spoil everything with +your quarreling. Come, fairies, let us leave him. I am not friends with +him now." + +"It rests with you to make up the quarrel," said the King. + +"Give me that little Indian boy, and I will again be your humble servant +and suitor." + +"Set your mind at rest," said the Queen. "Your whole fairy kingdom buys +not that boy from me. Come, fairies." + +And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. + +"Well, go your ways," said Oberon. "But I'll be even with you before you +leave this wood." + +Then Oberon called his favorite fairy, Puck. Puck was the spirit of +mischief. He used to slip into the dairies and take the cream away, and +get into the churn so that the butter would not come, and turn the beer +sour, and lead people out of their way on dark nights and then laugh at +them, and tumble people's stools from under them when they were going to +sit down, and upset their hot ale over their chins when they were going +to drink. + +"Now," said Oberon to this little sprite, "fetch me the flower called +Love-in-idleness. The juice of that little purple flower laid on the +eyes of those who sleep will make them, when they wake, to love the +first thing they see. I will put some of the juice of that flower on +my Titania's eyes, and when she wakes she will love the first thing she +sees, were it lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, or meddling monkey, or a +busy ape." + +While Puck was gone, Demetrius passed through the glade followed by poor +Helena, and still she told him how she loved him and reminded him of all +his promises, and still he told her that he did not and could not love +her, and that his promises were nothing. Oberon was sorry for poor +Helena, and when Puck returned with the flower, he bade him follow +Demetrius and put some of the juice on his eyes, so that he might love +Helena when he woke and looked on her, as much as she loved him. So +Puck set off, and wandering through the wood found, not Demetrius, but +Lysander, on whose eyes he put the juice; but when Lysander woke, he saw +not his own Hermia, but Helena, who was walking through the wood looking +for the cruel Demetrius; and directly he saw her he loved her and left +his own lady, under the spell of the purple flower. + +When Hermia woke she found Lysander gone, and wandered about the wood +trying to find him. Puck went back and told Oberon what he had done, +and Oberon soon found that he had made a mistake, and set about looking +for Demetrius, and having found him, put some of the juice on his eyes. +And the first thing Demetrius saw when he woke was also Helena. So now +Demetrius and Lysander were both following her through the wood, and it +was Hermia's turn to follow her lover as Helena had done before. The +end of it was that Helena and Hermia began to quarrel, and Demetrius and +Lysander went off to fight. Oberon was very sorry to see his kind scheme +to help these lovers turn out so badly. So he said to Puck-- + +"These two young men are going to fight. You must overhang the night +with drooping fog, and lead them so astray, that one will never find the +other. When they are tired out, they will fall asleep. Then drop this +other herb on Lysander's eyes. That will give him his old sight and his +old love. Then each man will have the lady who loves him, and they will +all think that this has been only a Midsummer Night's Dream. Then when +this is done, all will be well with them." + +So Puck went and did as he was told, and when the two had fallen asleep +without meeting each other, Puck poured the juice on Lysander's eyes, +and said:-- + + "When thou wakest, + Thou takest + True delight + In the sight + Of thy former lady's eye: + Jack shall have Jill; + Nought shall go ill." + +Meanwhile Oberon found Titania asleep on a bank where grew wild thyme, +oxlips, and violets, and woodbine, musk-roses and eglantine. There +Titania always slept a part of the night, wrapped in the enameled skin +of a snake. Oberon stooped over her and laid the juice on her eyes, +saying:-- + + "What thou seest when thou wake, + Do it for thy true love take." + +Now, it happened that when Titania woke the first thing she saw was a +stupid clown, one of a party of players who had come out into the wood +to rehearse their play. This clown had met with Puck, who had clapped +an ass's head on his shoulders so that it looked as if it grew there. +Directly Titania woke and saw this dreadful monster, she said, "What +angel is this? Are you as wise as you are beautiful?" + +"If I am wise enough to find my way out of this wood, that's enough for +me," said the foolish clown. + +"Do not desire to go out of the wood," said Titania. The spell of the +love-juice was on her, and to her the clown seemed the most beautiful +and delightful creature on all the earth. "I love you," she went on. +"Come with me, and I will give you fairies to attend on you." + +So she called four fairies, whose names were Peaseblossom, Cobweb, Moth, +and Mustardseed. + +"You must attend this gentleman," said the Queen. "Feed him with +apricots and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries. +Steal honey-bags for him from the bumble-bees, and with the wings of +painted butterflies fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes." + +"I will," said one of the fairies, and all the others said, "I will." + +"Now, sit down with me," said the Queen to the clown, "and let me stroke +your dear cheeks, and stick musk-roses in your smooth, sleek head, and +kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy." + +"Where's Peaseblossom?" asked the clown with the ass's head. He did not +care much about the Queen's affection, but he was very proud of having +fairies to wait on him. "Ready," said Peaseblossom. + +"Scratch my head, Peaseblossom," said the clown. "Where's Cobweb?" +"Ready," said Cobweb. + +"Kill me," said the clown, "the red bumble-bee on the top of the thistle +yonder, and bring me the honey-bag. Where's Mustardseed?" + +"Ready," said Mustardseed. + +"Oh, I want nothing," said the clown. "Only just help Cobweb to scratch. +I must go to the barber's, for methinks I am marvelous hairy about the +face." + +"Would you like anything to eat?" said the fairy Queen. + +"I should like some good dry oats," said the clown--for his donkey's +head made him desire donkey's food--"and some hay to follow." + +"Shall some of my fairies fetch you new nuts from the squirrel's house?" +asked the Queen. + +"I'd rather have a handful or two of good dried peas," said the clown. +"But please don't let any of your people disturb me; I am going to +sleep." + +Then said the Queen, "And I will wind thee in my arms." + +And so when Oberon came along he found his beautiful Queen lavishing +kisses and endearments on a clown with a donkey's head. + +And before he released her from the enchantment, he persuaded her to +give him the little Indian boy he so much desired to have. Then he took +pity on her, and threw some juice of the disenchanting flower on her +pretty eyes; and then in a moment she saw plainly the donkey-headed +clown she had been loving, and knew how foolish she had been. + +Oberon took off the ass's head from the clown, and left him to finish +his sleep with his own silly head lying on the thyme and violets. + +Thus all was made plain and straight again. Oberon and Titania loved +each other more than ever. Demetrius thought of no one but Helena, and +Helena had never had any thought of anyone but Demetrius. + +As for Hermia and Lysander, they were as loving a couple as you could +meet in a day's march, even through a fairy wood. + +So the four mortal lovers went back to Athens and were married; and the +fairy King and Queen live happily together in that very wood at this +very day. + + + + +THE TEMPEST + + + +Prospero, the Duke of Milan, was a learned and studious man, who lived +among his books, leaving the management of his dukedom to his brother +Antonio, in whom indeed he had complete trust. But that trust was +ill-rewarded, for Antonio wanted to wear the duke's crown himself, and, +to gain his ends, would have killed his brother but for the love the +people bore him. However, with the help of Prospero's great enemy, +Alonso, King of Naples, he managed to get into his hands the dukedom +with all its honor, power, and riches. For they took Prospero to sea, +and when they were far away from land, forced him into a little boat +with no tackle, mast, or sail. In their cruelty and hatred they put his +little daughter, Miranda (not yet three years old), into the boat with +him, and sailed away, leaving them to their fate. + +But one among the courtiers with Antonio was true to his rightful +master, Prospero. To save the duke from his enemies was impossible, but +much could be done to remind him of a subject's love. So this worthy +lord, whose name was Gonzalo, secretly placed in the boat some fresh +water, provisions, and clothes, and what Prospero valued most of all, +some of his precious books. + +The boat was cast on an island, and Prospero and his little one landed +in safety. Now this island was enchanted, and for years had lain under +the spell of a fell witch, Sycorax, who had imprisoned in the trunks +of trees all the good spirits she found there. She died shortly before +Prospero was cast on those shores, but the spirits, of whom Ariel was +the chief, still remained in their prisons. + +Prospero was a great magician, for he had devoted himself almost +entirely to the study of magic during the years in which he allowed +his brother to manage the affairs of Milan. By his art he set free the +imprisoned spirits, yet kept them obedient to his will, and they were +more truly his subjects than his people in Milan had been. For he +treated them kindly as long as they did his bidding, and he exercised +his power over them wisely and well. One creature alone he found it +necessary to treat with harshness: this was Caliban, the son of the +wicked old witch, a hideous, deformed monster, horrible to look on, and +vicious and brutal in all his habits. + +When Miranda was grown up into a maiden, sweet and fair to see, it +chanced that Antonio and Alonso, with Sebastian, his brother, and +Ferdinand, his son, were at sea together with old Gonzalo, and their +ship came near Prospero's island. Prospero, knowing they were there, +raised by his art a great storm, so that even the sailors on board gave +themselves up for lost; and first among them all Prince Ferdinand leaped +into the sea, and, as his father thought in his grief, was drowned. But +Ariel brought him safe ashore; and all the rest of the crew, although +they were washed overboard, were landed unhurt in different parts of +the island, and the good ship herself, which they all thought had been +wrecked, lay at anchor in the harbor whither Ariel had brought her. Such +wonders could Prospero and his spirits perform. + +While yet the tempest was raging, Prospero showed his daughter the brave +ship laboring in the trough of the sea, and told her that it was filled +with living human beings like themselves. She, in pity of their lives, +prayed him who had raised this storm to quell it. Then her father bade +her to have no fear, for he intended to save every one of them. + +Then, for the first time, he told her the story of his life and hers, +and that he had caused this storm to rise in order that his enemies, +Antonio and Alonso, who were on board, might be delivered into his +hands. + +When he had made an end of his story he charmed her into sleep, for +Ariel was at hand, and he had work for him to do. Ariel, who longed +for his complete freedom, grumbled to be kept in drudgery, but on being +threateningly reminded of all the sufferings he had undergone when +Sycorax ruled in the land, and of the debt of gratitude he owed to the +master who had made those sufferings to end, he ceased to complain, and +promised faithfully to do whatever Prospero might command. + +"Do so," said Prospero, "and in two days I will discharge thee." + +Then he bade Ariel take the form of a water nymph and sent him in search +of the young prince. And Ariel, invisible to Ferdinand, hovered near +him, singing the while-- + + "Come unto these yellow sands + And then take hands: + Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd + (The wild waves whist), + Foot it featly here and there; + And, sweet sprites, the burden bear!" + +And Ferdinand followed the magic singing, as the song changed to a +solemn air, and the words brought grief to his heart, and tears to his +eyes, for thus they ran-- + + "Full fathom five thy father lies; + Of his bones are coral made. + Those are pearls that were his eyes, + Nothing of him that doth fade, + But doth suffer a sea-change + Into something rich and strange. + Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell. + Hark! now I hear them,-- ding dong bell!" + +And so singing, Ariel led the spell-bound prince into the presence of +Prospero and Miranda. Then, behold! all happened as Prospero desired. +For Miranda, who had never, since she could first remember, seen +any human being save her father, looked on the youthful prince with +reverence in her eyes, and love in her secret heart. + +"I might call him," she said, "a thing divine, for nothing natural I +ever saw so noble!" + +And Ferdinand, beholding her beauty with wonder and delight, exclaimed-- + +"Most sure the goddess on whom these airs attend!" + +Nor did he attempt to hide the passion which she inspired in him, for +scarcely had they exchanged half a dozen sentences, before he vowed to +make her his queen if she were willing. But Prospero, though secretly +delighted, pretended wrath. + +"You come here as a spy," he said to Ferdinand. "I will manacle your +neck and feet together, and you shall feed on fresh water mussels, +withered roots and husk, and have sea-water to drink. Follow." + +"No," said Ferdinand, and drew his sword. But on the instant Prospero +charmed him so that he stood there like a statue, still as stone; and +Miranda in terror prayed her father to have mercy on her lover. But he +harshly refused her, and made Ferdinand follow him to his cell. There +he set the Prince to work, making him remove thousands of heavy logs of +timber and pile them up; and Ferdinand patiently obeyed, and thought his +toil all too well repaid by the sympathy of the sweet Miranda. + +She in very pity would have helped him in his hard work, but he would +not let her, yet he could not keep from her the secret of his love, and +she, hearing it, rejoiced and promised to be his wife. + +Then Prospero released him from his servitude, and glad at heart, he +gave his consent to their marriage. + +"Take her," he said, "she is thine own." + +In the meantime, Antonio and Sebastian in another part of the island +were plotting the murder of Alonso, the King of Naples, for Ferdinand +being dead, as they thought, Sebastian would succeed to the throne on +Alonso's death. And they would have carried out their wicked purpose +while their victim was asleep, but that Ariel woke him in good time. + +Many tricks did Ariel play them. Once he set a banquet before them, and +just as they were going to fall to, he appeared to them amid thunder +and lightning in the form of a harpy, and immediately the banquet +disappeared. Then Ariel upbraided them with their sins and vanished too. + +Prospero by his enchantments drew them all to the grove without his +cell, where they waited, trembling and afraid, and now at last bitterly +repenting them of their sins. + +Prospero determined to make one last use of his magic power, "And then," +said he, "I'll break my staff and deeper than did ever plummet sound +I'll drown my book." + +So he made heavenly music to sound in the air, and appeared to them in +his proper shape as the Duke of Milan. Because they repented, he +forgave them and told them the story of his life since they had cruelly +committed him and his baby daughter to the mercy of wind and waves. +Alonso, who seemed sorriest of them all for his past crimes, lamented +the loss of his heir. But Prospero drew back a curtain and showed them +Ferdinand and Miranda playing at chess. Great was Alonso's joy to greet +his loved son again, and when he heard that the fair maid with whom +Ferdinand was playing was Prospero's daughter, and that the young folks +had plighted their troth, he said-- + +"Give me your hands, let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart that +doth not wish you joy." + +So all ended happily. The ship was safe in the harbor, and next day they +all set sail for Naples, where Ferdinand and Miranda were to be married. +Ariel gave them calm seas and auspicious gales; and many were the +rejoicings at the wedding. + +Then Prospero, after many years of absence, went back to his own +dukedom, where he was welcomed with great joy by his faithful subjects. +He practiced the arts of magic no more, but his life was happy, and not +only because he had found his own again, but chiefly because, when his +bitterest foes who had done him deadly wrong lay at his mercy, he took +no vengeance on them, but nobly forgave them. + +As for Ariel, Prospero made him free as air, so that he could wander +where he would, and sing with a light heart his sweet song-- + + "Where the bee sucks, there suck I: + In a cowslip's bell I lie; + There I couch when owls do cry. + On the bat's back I do fly + After summer, merrily: + Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, + Under the blossom that hangs on the bough." + + + + +AS YOU LIKE IT + + + +There was once a wicked Duke named Frederick, who took the dukedom that +should have belonged to his brother, sending him into exile. His +brother went into the Forest of Arden, where he lived the life of a bold +forester, as Robin Hood did in Sherwood Forest in merry England. + +The banished Duke's daughter, Rosalind, remained with Celia, Frederick's +daughter, and the two loved each other more than most sisters. One day +there was a wrestling match at Court, and Rosalind and Celia went to see +it. Charles, a celebrated wrestler, was there, who had killed many men +in contests of this kind. Orlando, the young man he was to wrestle with, +was so slender and youthful, that Rosalind and Celia thought he would +surely be killed, as others had been; so they spoke to him, and asked +him not to attempt so dangerous an adventure; but the only effect of +their words was to make him wish more to come off well in the encounter, +so as to win praise from such sweet ladies. + +Orlando, like Rosalind's father, was being kept out of his inheritance +by his brother, and was so sad at his brother's unkindness that, until +he saw Rosalind, he did not care much whether he lived or died. But now +the sight of the fair Rosalind gave him strength and courage, so that +he did marvelously, and at last, threw Charles to such a tune, that the +wrestler had to be carried off the ground. Duke Frederick was pleased +with his courage, and asked his name. + +"My name is Orlando, and I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys," +said the young man. + +Now Sir Rowland de Boys, when he was alive, had been a good friend to +the banished Duke, so that Frederick heard with regret whose son Orlando +was, and would not befriend him. But Rosalind was delighted to hear that +this handsome young stranger was the son of her father's old friend, and +as they were going away, she turned back more than once to say another +kind word to the brave young man. + +"Gentleman," she said, giving him a chain from her neck, "wear this for +me. I could give more, but that my hand lacks means." + +Rosalind and Celia, when they were alone, began to talk about the +handsome wrestler, and Rosalind confessed that she loved him at first +sight. + +"Come, come," said Celia, "wrestle with thy affections." + +"Oh," answered Rosalind, "they take the part of a better wrestler than +myself. Look, here comes the Duke." + +"With his eyes full of anger," said Celia. + +"You must leave the Court at once," he said to Rosalind. "Why?" she +asked. + +"Never mind why," answered the Duke, "you are banished. If within ten +days you are found within twenty miles of my Court, you die." + +So Rosalind set out to seek her father, the banished Duke, in the Forest +of Arden. Celia loved her too much to let her go alone, and as it was +rather a dangerous journey, Rosalind, being the taller, dressed up as +a young countryman, and her cousin as a country girl, and Rosalind said +that she would be called Ganymede, and Celia, Aliena. They were very +tired when at last they came to the Forest of Arden, and as they were +sitting on the grass a countryman passed that way, and Ganymede +asked him if he could get them food. He did so, and told them that +a shepherd's flocks and house were to be sold. They bought these and +settled down as shepherd and shepherdess in the forest. + +In the meantime, Oliver having sought to take his brother Orlando's +life, Orlando also wandered into the forest, and there met with the +rightful Duke, and being kindly received, stayed with him. Now, Orlando +could think of nothing but Rosalind, and he went about the forest +carving her name on trees, and writing love sonnets and hanging them on +the bushes, and there Rosalind and Celia found them. One day Orlando met +them, but he did not know Rosalind in her boy's clothes, though he liked +the pretty shepherd youth, because he fancied a likeness in him to her +he loved. + +"There is a foolish lover," said Rosalind, "who haunts these woods and +hangs sonnets on the trees. If I could find him, I would soon cure him +of his folly." + +Orlando confessed that he was the foolish lover, and Rosalind said--"If +you will come and see me every day, I will pretend to be Rosalind, and I +will take her part, and be wayward and contrary, as is the way of women, +till I make you ashamed of your folly in loving her." + +And so every day he went to her house, and took a pleasure in saying to +her all the pretty things he would have said to Rosalind; and she had +the fine and secret joy of knowing that all his love-words came to the +right ears. Thus many days passed pleasantly away. + +One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a man asleep +on the ground, and that there was a lioness crouching near, waiting for +the man who was asleep to wake: for they say that lions will not prey on +anything that is dead or sleeping. Then Orlando looked at the man, and +saw that it was his wicked brother, Oliver, who had tried to take his +life. He fought with the lioness and killed her, and saved his brother's +life. + +While Orlando was fighting the lioness, Oliver woke to see his brother, +whom he had treated so badly, saving him from a wild beast at the risk +of his own life. This made him repent of his wickedness, and he begged +Orlando's pardon, and from thenceforth they were dear brothers. The +lioness had wounded Orlando's arm so much, that he could not go on to +see the shepherd, so he sent his brother to ask Ganymede to come to him. + +Oliver went and told the whole story to Ganymede and Aliena, and Aliena +was so charmed with his manly way of confessing his faults, that she +fell in love with him at once. But when Ganymede heard of the danger +Orlando had been in she fainted; and when she came to herself, said +truly enough, "I should have been a woman by right." + +Oliver went back to his brother and told him all this, saying, "I love +Aliena so well that I will give up my estates to you and marry her, and +live here as a shepherd." + +"Let your wedding be to-morrow," said Orlando, "and I will ask the Duke +and his friends." + +When Orlando told Ganymede how his brother was to be married on the +morrow, he added: "Oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness +through another man's eyes." + +Then answered Rosalind, still in Ganymede's dress and speaking with his +voic--"If you do love Rosalind so near the heart, then when your brother +marries Aliena, shall you marry her." + +Now the next day the Duke and his followers, and Orlando, and Oliver, +and Aliena, were all gathered together for the wedding. + +Then Ganymede came in and said to the Duke, "If I bring in your daughter +Rosalind, will you give her to Orlando here?" "That I would," said the +Duke, "if I had all kingdoms to give with her." + +"And you say you will have her when I bring her?" she said to Orlando. +"That would I," he answered, "were I king of all kingdoms." + +Then Rosalind and Celia went out, and Rosalind put on her pretty woman's +clothes again, and after a while came back. + +She turned to her father--"I give myself to you, for I am yours." "If +there be truth in sight," he said, "you are my daughter." + +Then she said to Orlando, "I give myself to you, for I am yours." "If +there be truth in sight," he said, "you are my Rosalind." + +"I will have no father if you be not he," she said to the Duke, and to +Orlando, "I will have no husband if you be not he." + +So Orlando and Rosalind were married, and Oliver and Celia, and they +lived happy ever after, returning with the Duke to the kingdom. For +Frederick had been shown by a holy hermit the wickedness of his ways, +and so gave back the dukedom of his brother, and himself went into a +monastery to pray for forgiveness. + +The wedding was a merry one, in the mossy glades of the forest. A +shepherd and shepherdess who had been friends with Rosalind, when she +was herself disguised as a shepherd, were married on the same day, and +all with such pretty feastings and merrymakings as could be nowhere +within four walls, but only in the beautiful green wood. + + + + +THE WINTER'S TALE + + + +Leontes was the King of Sicily, and his dearest friend was Polixenes, +King of Bohemia. They had been brought up together, and only separated +when they reached man's estate and each had to go and rule over +his kingdom. After many years, when each was married and had a son, +Polixenes came to stay with Leontes in Sicily. + +Leontes was a violent-tempered man and rather silly, and he took it into +his stupid head that his wife, Hermione, liked Polixenes better than +she did him, her own husband. When once he had got this into his head, +nothing could put it out; and he ordered one of his lords, Camillo, to +put a poison in Polixenes' wine. Camillo tried to dissuade him from this +wicked action, but finding he was not to be moved, pretended to consent. +He then told Polixenes what was proposed against him, and they fled from +the Court of Sicily that night, and returned to Bohemia, where Camillo +lived on as Polixenes' friend and counselor. + +Leontes threw the Queen into prison; and her son, the heir to the +throne, died of sorrow to see his mother so unjustly and cruelly +treated. + +While the Queen was in prison she had a little baby, and a friend of +hers, named Paulina, had the baby dressed in its best, and took it to +show the King, thinking that the sight of his helpless little daughter +would soften his heart towards his dear Queen, who had never done him +any wrong, and who loved him a great deal more than he deserved; but the +King would not look at the baby, and ordered Paulina's husband to take +it away in a ship, and leave it in the most desert and dreadful place +he could find, which Paulina's husband, very much against his will, was +obliged to do. + +Then the poor Queen was brought up to be tried for treason in preferring +Polixenes to her King; but really she had never thought of anyone except +Leontes, her husband. Leontes had sent some messengers to ask the god, +Apollo, whether he was not right in his cruel thoughts of the Queen. But +he had not patience to wait till they came back, and so it happened that +they arrived in the middle of the trial. The Oracle said-- + +"Hermione is innocent, Polixenes blameless, Camillo a true subject, +Leontes a jealous tyrant, and the King shall live without an heir, if +that which is lost be not found." + +Then a man came and told them that the little Prince was dead. The +poor Queen, hearing this, fell down in a fit; and then the King saw how +wicked and wrong he had been. He ordered Paulina and the ladies who were +with the Queen to take her away, and try to restore her. But Paulina +came back in a few moments, and told the King that Hermione was dead. + +Now Leontes' eyes were at last opened to his folly. His Queen was dead, +and the little daughter who might have been a comfort to him he had sent +away to be the prey of wolves and kites. Life had nothing left for him +now. He gave himself up to his grief, and passed in any sad years in +prayer and remorse. + +The baby Princess was left on the seacoast of Bohemia, the very kingdom +where Polixenes reigned. Paulina's husband never went home to tell +Leontes where he had left the baby; for as he was going back to the +ship, he met a bear and was torn to pieces. So there was an end of him. + +But the poor deserted little baby was found by a shepherd. She was +richly dressed, and had with her some jewels, and a paper was pinned to +her cloak, saying that her name was Perdita, and that she came of noble +parents. + +The shepherd, being a kind-hearted man, took home the little baby to +his wife, and they brought it up as their own child. She had no more +teaching than a shepherd's child generally has, but she inherited from +her royal mother many graces and charms, so that she was quite different +from the other maidens in the village where she lived. + +One day Prince Florizel, the son of the good King of Bohemia, was +bunting near the shepherd's house and saw Perdita, now grown up to a +charming woman. He made friends with the shepherd, not telling him that +he was the Prince, but saying that his name was Doricles, and that he +was a private gentleman; and then, being deeply in love with the pretty +Perdita, he came almost daily to see her. + +The King could not understand what it was that took his son nearly every +day from home; so he set people to watch him, and then found out that +the heir of the King of Bohemia was in love with Perdita, the pretty +shepherd girl. Polixenes, wishing to see whether this was true, +disguised himself, and went with the faithful Camillo, in disguise +too, to the old shepherd's house. They arrived at the feast of +sheep-shearing, and, though strangers, they were made very welcome. +There was dancing going on, and a peddler was selling ribbons and laces +and gloves, which the young men bought for their sweethearts. + +Florizel and Perdita, however, were taking no part in this gay scene, +but sat quietly together talking. The King noticed the charming manners +and great beauty of Perdita, never guessing that she was the daughter of +his old friend, Leontes. He said to Camillo-- + +"This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever ran on the green +sward. Nothing she does or seems but smacks of something greater than +herself--too noble for this place." + +And Camillo answered, "In truth she is the Queen of curds and cream." + +But when Florizel, who did not recognize his father, called upon the +strangers to witness his betrothal with the pretty shepherdess, the King +made himself known and forbade the marriage, adding that if ever she saw +Florizel again, he would kill her and her old father, the shepherd; and +with that he left them. But Camillo remained behind, for he was charmed +with Perdita, and wished to befriend her. + +Camillo had long known how sorry Leontes was for that foolish madness of +his, and he longed to go back to Sicily to see his old master. He now +proposed that the young people should go there and claim the protection +of Leontes. So they went, and the shepherd went with them, taking +Perdita's jewels, her baby clothes, and the paper he had found pinned to +her cloak. + +Leontes received them with great kindness. He was very polite to Prince +Florizel, but all his looks were for Perdita. He saw how much she was +like the Queen Hermione, and said again and again-- + +"Such a sweet creature my daughter might have been, if I had not cruelly +sent her from me." + +When the old shepherd heard that the King had lost a baby daughter, who +had been left upon the coast of Bohemia, he felt sure that Perdita, the +child he had reared, must be the King's daughter, and when he told +his tale and showed the jewels and the paper, the King perceived that +Perdita was indeed his long-lost child. He welcomed her with joy, and +rewarded the good shepherd. + +Polixenes had hastened after his son to prevent his marriage with +Perdita, but when he found that she was the daughter of his old friend, +he was only too glad to give his consent. + +Yet Leontes could not be happy. He remembered how his fair Queen, +who should have been at his side to share his joy in his daughter's +happiness, was dead through his unkindness, and he could say nothing for +a long time but-- + +"Oh, thy mother! thy mother!" and ask forgiveness of the King of +Bohemia, and then kiss his daughter again, and then the Prince Florizel, +and then thank the old shepherd for all his goodness. + +Then Paulina, who had been high all these years in the King's favor, +because of her kindness to the dead Queen Hermione, said--"I have a +statue made in the likeness of the dead Queen, a piece many years in +doing, and performed by the rare Italian master, Giulio Romano. I keep +it in a private house apart, and there, ever since you lost your Queen, +I have gone twice or thrice a day. Will it please your Majesty to go and +see the statue?" + +So Leontes and Polixenes, and Florizel and Perdita, with Camillo and +their attendants, went to Paulina's house where there was a heavy purple +curtain screening off an alcove; and Paulina, with her hand on the +curtain, said-- + +"She was peerless when she was alive, and I do believe that her dead +likeness excels whatever yet you have looked upon, or that the hand +of man hath done. Therefore I keep it lonely, apart. But here it +is--behold, and say, 'tis well." + +And with that she drew back the curtain and showed them the statue. The +King gazed and gazed on the beautiful statue of his dead wife, but said +nothing. + +"I like your silence," said Paulina; "it the more shows off your wonder. +But speak, is it not like her?" + +"It is almost herself," said the King, "and yet, Paulina, Hermione was +not so much wrinkled, nothing so old as this seems." + +"Oh, not by much," said Polixenes. + +"Al," said Paulina, "that is the cleverness of the carver, who shows her +to us as she would have been had she lived till now." + +And still Leontes looked at the statue and could not take his eyes away. + +"If I had known," said Paulina, "that this poor image would so have +stirred your grief, and love, I would not have shown it to you." + +But he only answered, "Do not draw the curtain." + +"No, you must not look any longer," said Paulina, "or you will think it +moves." + +"Let be! let be!" said the King. "Would you not think it breathed?" + +"I will draw the curtain," said Paulina; "you will think it lives +presently." + +"Ah, sweet Paulina," said Leontes, "make me to think so twenty years +together." + +"If you can bear it," said Paulina, "I can make the statue move, make +it come down and take you by the hand. Only you would think it was by +wicked magic." + +"Whatever you can make her do, I am content to look on," said the King. + +And then, all folks there admiring and beholding, the statue moved from +its pedestal, and came down the steps and put its arms round the King's +neck, and he held her face and kissed her many times, for this was +no statue, but the real living Queen Hermione herself. She had lived +hidden, by Paulina's kindness, all these years, and would not discover +herself to her husband, though she knew he had repented, because she +could not quite forgive him till she knew what had become of her little +baby. + +Now that Perdita was found, she forgave her husband everything, and it +was like a new and beautiful marriage to them, to be together once more. + +Florizel and Perdita were married and lived long and happily. + +To Leontes his many years of suffering were well paid for in the moment +when, after long grief and pain, he felt the arms of his true love +around him once again. + + + + +KING LEAR + + + +King Lear was old and tired. He was aweary of the business of his +kingdom, and wished only to end his days quietly near his three +daughters. Two of his daughters were married to the Dukes of Albany +and Cornwall; and the Duke of Burgundy and the King of France were both +suitors for the hand of Cordelia, his youngest daughter. + +Lear called his three daughters together, and told them that he proposed +to divide his kingdom between them. "But first," said he, "I should like +to know much you love me." + +Goneril, who was really a very wicked woman, and did not love her father +at all, said she loved him more than words could say; she loved him +dearer than eyesight, space or liberty, more than life, grace, health, +beauty, and honor. + +"I love you as much as my sister and more," professed Regan, "since I +care for nothing but my father's love." + +Lear was very much pleased with Regan's professions, and turned to his +youngest daughter, Cordelia. "Now, our joy, though last not least," he +said, "the best part of my kingdom have I kept for you. What can you +say?" + +"Nothing, my lord," answered Cordelia. + +"Nothing can come of nothing. Speak again," said the King. + +And Cordelia answered, "I love your Majesty according to my duty--no +more, no less." + +And this she said, because she was disgusted with the way in which her +sisters professed love, when really they had not even a right sense of +duty to their old father. + +"I am your daughter," she went on, "and you have brought me up and loved +me, and I return you those duties back as are right and fit, obey you, +love you, and most honor you." + +Lear, who loved Cordelia best, had wished her to make more extravagant +professions of love than her sisters. "Go," he said, "be for ever a +stranger to my heart and me." + +The Earl of Kent, one of Lear's favorite courtiers and captains, tried +to say a word for Cordelia's sake, but Lear would not listen. He divided +the kingdom between Goneril and Regan, and told them that he should only +keep a hundred knights at arms, and would live with his daughters by +turns. + +When the Duke of Burgundy knew that Cordelia would have no share of the +kingdom, he gave up his courtship of her. But the King of France was +wiser, and said, "Thy dowerless daughter, King, is Queen of us--of ours, +and our fair France." + +"Take her, take her," said the King; "for I will never see that face of +hers again." + +So Cordelia became Queen of France, and the Earl of Kent, for having +ventured to take her part, was banished from the kingdom. The King now +went to stay with his daughter Goneril, who had got everything from her +father that he had to give, and now began to grudge even the hundred +knights that he had reserved for himself. She was harsh and undutiful +to him, and her servants either refused to obey his orders or pretended +that they did not hear them. + +Now the Earl of Kent, when he was banished, made as though he would +go into another country, but instead he came back in the disguise of +a servingman and took service with the King. The King had now two +friends--the Earl of Kent, whom he only knew as his servant, and his +Fool, who was faithful to him. Goneril told her father plainly that his +knights only served to fill her Court with riot and feasting; and so she +begged him only to keep a few old men about him such as himself. + +"My train are men who know all parts of duty," said Lear. "Goneril, I +will not trouble you further--yet I have left another daughter." + +And his horses being saddled, he set out with his followers for the +castle of Regan. But she, who had formerly outdone her sister in +professions of attachment to the King, now seemed to outdo her in +undutiful conduct, saying that fifty knights were too many to wait on +him, and Goneril (who had hurried thither to prevent Regan showing any +kindness to the old King) said five were too many, since her servants +could wait on him. + +Then when Lear saw that what they really wanted was to drive him away, +he left them. It was a wild and stormy night, and he wandered about the +heath half mad with misery, and with no companion but the poor Fool. +But presently his servant, the good Earl of Kent, met him, and at last +persuaded him to lie down in a wretched little hovel. At daybreak the +Earl of Kent removed his royal master to Dover, and hurried to the Court +of France to tell Cordelia what had happened. + +Cordelia's husband gave her an army and with it she landed at Dover. +Here she found poor King Lear, wandering about the fields, wearing a +crown of nettles and weeds. They brought him back and fed and clothed +him, and Cordelia came to him and kissed him. + +"You must bear with me," said Lear; "forget and forgive. I am old and +foolish." + +And now he knew at last which of his children it was that had loved him +best, and who was worthy of his love. + +Goneril and Regan joined their armies to fight Cordelia's army, and were +successful; and Cordelia and her father were thrown into prison. Then +Goneril's husband, the Duke of Albany, who was a good man, and had not +known how wicked his wife was, heard the truth of the whole story; and +when Goneril found that her husband knew her for the wicked woman she +was, she killed herself, having a little time before given a deadly +poison to her sister, Regan, out of a spirit of jealousy. + +But they had arranged that Cordelia should be hanged in prison, and +though the Duke of Albany sent messengers at once, it was too late. The +old King came staggering into the tent of the Duke of Albany, carrying +the body of his dear daughter Cordelia, in his arms. + +And soon after, with words of love for her upon his lips, he fell with +her still in his arms, and died. + + + + +TWELFTH NIGHT + + + +Orsino, the Duke of Illyria, was deeply in love with a beautiful +Countess named Olivia. Yet was all his love in vain, for she disdained +his suit; and when her brother died, she sent back a messenger from the +Duke, bidding him tell his master that for seven years she would not +let the very air behold her face, but that, like a nun, she would walk +veiled; and all this for the sake of a dead brother's love, which she +would keep fresh and lasting in her sad remembrance. + +The Duke longed for someone to whom he could tell his sorrow, and repeat +over and over again the story of his love. And chance brought him such a +companion. For about this time a goodly ship was wrecked on the Illyrian +coast, and among those who reached land in safety were the captain and +a fair young maid, named Viola. But she was little grateful for being +rescued from the perils of the sea, since she feared that her twin +brother was drowned, Sebastian, as dear to her as the heart in her +bosom, and so like her that, but for the difference in their manner of +dress, one could hardly be told from the other. The captain, for her +comfort, told her that he had seen her brother bind himself "to a strong +mast that lived upon the sea," and that thus there was hope that he +might be saved. + +Viola now asked in whose country she was, and learning that the young +Duke Orsino ruled there, and was as noble in his nature as in his name, +she decided to disguise herself in male attire, and seek for employment +with him as a page. + +In this she succeeded, and now from day to day she had to listen to the +story of Orsino's love. At first she sympathized very truly with him, +but soon her sympathy grew to love. At last it occurred to Orsino that +his hopeless love-suit might prosper better if he sent this pretty lad +to woo Olivia for him. Viola unwillingly went on this errand, but when +she came to the house, Malvolio, Olivia's steward, a vain, officious +man, sick, as his mistress told him, of self-love, forbade the messenger +admittance. + +Viola, however (who was now called Cesario), refused to take any denial, +and vowed to have speech with the Countess. Olivia, hearing how her +instructions were defied and curious to see this daring youth, said, +"We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy." + +When Viola was admitted to her presence and the servants had been sent +away, she listened patiently to the reproaches which this bold messenger +from the Duke poured upon her, and listening she fell in love with the +supposed Cesario; and when Cesario had gone, Olivia longed to send some +love-token after him. So, calling Malvolio, she bade him follow the boy. + +"He left this ring behind him," she said, taking one from her finger. +"Tell him I will none of it." + +Malvolio did as he was bid, and then Viola, who of course knew perfectly +well that she had left no ring behind her, saw with a woman's quickness +that Olivia loved her. Then she went back to the Duke, very sad at heart +for her lover, and for Olivia, and for herself. + +It was but cold comfort she could give Orsino, who now sought to ease +the pangs of despised love by listening to sweet music, while Cesario +stood by his side. + +"Ah," said the Duke to his page that night, "you too have been in love." + +"A little," answered Viola. + +"What kind of woman is it?" he asked. + +"Of your complexion," she answered. + +"What years, i' faith?" was his next question. + +To this came the pretty answer, "About your years, my lord." + +"Too old, by Heaven!" cried the Duke. "Let still the woman take an elder +than herself." + +And Viola very meekly said, "I think it well, my lord." + +By and by Orsino begged Cesario once more to visit Olivia and to plead +his love-suit. But she, thinking to dissuade him, said-- + +"If some lady loved you as you love Olivia?" + +"Ah! that cannot be," said the Duke. + +"But I know," Viola went on, "what love woman may have for a man. My +father had a daughter loved a man, as it might be," she added blushing, +"perhaps, were I a woman, I should love your lordship." + +"And what is her history?" he asked. + +"A blank, my lord," Viola answered. "She never told her love, but let +concealment like a worm in the bud feed on her damask cheek: she +pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy she sat, like +Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?" + +"But died thy sister of her love, my boy?" the Duke asked; and Viola, +who had all the time been telling her own love for him in this pretty +fashion, said-- + +"I am all the daughters my father has and all the brothers-- Sir, shall +I go to the lady?" + +"To her in haste," said the Duke, at once forgetting all about the +story, "and give her this jewel." + +So Viola went, and this time poor Olivia was unable to hide her love, +and openly confessed it with such passionate truth, that Viola left her +hastily, saying-- + +"Nevermore will I deplore my master's tears to you." + +But in vowing this, Viola did not know the tender pity she would feel +for other's suffering. So when Olivia, in the violence of her love, +sent a messenger, praying Cesario to visit her once more, Cesario had no +heart to refuse the request. + +But the favors which Olivia bestowed upon this mere page aroused the +jealousy of Sir Andrew Aguecheek, a foolish, rejected lover of hers, who +at that time was staying at her house with her merry old uncle Sir Toby. +This same Sir Toby dearly loved a practical joke, and knowing Sir Andrew +to be an arrant coward, he thought that if he could bring off a duel +between him and Cesario, there would be rare sport indeed. So he induced +Sir Andrew to send a challenge, which he himself took to Cesario. The +poor page, in great terror, said-- + +"I will return again to the house, I am no fighter." + +"Back you shall not to the house," said Sir Toby, "unless you fight me +first." + +And as he looked a very fierce old gentleman, Viola thought it best to +await Sir Andrew's coming; and when he at last made his appearance, in +a great fright, if the truth had been known, she tremblingly drew her +sword, and Sir Andrew in like fear followed her example. Happily for +them both, at this moment some officers of the Court came on the scene, +and stopped the intended duel. Viola gladly made off with what speed she +might, while Sir Toby called after her-- + +"A very paltry boy, and more a coward than a hare!" + +Now, while these things were happening, Sebastian had escaped all +the dangers of the deep, and had landed safely in Illyria, where he +determined to make his way to the Duke's Court. On his way thither he +passed Olivia's house just as Viola had left it in such a hurry, and +whom should he meet but Sir Andrew and Sir Toby. Sir Andrew, mistaking +Sebastian for the cowardly Cesario, took his courage in both hands, and +walking up to him struck him, saying, "There's for you." + +"Why, there's for you; and there, and there!" said Sebastian, bitting +back a great deal harder, and again and again, till Sir Toby came to +the rescue of his friend. Sebastian, however, tore himself free from Sir +Toby's clutches, and drawing his sword would have fought them both, but +that Olivia herself, having heard of the quarrel, came running in, and +with many reproaches sent Sir Toby and his friend away. Then turning +to Sebastian, whom she too thought to be Cesario, she besought him with +many a pretty speech to come into the house with her. + +Sebastian, half dazed and all delighted with her beauty and grace, +readily consented, and that very day, so great was Olivia's baste, +they were married before she had discovered that he was not Cesario, or +Sebastian was quite certain whether or not he was in a dream. + +Meanwhile Orsino, hearing how ill Cesario sped with Olivia, visited her +himself, taking Cesario with him. Olivia met them both before her +door, and seeing, as she thought, her husband there, reproached him for +leaving her, while to the Duke she said that his suit was as fat and +wholesome to her as howling after music. + +"Still so cruel?" said Orsino. + +"Still so constant," she answered. + +Then Orsino's anger growing to cruelty, he vowed that, to be revenged on +her, he would kill Cesario, whom he knew she loved. "Come, boy," he said +to the page. + +And Viola, following him as he moved away, said, "I, to do you rest, a +thousand deaths would die." + +A great fear took hold on Olivia, and she cried aloud, "Cesario, +husband, stay!" + +"Her husband?" asked the Duke angrily. + +"No, my lord, not I," said Viola. + +"Call forth the holy father," cried Olivia. + +And the priest who had married Sebastian and Olivia, coming in, declared +Cesario to be the bridegroom. + +"O thou dissembling cub!" the Duke exclaimed. "Farewell, and take her, +but go where thou and I henceforth may never meet." + +At this moment Sir Andrew came up with bleeding crown, complaining that +Cesario had broken his head, and Sir Toby's as well. + +"I never hurt you," said Viola, very positively; "you drew your sword on +me, but I bespoke you fair, and hurt you not." + +Yet, for all her protesting, no one there believed her; but all their +thoughts were on a sudden changed to wonder, when Sebastian came in. + +"I am sorry, madam," he said to his wife, "I have hurt your kinsman. +Pardon me, sweet, even for the vows we made each other so late ago." + +"One face, one voice, one habit, and two persons!" cried the Duke, +looking first at Viola, and then at Sebastian. + +"An apple cleft in two," said one who knew Sebastian, "is not more twin +than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian?" + +"I never had a brother," said Sebastian. "I had a sister, whom the blind +waves and surges have devoured." "Were you a woman," he said to Viola, +"I should let my tears fall upon your cheek, and say, 'Thrice welcome, +drowned Viola!'" + +Then Viola, rejoicing to see her dear brother alive, confessed that she +was indeed his sister, Viola. As she spoke, Orsino felt the pity that is +akin to love. + +"Boy," he said, "thou hast said to me a thousand times thou never +shouldst love woman like to me." + +"And all those sayings will I overswear," Viola replied, "and all those +swearings keep true." + +"Give me thy hand," Orsino cried in gladness. "Thou shalt be my wife, +and my fancy's queen." + +Thus was the gentle Viola made happy, while Olivia found in Sebastian +a constant lover, and a good husband, and he in her a true and loving +wife. + + + + +MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING + + + +In Sicily is a town called Messina, which is the scene of a curious +storm in a teacup that raged several hundred years ago. + +It began with sunshine. Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, in Spain, had +gained so complete a victory over his foes that the very land whence +they came is forgotten. Feeling happy and playful after the fatigues of +war, Don Pedro came for a holiday to Messina, and in his suite were his +stepbrother Don John and two young Italian lords, Benedick and Claudio. + +Benedick was a merry chatterbox, who had determined to live a bachelor. +Claudio, on the other hand, no sooner arrived at Messina than he fell in +love with Hero, the daughter of Leonato, Governor of Messina. + +One July day, a perfumer called Borachio was burning dried lavender in +a musty room in Leonato's house, when the sound of conversation floated +through the open window. + +"Give me your candid opinion of Hero," Claudio, asked, and Borachio +settled himself for comfortable listening. + +"Too short and brown for praise," was Benedick's reply; "but alter her +color or height, and you spoil her." + +"In my eyes she is the sweetest of women," said Claudio. + +"Not in mine," retorted Benedick, "and I have no need for glasses. She +is like the last day of December compared with the first of May if you +set her beside her cousin. Unfortunately, the Lady Beatrice is a fury." + +Beatrice was Leonato's niece. She amused herself by saying witty and +severe things about Benedick, who called her Dear Lady Disdain. She +was wont to say that she was born under a dancing star, and could not +therefore be dull. + +Claudio and Benedick were still talking when Don Pedro came up and said +good-humoredly, "Well, gentlemen, what's the secret?" + +"I am longing," answered Benedick, "for your Grace to command me to +tell." + +"I charge you, then, on your allegiance to tell me," said Don Pedro, +falling in with his humor. + +"I can be as dumb as a mute," apologized Benedick to Claudio, "but his +Grace commands my speech." To Don Pedro he said, "Claudio is in love +with Hero, Leonato's short daughter." + +Don Pedro was pleased, for he admired Hero and was fond of Claudio. When +Benedick had departed, he said to Claudio, "Be steadfast in your love +for Hero, and I will help you to win her. To-night her father gives a +masquerade, and I will pretend I am Claudio, and tell her how Claudio +loves her, and if she be pleased, I will go to her father and ask his +consent to your union." + +Most men like to do their own wooing, but if you fall in love with a +Governor's only daughter, you are fortunate if you can trust a prince to +plead for you. + +Claudio then was fortunate, but he was unfortunate as well, for he +had an enemy who was outwardly a friend. This enemy was Don Pedro's +stepbrother Don John, who was jealous of Claudio because Don Pedro +preferred him to Don John. + +It was to Don John that Borachio came with the interesting conversation +which he had overheard. + +"I shall have some fun at that masquerade myself," said Don John when +Borachio ceased speaking. + +On the night of the masquerade, Don Pedro, masked and pretending he was +Claudio, asked Hero if he might walk with her. + +They moved away together, and Don John went up to Claudio and said, +"Signor Benedick, I believe?" "The same," fibbed Claudio. + +"I should be much obliged then," said Don John, "if you would use your +influence with my brother to cure him of his love for Hero. She is +beneath him in rank." + +"How do you know he loves her?" inquired Claudio. + +"I heard him swear his affection," was the reply, and Borachio chimed in +with, "So did I too." + +Claudio was then left to himself, and his thought was that his Prince +had betrayed him. "Farewell, Hero," he muttered; "I was a fool to trust +to an agent." + +Meanwhile Beatrice and Benedick (who was masked) were having a brisk +exchange of opinions. + +"Did Benedick ever make you laugh?" asked she. + +"Who is Benedick?" he inquired. + +"A Prince's jester," replied Beatrice, and she spoke so sharply that "I +would not marry her," he declared afterwards, "if her estate were the +Garden of Eden." + +But the principal speaker at the masquerade was neither Beatrice nor +Benedick. It was Don Pedro, who carried out his plan to the letter, and +brought the light back to Claudio's face in a twinkling, by appearing +before him with Leonato and Hero, and saying, "Claudio, when would you +like to go to church?" + +"To-morrow," was the prompt answer. "Time goes on crutches till I marry +Hero." + +"Give her a week, my dear son," said Leonato, and Claudio's heart +thumped with joy. + +"And now," said the amiable Don Pedro, "we must find a wife for Signor +Benedick. It is a task for Hercules." + +"I will help you," said Leonato, "if I have to sit up ten nights." + +Then Hero spoke. "I will do what I can, my lord, to find a good husband +for Beatrice." + +Thus, with happy laughter, ended the masquerade which had given Claudio +a lesson for nothing. + +Borachio cheered up Don John by laying a plan before him with which he +was confident he could persuade both Claudio and Don Pedro that Hero was +a fickle girl who had two strings to her bow. Don John agreed to this +plan of hate. + +Don Pedro, on the other hand, had devised a cunning plan of love. +"If," he said to Leonato, "we pretend, when Beatrice is near enough to +overhear us, that Benedick is pining for her love, she will pity him, +see his good qualities, and love him. And if, when Benedick thinks we +don't know he is listening, we say how sad it is that the beautiful +Beatrice should be in love with a heartless scoffer like Benedick, he +will certainly be on his knees before her in a week or less." + +So one day, when Benedick was reading in a summer-house, Claudio sat +down outside it with Leonato, and said, "Your daughter told me something +about a letter she wrote." + +"Letter!" exclaimed Leonato. "She will get up twenty times in the night +and write goodness knows what. But once Hero peeped, and saw the words +'Benedick and Beatrice' on the sheet, and then Beatrice tore it up." + +"Hero told me," said Claudio, "that she cried, 'O sweet Benedick!'" + +Benedick was touched to the core by this improbable story, which he was +vain enough to believe. "She is fair and good," he said to himself. +"I must not seem proud. I feel that I love her. People will laugh, of +course; but their paper bullets will do me no harm." + +At this moment Beatrice came to the summerhouse, and said, "Against my +will, I have come to tell you that dinner is ready." + +"Fair Beatrice, I thank you," said Benedick. + +"I took no more pains to come than you take pains to thank me," was the +rejoinder, intended to freeze him. + +But it did not freeze him. It warmed him. The meaning he squeezed out of +her rude speech was that she was delighted to come to him. + +Hero, who had undertaken the task of melting the heart of Beatrice, took +no trouble to seek an occasion. She simply said to her maid Margaret one +day, "Run into the parlor and whisper to Beatrice that Ursula and I are +talking about her in the orchard." + +Having said this, she felt as sure that Beatrice would overhear what was +meant for her ears as if she had made an appointment with her cousin. + +In the orchard was a bower, screened from the sun by honeysuckles, and +Beatrice entered it a few minutes after Margaret had gone on her errand. + +"But are you sure," asked Ursula, who was one of Hero's attendants, +"that Benedick loves Beatrice so devotedly?" + +"So say the Prince and my betrothed," replied Hero, "and they wished me +to tell her, but I said, 'No! Let Benedick get over it.'" + +"Why did you say that?" + +"Because Beatrice is unbearably proud. Her eyes sparkle with disdain and +scorn. She is too conceited to love. I should not like to see her making +game of poor Benedick's love. I would rather see Benedick waste away +like a covered fire." + +"I don't agree with you," said Ursula. "I think your cousin is too +clear-sighted not to see the merits of Benedick." "He is the one man in +Italy, except Claudio," said Hero. + +The talkers then left the orchard, and Beatrice, excited and tender, +stepped out of the summer-house, saying to herself, "Poor dear Benedick, +be true to me, and your love shall tame this wild heart of mine." + +We now return to the plan of hate. + +The night before the day fixed for Claudio's wedding, Don John entered +a room in which Don Pedro and Claudio were conversing, and asked Claudio +if he intended to be married to-morrow. + +"You know he does!" said Don Pedro. + +"He may know differently," said Don John, "when he has seen what I will +show him if he will follow me." + +They followed him into the garden; and they saw a lady leaning out of +Hero's window talking love to Borachio. + +Claudio thought the lady was Hero, and said, "I will shame her for it +to-morrow!" Don Pedro thought she was Hero, too; but she was not Hero; +she was Margaret. + +Don John chuckled noiselessly when Claudio and Don Pedro quitted the +garden; he gave Borachio a purse containing a thousand ducats. + +The money made Borachio feel very gay, and when he was walking in the +street with his friend Conrade, he boasted of his wealth and the giver, +and told what he had done. + +A watchman overheard them, and thought that a man who had been paid a +thousand ducats for villainy was worth taking in charge. He therefore +arrested Borachio and Conrade, who spent the rest of the night in +prison. + +Before noon of the next day half the aristocrats in Messina were at +church. Hero thought it was her wedding day, and she was there in her +wedding dress, no cloud on her pretty face or in her frank and shining +eyes. + +The priest was Friar Francis. + +Turning to Claudio, he said, "You come hither, my lord, to marry this +lady?" "No!" contradicted Claudio. + +Leonato thought he was quibbling over grammar. "You should have said, +Friar," said he, "'You come to be married to her.'" + +Friar Francis turned to Hero. "Lady," he said, "you come hither to be +married to this Count?" "I do," replied Hero. + +"If either of you know any impediment to this marriage, I charge you to +utter it," said the Friar. + +"Do you know of any, Hero?" asked Claudio. "None," said she. + +"Know you of any, Count?" demanded the Friar. "I dare reply for him, +'None,'" said Leonato. + +Claudio exclaimed bitterly, "O! what will not men dare say! Father," +he continued, "will you give me your daughter?" "As freely," replied +Leonato, "as God gave her to me." + +"And what can I give you," asked Claudio, "which is worthy of this +gift?" "Nothing," said Don Pedro, "unless you give the gift back to the +giver." + +"Sweet Prince, you teach me," said Claudio. "There, Leonato, take her +back." + +These brutal words were followed by others which flew from Claudio, Don +Pedro and Don John. + +The church seemed no longer sacred. Hero took her own part as long as +she could, then she swooned. All her persecutors left the church, except +her father, who was befooled by the accusations against her, and cried, +"Hence from her! Let her die!" + +But Friar Francis saw Hero blameless with his clear eyes that probed the +soul. "She is innocent," he said; "a thousand signs have told me so." + +Hero revived under his kind gaze. Her father, flurried and angry, knew +not what to think, and the Friar said, "They have left her as one dead +with shame. Let us pretend that she is dead until the truth is declared, +and slander turns to remorse." + +"The Friar advises well," said Benedick. Then Hero was led away into a +retreat, and Beatrice and Benedick remained alone in the church. + +Benedick knew she had been weeping bitterly and long. "Surely I do +believe your fair cousin is wronged," he said. She still wept. + +"Is it not strange," asked Benedick, gently, "that I love nothing in the +world as well as you?" + +"It were as possible for me to say I loved nothing as well as you," said +Beatrice, "but I do not say it. I am sorry for my cousin." + +"Tell me what to do for her," said Benedick. "Kill Claudio." + +"Ha! not for the wide world," said Benedick. "Your refusal kills me," +said Beatrice. "Farewell." + +"Enough! I will challenge him," cried Benedick. + +During this scene Borachio and Conrade were in prison. There they were +examined by a constable called Dogberry. + +The watchman gave evidence to the effect that Borachio had said that he +had received a thousand ducats for conspiring against Hero. + +Leonato was not present at this examination, but he was nevertheless now +thoroughly convinced Of Hero's innocence. He played the part of bereaved +father very well, and when Don Pedro and Claudio called on him in a +friendly way, he said to the Italian, "You have slandered my child to +death, and I challenge you to combat." + +"I cannot fight an old man," said Claudio. + +"You could kill a girl," sneered Leonato, and Claudio crimsoned. + +Hot words grew from hot words, and both Don Pedro and Claudio were +feeling scorched when Leonato left the room and Benedick entered. + +"The old man," said Claudio, "was like to have snapped my nose off." + +"You are a villain!" said Benedick, shortly. "Fight me when and with +what weapon you please, or I call you a coward." + +Claudio was astounded, but said, "I'll meet you. Nobody shall say I +can't carve a calf's head." + +Benedick smiled, and as it was time for Don Pedro to receive officials, +the Prince sat down in a chair of state and prepared his mind for +justice. + +The door soon opened to admit Dogberry and his prisoners. + +"What offence," said Don Pedro, "are these men charged with?" + +Borachio thought the moment a happy one for making a clean breast of it. +He laid the whole blame on Don John, who had disappeared. "The lady Hero +being dead," he said, "I desire nothing but the reward of a murderer." + +Claudio heard with anguish and deep repentance. + +Upon the re-entrance of Leonato be said to him, "This slave makes clear +your daughter's innocence. Choose your revenge. + +"Leonato," said Don Pedro, humbly, "I am ready for any penance you may +impose." + +"I ask you both, then," said Leonato, "to proclaim my daughter's +innocence, and to honor her tomb by singing her praise before it. As for +you, Claudio, I have this to say: my brother has a daughter so like Hero +that she might be a copy of her. Marry her, and my vengeful feelings +die." + +"Noble sir," said Claudio, "I am yours." Claudio then went to his room +and composed a solemn song. Going to the church with Don Pedro and his +attendants, he sang it before the monument of Leonato's family. When he +had ended he said, "Good night, Hero. Yearly will I do this." + +He then gravely, as became a gentleman whose heart was Hero's, made +ready to marry a girl whom he did not love. He was told to meet her in +Leonato's house, and was faithful to his appointment. + +He was shown into a room where Antonio (Leonato's brother) and several +masked ladies entered after him. Friar Francis, Leonato, and Benedick +were present. + +Antonio led one of the ladies towards Claudio. + +"Sweet," said the young man, "let me see your face." + +"Swear first to marry her," said Leonato. + +"Give me your hand," said Claudio to the lady; "before this holy friar I +swear to marry you if you will be my wife." + +"Alive I was your wife," said the lady, as she drew off her mask. + +"Another Hero!" exclaimed Claudio. + +"Hero died," explained Leonato, "only while slander lived." + +The Friar was then going to marry the reconciled pair, but Benedick +interrupted him with, "Softly, Friar; which of these ladies is +Beatrice?" + +Hereat Beatrice unmasked, and Benedick said, "You love me, don't you?" + +"Only moderately," was the reply. "Do you love me?" + +"Moderately," answered Benedick. + +"I was told you were well-nigh dead for me," remarked Beatrice. + +"Of you I was told the same," said Benedick. + +"Here's your own hand in evidence of your love," said Claudio, producing +a feeble sonnet which Benedick had written to his sweetheart. "And +here," said Hero, "is a tribute to Benedick, which I picked out of the +pocket of Beatrice." + +"A miracle!" exclaimed Benedick. "Our hands are against our hearts! +Come, I will marry you, Beatrice." + +"You shall be my husband to save your life," was the rejoinder. + +Benedick kissed her on the mouth; and the Friar married them after he +had married Claudio and Hero. + +"How is Benedick the married man?" asked Don Pedro. + +"Too happy to be made unhappy," replied Benedick. "Crack what jokes you +will. As for you, Claudio, I had hoped to run you through the body, but +as you are now my kinsman, live whole and love my cousin." + +"My cudgel was in love with you, Benedick, until to-day," said Claudio; +but, "Come, come, let's dance," said Benedick. + +And dance they did. Not even the news of the capture of Don John was +able to stop the flying feet of the happy lovers, for revenge is not +sweet against an evil man who has failed to do harm. + + + + +ROMEO AND JULIET + + + +Once upon a time there lived in Verona two great families named Montagu +and Capulet. They were both rich, and I suppose they were as sensible, +in most things, as other rich people. But in one thing they were +extremely silly. There was an old, old quarrel between the two families, +and instead of making it up like reasonable folks, they made a sort of +pet of their quarrel, and would not let it die out. So that a Montagu +wouldn't speak to a Capulet if he met one in the street--nor a Capulet +to a Montagu--or if they did speak, it was to say rude and unpleasant +things, which often ended in a fight. And their relations and +servants were just as foolish, so that street fights and duels and +uncomfortablenesses of that kind were always growing out of the +Montagu-and-Capulet quarrel. + +Now Lord Capulet, the head of that family, gave a party-- a grand supper +and a dance--and he was so hospitable that he said anyone might come to +it except (of course) the Montagues. But there was a young Montagu named +Romeo, who very much wanted to be there, because Rosaline, the lady he +loved, had been asked. This lady had never been at all kind to him, and +he had no reason to love her; but the fact was that he wanted to love +somebody, and as he hadn't seen the right lady, he was obliged to love +the wrong one. So to the Capulet's grand party he came, with his friends +Mercutio and Benvolio. + +Old Capulet welcomed him and his two friends very kindly--and young +Romeo moved about among the crowd of courtly folk dressed in their +velvets and satins, the men with jeweled sword hilts and collars, and +the ladies with brilliant gems on breast and arms, and stones of price +set in their bright girdles. Romeo was in his best too, and though he +wore a black mask over his eyes and nose, everyone could see by his +mouth and his hair, and the way he held his head, that he was twelve +times handsomer than anyone else in the room. + +Presently amid the dancers he saw a lady so beautiful and so lovable +that from that moment he never again gave one thought to that Rosaline +whom he had thought he loved. And he looked at this other fair lady, as +she moved in the dance in her white satin and pearls, and all the world +seemed vain and worthless to him compared with her. And he was saying +this, or something like it, when Tybalt, Lady Capulet's nephew, hearing +his voice, knew him to be Romeo. Tybalt, being very angry, went at +once to his uncle, and told him how a Montagu had come uninvited to the +feast; but old Capulet was too fine a gentleman to be discourteous to +any man under his own roof, and he bade Tybalt be quiet. But this young +man only waited for a chance to quarrel with Romeo. + +In the meantime Romeo made his way to the fair lady, and told her in +sweet words that he loved her, and kissed her. Just then her mother sent +for her, and then Romeo found out that the lady on whom he had set his +heart's hopes was Juliet, the daughter of Lord Capulet, his sworn foe. +So he went away, sorrowing indeed, but loving her none the less. + +Then Juliet said to her nurse: + +"Who is that gentleman that would not dance?" + +"His name is Romeo, and a Montagu, the only son of your great enemy," +answered the nurse. + +Then Juliet went to her room, and looked out of her window, over the +beautiful green-grey garden, where the moon was shining. And Romeo was +hidden in that garden among the trees--because he could not bear to go +right away without trying to see her again. So she--not knowing him to +be there--spoke her secret thought aloud, and told the quiet garden how +she loved Romeo. + +And Romeo heard and was glad beyond measure. Hidden below, he looked +up and saw her fair face in the moonlight, framed in the blossoming +creepers that grew round her window, and as he looked and listened, he +felt as though he had been carried away in a dream, and set down by some +magician in that beautiful and enchanted garden. + +"Ah--why are you called Romeo?" said Juliet. "Since I love you, what +does it matter what you are called?" + +"Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized--henceforth I never will be +Romeo," he cried, stepping into the full white moonlight from the shade +of the cypresses and oleanders that had hidden him. + +She was frightened at first, but when she saw that it was Romeo himself, +and no stranger, she too was glad, and, he standing in the garden below +and she leaning from the window, they spoke long together, each one +trying to find the sweetest words in the world, to make that pleasant +talk that lovers use. And the tale of all they said, and the sweet music +their voices made together, is all set down in a golden book, where you +children may read it for yourselves some day. + +And the time passed so quickly, as it does for folk who love each other +and are together, that when the time came to part, it seemed as though +they had met but that moment-- and indeed they hardly knew how to part. + +"I will send to you to-morrow," said Juliet. + +And so at last, with lingering and longing, they said good-bye. + +Juliet went into her room, and a dark curtain bid her bright window. +Romeo went away through the still and dewy garden like a man in a dream. + +The next morning, very early, Romeo went to Friar Laurence, a priest, +and, telling him all the story, begged him to marry him to Juliet +without delay. And this, after some talk, the priest consented to do. + +So when Juliet sent her old nurse to Romeo that day to know what he +purposed to do, the old woman took back a a message that all was well, +and all things ready for the marriage of Juliet and Romeo on the next +morning. + +The young lovers were afraid to ask their parents' consent to their +marriage, as young people should do, because of this foolish old quarrel +between the Capulets and the Montagues. + +And Friar Laurence was willing to help the young lovers secretly, +because he thought that when they were once married their parents +might soon be told, and that the match might put a happy end to the old +quarrel. + +So the next morning early, Romeo and Juliet were married at Friar +Laurence's cell, and parted with tears and kisses. And Romeo promised to +come into the garden that evening, and the nurse got ready a rope-ladder +to let down from the window, so that Romeo could climb up and talk to +his dear wife quietly and alone. + +But that very day a dreadful thing happened. + +Tybalt, the young man who had been so vexed at Romeo's going to the +Capulet's feast, met him and his two friends, Mercutio and Benvolio, in +the street, called Romeo a villain, and asked him to fight. Romeo had no +wish to fight with Juliet's cousin, but Mercutio drew his sword, and +he and Tybalt fought. And Mercutio was killed. When Romeo saw that this +friend was dead, he forgot everything except anger at the man who had +killed him, and he and Tybalt fought till Tybalt fell dead. + +So, on the very day of his wedding, Romeo killed his dear Juliet's +cousin, and was sentenced to be banished. Poor Juliet and her young +husband met that night indeed; he climbed the rope-ladder among the +flowers, and found her window, but their meeting was a sad one, and they +parted with bitter tears and hearts heavy, because they could not know +when they should meet again. + +Now Juliet's father, who, of course, had no idea that she was married, +wished her to wed a gentleman named Paris, and was so angry when she +refused, that she hurried away to ask Friar Laurence what she should do. +He advised her to pretend to consent, and then he said: + +"I will give you a draught that will make you seem to be dead for two +days, and then when they take you to church it will be to bury you, and +not to marry you. They will put you in the vault thinking you are dead, +and before you wake up Romeo and I will be there to take care of you. +Will you do this, or are you afraid?" + +"I will do it; talk not to me of fear!" said Juliet. And she went home +and told her father she would marry Paris. If she had spoken out and +told her father the truth . . . well, then this would have been a +different story. + +Lord Capulet was very much pleased to get his own way, and set about +inviting his friends and getting the wedding feast ready. Everyone +stayed up all night, for there was a great deal to do, and very little +time to do it in. Lord Capulet was anxious to get Juliet married because +he saw she was very unhappy. Of course she was really fretting about her +husband Romeo, but her father thought she was grieving for the death of +her cousin Tybalt, and he thought marriage would give her something else +to think about. + +Early in the morning the nurse came to call Juliet, and to dress her +for her wedding; but she would not wake, and at last the nurse cried out +suddenly-- + +"Alas! alas! help! help! my lady's dead! Oh, well-a-day that ever I was +born!" + +Lady Capulet came running in, and then Lord Capulet, and Lord Paris, the +bridegroom. There lay Juliet cold and white and lifeless, and all their +weeping could not wake her. So it was a burying that day instead of a +marrying. Meantime Friar Laurence had sent a messenger to Mantua with a +letter to Romeo telling him of all these things; and all would have been +well, only the messenger was delayed, and could not go. + +But ill news travels fast. Romeo's servant who knew the secret of the +marriage, but not of Juliet's pretended death, heard of her funeral, and +hurried to Mantua to tell Romeo how his young wife was dead and lying in +the grave. + +"Is it so?" cried Romeo, heart-broken. "Then I will lie by Juliet's side +to-night." + +And he bought himself a poison, and went straight back to Verona. He +hastened to the tomb where Juliet was lying. It was not a grave, but a +vault. He broke open the door, and was just going down the stone steps +that led to the vault where all the dead Capulets lay, when he heard a +voice behind him calling on him to stop. + +It was the Count Paris, who was to have married Juliet that very day. + +"How dare you come here and disturb the dead bodies of the Capulets, you +vile Montagu?" cried Paris. + +Poor Romeo, half mad with sorrow, yet tried to answer gently. + +"You were told," said Paris, "that if you returned to Verona you must +die." + +"I must indeed," said Romeo. "I came here for nothing else. Good, gentle +youth--leave me! Oh, go--before I do you any harm! I love you better +than myself--go--leave me here--" + +Then Paris said, "I defy you, and I arrest you as a felon," and Romeo, +in his anger and despair, drew his sword. They fought, and Paris was +killed. + +As Romeo's sword pierced him, Paris cried-- + +"Oh, I am slain! If thou be merciful, open the tomb, and lay me with +Juliet!" + +And Romeo said, "In faith I will." + +And he carried the dead man into the tomb and laid him by the dear +Juliet's side. Then he kneeled by Juliet and spoke to her, and held +her in his arms, and kissed her cold lips, believing that she was dead, +while all the while she was coming nearer and nearer to the time of her +awakening. Then he drank the poison, and died beside his sweetheart and +wife. + +Now came Friar Laurence when it was too late, and saw all that had +happened--and then poor Juliet woke out of her sleep to find her husband +and her friend both dead beside her. + +The noise of the fight had brought other folks to the place too, and +Friar Laurence, hearing them, ran away, and Juliet was left alone. She +saw the cup that had held the poison, and knew how all had happened, and +since no poison was left for her, she drew her Romeo's dagger and thrust +it through her heart--and so, falling with her head on her Romeo's +breast, she died. And here ends the story of these faithful and most +unhappy lovers. + + * * * * * * * + +And when the old folks knew from Friar Laurence of all that had +befallen, they sorrowed exceedingly, and now, seeing all the mischief +their wicked quarrel had wrought, they repented them of it, and over the +bodies of their dead children they clasped hands at last, in friendship +and forgiveness. + + + + +PERICLES + + + +Pericles, the Prince of Tyre, was unfortunate enough to make an enemy of +Antiochus, the powerful and wicked King of Antioch; and so great was the +danger in which he stood that, on the advice of his trusty counselor, +Lord Helicanus, he determined to travel about the world for a time. He +came to this decision despite the fact that, by the death of his father, +he was now King of Tyre. So he set sail for Tarsus, appointing Helicanus +Regent during his absence. That he did wisely in thus leaving his +kingdom was soon made clear. + +Hardly had he sailed on his voyage, when Lord Thaliard arrived from +Antioch with instructions from his royal master to kill Pericles. The +faithful Helicanus soon discovered the deadly purpose of this wicked +lord, and at once sent messengers to Tarsus to warn the King of the +danger which threatened him. + +The people of Tarsus were in such poverty and distress that Pericles, +feeling that he could find no safe refuge there, put to sea again. But +a dreadful storm overtook the ship in which he was, and the good vessel +was wrecked, while of all on board only Pericles was saved. Bruised +and wet and faint, he was flung upon the cruel rocks on the coast of +Pentapolis, the country of the good King Simonides. Worn out as he was, +he looked for nothing but death, and that speedily. But some fishermen, +coming down to the beach, found him there, and gave him clothes and bade +him be of good cheer. + +"Thou shalt come home with me," said one of them, "and we will have +flesh for holidays, fish for fasting days, and moreo'er, puddings and +flapjacks, and thou shalt be welcome." + +They told him that on the morrow many princes and knights were going +to the King's Court, there to joust and tourney for the love of his +daughter, the beautiful Princess Thaisa. + +"Did but my fortunes equal my desires," said Pericles, "I'd wish to make +one there." + +As he spoke, some of the fishermen came by, drawing their net, and it +dragged heavily, resisting all their efforts, but at last they hauled it +in, to find that it contained a suit of rusty armor; and looking at it, +he blessed Fortune for her kindness, for he saw that it was his own, +which had been given to him by his dead father. He begged the fishermen +to let him have it that he might go to Court and take part in the +tournament, promising that if ever his ill fortunes bettered, he would +reward them well. The fishermen readily consented, and being thus fully +equipped, Pericles set off in his rusty armor to the King's Court. + +In the tournament none bore himself so well as Pericles, and he won the +wreath of victory, which the fair Princess herself placed on his brows. +Then at her father's command she asked him who he was, and whence he +came; and he answered that he was a knight of Tyre, by name Pericles, +but he did not tell her that he was the King of that country, for he +knew that if once his whereabouts became known to Antiochus, his life +would not be worth a pin's purchase. + +Nevertheless Thaisa loved him dearly, and the King was so pleased with +his courage and graceful bearing that he gladly permitted his daughter +to have her own way, when she told him she would marry the stranger +knight or die. + +Thus Pericles became the husband of the fair lady for whose sake he +had striven with the knights who came in all their bravery to joust and +tourney for her love. + +Meanwhile the wicked King Antiochus had died, and the people in Tyre, +hearing no news of their King, urged Lord Helicanus to ascend the vacant +throne. But they could only get him to promise that he would become +their King, if at the end of a year Pericles did not come back. +Moreover, he sent forth messengers far and wide in search of the missing +Pericles. + +Some of these made their way to Pentapolis, and finding their King +there, told him how discontented his people were at his long absence, +and that, Antiochus being dead, there was nothing now to hinder him from +returning to his kingdom. Then Pericles told his wife and father-in-law +who he really was, and they and all the subjects of Simonides greatly +rejoiced to know that the gallant husband of Thaisa was a King in his +own right. So Pericles set sail with his dear wife for his native land. +But once more the sea was cruel to him, for again a dreadful storm broke +out, and while it was at its height, a servant came to tell him that +a little daughter was born to him. This news would have made his heart +glad indeed, but that the servant went on to add that his wife--his +dear, dear Thaisa--was dead. + +While he was praying the gods to be good to his little baby girl, +the sailors came to him, declaring that the dead Queen must be thrown +overboard, for they believed that the storm would never cease so long +as a dead body remained in the vessel. So Thaisa was laid in a big chest +with spices and jewels, and a scroll on which the sorrowful King wrote +these lines: + + "Here I give to understand + (If e'er this coffin drive a-land), + I, King Pericles, have lost + This Queen worth all our mundane cost. + Who finds her, give her burying; + She was the daughter of a King; + Besides this treasure for a fee, + The gods requite his charity!" + +Then the chest was cast into the sea, and the waves taking it, by and +by washed it ashore at Ephesus, where it was found by the servants of a +lord named Cerimon. He at once ordered it to be opened, and when he +saw how lovely Thaisa looked, he doubted if she were dead, and took +immediate steps to restore her. Then a great wonder happened, for she, +who had been thrown into the sea as dead, came back to life. But feeling +sure that she would never see her husband again, Thaisa retired from the +world, and became a priestess of the Goddess Diana. + +While these things were happening, Pericles went on to Tarsus with his +little daughter, whom he called Marina, because she had been born at +sea. Leaving her in the hands of his old friend the Governor of Tarsus, +the King sailed for his own dominions. + +Now Dionyza, the wife of the Governor of Tarsus, was a jealous and +wicked woman, and finding that the young Princess grew up a more +accomplished and charming girl than her own daughter, she determined to +take Marina's life. So when Marina was fourteen, Dionyza ordered one of +her servants to take her away and kill her. This villain would have done +so, but that he was interrupted by some pirates who came in and carried +Marina off to sea with them, and took her to Mitylene, where they sold +her as a slave. Yet such was her goodness, her grace, and her beauty, +that she soon became honored there, and Lysimachus, the young Governor, +fell deep in love with her, and would have married her, but that he +thought she must be of too humble parentage to become the wife of one in +his high position. + +The wicked Dionyza believed, from her servant's report, that Marina was +really dead, and so she put up a monument to her memory, and showed it +to King Pericles, when after long years of absence he came to see +his much-loved child. When he heard that she was dead, his grief was +terrible to see. He set sail once more, and putting on sackcloth, vowed +never to wash his face or cut his hair again. There was a pavilion +erected on deck, and there he lay alone, and for three months he spoke +word to none. + +At last it chanced that his ship came into the port of Mitylene, and +Lysimachus, the Governor, went on board to enquire whence the vessel +came. When he heard the story of Pericles' sorrow and silence, he +bethought him of Marina, and believing that she could rouse the King +from his stupor, sent for her and bade her try her utmost to persuade +the King to speak, promising whatever reward she would, if she +succeeded. Marina gladly obeyed, and sending the rest away, she sat and +sang to her poor grief-laden father, yet, sweet as was her voice, he +made no sign. So presently she spoke to him, saying that her grief might +equal his, for, though she was a slave, she came from ancestors that +stood equal to mighty kings. + +Something in her voice and story touched the King's heart, and he looked +up at her, and as he looked, he saw with wonder how like she was to his +lost wife, so with a great hope springing up in his heart, he bade her +tell her story. + +Then, with many interruptions from the King, she told him who she was +and how she had escaped from the cruel Dionyza. So Pericles knew that +this was indeed his daughter, and he kissed her again and again, crying +that his great seas of joy drowned him with their sweetness. "Give me my +robes," he said: "O Heaven, bless my girl!" + +Then there came to him, though none else could hear it, the sound of +heavenly music, and falling asleep, he beheld the goddess Diana, in a +vision. + +"Go," she said to him, "to my temple at Ephesus, and when my maiden +priests are met together, reveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife." + +Pericles obeyed the goddess and told his tale before her altar. Hardly +had he made an end, when the chief priestess, crying out, "You are--you +are--O royal Pericles!" fell fainting to the ground, and presently +recovering, she spoke again to him, "O my lord, are you not Pericles?" +"The voice of dead Thaisa!" exclaimed the King in wonder. "That Thaisa +am I," she said, and looking at her he saw that she spoke the very +truth. + +Thus Pericles and Thaisa, after long and bitter suffering, found +happiness once more, and in the joy of their meeting they forgot the +pain of the past. To Marina great happiness was given, and not only +in being restored to her dear parents; for she married Lysimachus, and +became a princess in the land where she had been sold as a slave. + + + + +HAMLET + + + +Hamlet was the only son of the King of Denmark. He loved his father and +mother dearly--and was happy in the love of a sweet lady named Ophelia. +Her father, Polonius, was the King's Chamberlain. + +While Hamlet was away studying at Wittenberg, his father died. Young +Hamlet hastened home in great grief to hear that a serpent had stung +the King, and that he was dead. The young Prince had loved his father so +tenderly that you may judge what he felt when he found that the Queen, +before yet the King had been laid in the ground a month, had determined +to marry again--and to marry the dead King's brother. + +Hamlet refused to put off mourning for the wedding. + +"It is not only the black I wear on my body," he said, "that proves my +loss. I wear mourning in my heart for my dead father. His son at least +remembers him, and grieves still." + +Then said Claudius the King's brother, "This grief is unreasonable. Of +course you must sorrow at the loss of your father, but--" + +"Ah," said Hamlet, bitterly, "I cannot in one little month forget those +I love." + +With that the Queen and Claudius left him, to make merry over their +wedding, forgetting the poor good King who had been so kind to them +both. + +And Hamlet, left alone, began to wonder and to question as to what he +ought to do. For he could not believe the story about the snake-bite. +It seemed to him all too plain that the wicked Claudius had killed the +King, so as to get the crown and marry the Queen. Yet he had no proof, +and could not accuse Claudius. + +And while he was thus thinking came Horatio, a fellow student of his, +from Wittenberg. + +"What brought you here?" asked Hamlet, when he had greeted his friend +kindly. + +"I came, my lord, to see your father's funeral." + +"I think it was to see my mother's wedding," said Hamlet, bitterly. "My +father! We shall not look upon his like again." + +"My lord," answered Horatio, "I think I saw him yesternight." + +Then, while Hamlet listened in surprise, Horatio told how he, with two +gentlemen of the guard, had seen the King's ghost on the battlements. +Hamlet went that night, and true enough, at midnight, the ghost of the +King, in the armor he had been wont to wear, appeared on the battlements +in the chill moonlight. Hamlet was a brave youth. Instead of running +away from the ghost he spoke to it--and when it beckoned him he followed +it to a quiet place, and there the ghost told him that what he had +suspected was true. The wicked Claudius had indeed killed his good +brother the King, by dropping poison into his ear as he slept in his +orchard in the afternoon. + +"And you," said the ghost, "must avenge this cruel murder-- on my wicked +brother. But do nothing against the Queen-- for I have loved her, and +she is your mother. Remember me." + +Then seeing the morning approach, the ghost vanished. + +"Now," said Hamlet, "there is nothing left but revenge. Remember thee--I +will remember nothing else--books, pleasure, youth--let all go--and your +commands alone live on my brain." + +So when his friends came back he made them swear to keep the secret of +the ghost, and then went in from the battlements, now gray with mingled +dawn and moonlight, to think how he might best avenge his murdered +father. + +The shock of seeing and hearing his father's ghost made him feel almost +mad, and for fear that his uncle might notice that he was not himself, +he determined to hide his mad longing for revenge under a pretended +madness in other matters. + +And when he met Ophelia, who loved him--and to whom he had given gifts, +and letters, and many loving words--he behaved so wildly to her, that +she could not but think him mad. For she loved him so that she could not +believe he would be as cruel as this, unless he were quite mad. So she +told her father, and showed him a pretty letter from Hamlet. And in the +letter was much folly, and this pretty verse-- + + "Doubt that the stars are fire; + Doubt that the sun doth move; + Doubt truth to be a liar; + But never doubt I love." + +And from that time everyone believed that the cause of Hamlet's supposed +madness was love. + +Poor Hamlet was very unhappy. He longed to obey his father's ghost--and +yet he was too gentle and kindly to wish to kill another man, even his +father's murderer. And sometimes he wondered whether, after all, the +ghost spoke truly. + +Just at this time some actors came to the Court, and Hamlet ordered them +to perform a certain play before the King and Queen. Now, this play +was the story of a man who had been murdered in his garden by a near +relation, who afterwards married the dead man's wife. + +You may imagine the feelings of the wicked King, as he sat on his +throne, with the Queen beside him and all his Court around, and saw, +acted on the stage, the very wickedness that he had himself done. And +when, in the play, the wicked relation poured poison into the ear of the +sleeping man, the wicked Claudius suddenly rose, and staggered from the +room--the Queen and others following. + +Then said Hamlet to his friends-- + +"Now I am sure the ghost spoke true. For if Claudius had not done this +murder, he could not have been so distressed to see it in a play." + +Now the Queen sent for Hamlet, by the King's desire, to scold him +for his conduct during the play, and for other matters; and Claudius, +wishing to know exactly what happened, told old Polonius to hide himself +behind the hangings in the Queen's room. And as they talked, the Queen +got frightened at Hamlet's rough, strange words, and cried for help, and +Polonius behind the curtain cried out too. Hamlet, thinking it was the +King who was hidden there, thrust with his sword at the hangings, and +killed, not the King, but poor old Polonius. + +So now Hamlet had offended his uncle and his mother, and by bad hap +killed his true love's father. + +"Oh! what a rash and bloody deed is this," cried the Queen. + +And Hamlet answered bitterly, "Almost as bad as to kill a king, and +marry his brother." Then Hamlet told the Queen plainly all his thoughts +and how he knew of the murder, and begged her, at least, to have no more +friendship or kindness of the base Claudius, who had killed the good +King. And as they spoke the King's ghost again appeared before Hamlet, +but the Queen could not see it. So when the ghost had gone, they parted. + +When the Queen told Claudius what had passed, and how Polonius was dead, +he said, "This shows plainly that Hamlet is mad, and since he has killed +the Chancellor, it is for his own safety that we must carry out our +plan, and send him away to England." + +So Hamlet was sent, under charge of two courtiers who served the King, +and these bore letters to the English Court, requiring that Hamlet +should be put to death. But Hamlet had the good sense to get at these +letters, and put in others instead, with the names of the two courtiers +who were so ready to betray him. Then, as the vessel went to England, +Hamlet escaped on board a pirate ship, and the two wicked courtiers left +him to his fate, and went on to meet theirs. + +Hamlet hurried home, but in the meantime a dreadful thing had happened. +Poor pretty Ophelia, having lost her lover and her father, lost her wits +too, and went in sad madness about the Court, with straws, and weeds, +and flowers in her hair, singing strange scraps of songs, and talking +poor, foolish, pretty talk with no heart of meaning to it. And one +day, coming to a stream where willows grew, she tried to bang a flowery +garland on a willow, and fell into the water with all her flowers, and +so died. + +And Hamlet had loved her, though his plan of seeming madness had made +him hide it; and when he came back, he found the King and Queen, and the +Court, weeping at the funeral of his dear love and lady. + +Ophelia's brother, Laertes, had also just come to Court to ask justice +for the death of his father, old Polonius; and now, wild with grief, he +leaped into his sister's grave, to clasp her in his arms once more. + +"I loved her more than forty thousand brothers," cried Hamlet, and leapt +into the grave after him, and they fought till they were parted. + +Afterwards Hamlet begged Laertes to forgive him. + +"I could not bear," he said, "that any, even a brother, should seem to +love her more than I." + +But the wicked Claudius would not let them be friends. He told Laertes +how Hamlet had killed old Polonius, and between them they made a plot to +slay Hamlet by treachery. + +Laertes challenged him to a fencing match, and all the Court were +present. Hamlet had the blunt foil always used in fencing, but Laertes +had prepared for himself a sword, sharp, and tipped with poison. And the +wicked King had made ready a bowl of poisoned wine, which he meant +to give poor Hamlet when he should grow warm with the sword play, and +should call for drink. + +So Laertes and Hamlet fought, and Laertes, after some fencing, gave +Hamlet a sharp sword thrust. Hamlet, angry at this treachery--for +they had been fencing, not as men fight, but as they play--closed with +Laertes in a struggle; both dropped their swords, and when they picked +them up again, Hamlet, without noticing it, had exchanged his own blunt +sword for Laertes' sharp and poisoned one. And with one thrust of it he +pierced Laertes, who fell dead by his own treachery. + +At this moment the Queen cried out, "The drink, the drink! Oh, my dear +Hamlet! I am poisoned!" + +She had drunk of the poisoned bowl the King had prepared for Hamlet, and +the King saw the Queen, whom, wicked as he was, he really loved, fall +dead by his means. + +Then Ophelia being dead, and Polonius, and the Queen, and Laertes, and +the two courtiers who had been sent to England, Hamlet at last found +courage to do the ghost's bidding and avenge his father's murder--which, +if he had braced up his heart to do long before, all these lives +had been spared, and none had suffered but the wicked King, who well +deserved to die. + +Hamlet, his heart at last being great enough to do the deed he ought, +turned the poisoned sword on the false King. + +"Then--venom--do thy work!" he cried, and the King died. + +So Hamlet in the end kept the promise he had made his father. And all +being now accomplished, he himself died. And those who stood by saw him +die, with prayers and tears, for his friends and his people loved him +with their whole hearts. Thus ends the tragic tale of Hamlet, Prince of +Denmark. + + + + +CYMBELINE + + + +Cymbeline was the King of Britain. He had three children. The two sons +were stolen away from him when they were quite little children, and he +was left with only one daughter, Imogen. The King married a second +time, and brought up Leonatus, the son of a dear friend, as Imogen's +playfellow; and when Leonatus was old enough, Imogen secretly married +him. This made the King and Queen very angry, and the King, to punish +Leonatus, banished him from Britain. + +Poor Imogen was nearly heart-broken at parting from Leonatus, and he was +not less unhappy. For they were not only lovers and husband and wife, +but they had been friends and comrades ever since they were quite little +children. With many tears and kisses they said "Good-bye." They promised +never to forget each other, and that they would never care for anyone +else as long as they lived. + +"This diamond was my mother's, love," said Imogen; "take it, my heart, +and keep it as long as you love me." + +"Sweetest, fairest," answered Leonatus, "wear this bracelet for my +sake." + +"Ah!" cried Imogen, weeping, "when shall we meet again?" + +And while they were still in each other's arms, the King came in, and +Leonatus had to leave without more farewell. + +When he was come to Rome, where he had gone to stay with an old friend +of his father's, he spent his days still in thinking of his dear Imogen, +and his nights in dreaming of her. One day at a feast some Italian and +French noblemen were talking of their sweethearts, and swearing that +they were the most faithful and honorable and beautiful ladies in the +world. And a Frenchman reminded Leonatus how he had said many times that +his wife Imogen was more fair, wise, and constant than any of the ladies +in France. + +"I say so still," said Leonatus. + +"She is not so good but that she would deceive," said Iachimo, one of +the Italian nobles. + +"She never would deceive," said Leonatus. + +"I wager," said Iachimo, "that, if I go to Britain, I can persuade your +wife to do whatever I wish, even if it should be against your wishes." + +"That you will never do," said Leonatus. "I wager this ring upon my +finger," which was the very ring Imogen had given him at parting, "that +my wife will keep all her vows to me, and that you will never persuade +her to do otherwise." + +So Iachimo wagered half his estate against the ring on Leonatus's +finger, and started forthwith for Britain, with a letter of introduction +to Leonatus's wife. When he reached there he was received with all +kindness; but he was still determined to win his wager. + +He told Imogen that her husband thought no more of her, and went on to +tell many cruel lies about him. Imogen listened at first, but presently +perceived what a wicked person Iachimo was, and ordered him to leave +her. Then he said-- + +"Pardon me, fair lady, all that I have said is untrue. I only told you +this to see whether you would believe me, or whether you were as much to +be trusted as your husband thinks. Will you forgive me?" + +"I forgive you freely," said Imogen. + +"Then," went on Iachimo, "perhaps you will prove it by taking charge of +a trunk, containing a number of jewels which your husband and I and some +other gentlemen have bought as a present for the Emperor of Rome." + +"I will indeed," said Imogen, "do anything for my husband and a friend +of my husband's. Have the jewels sent into my room, and I will take care +of them." + +"It is only for one night," said Iachimo, "for I leave Britain again +to-morrow." + +So the trunk was carried into Imogen's room, and that night she went to +bed and to sleep. When she was fast asleep, the lid of the trunk opened +and a man got out. It was Iachimo. The story about the jewels was as +untrue as the rest of the things he had said. He had only wished to get +into her room to win his wicked wager. He looked about him and noticed +the furniture, and then crept to the side of the bed where Imogen +was asleep and took from her arm the gold bracelet which had been the +parting gift of her husband. Then he crept back to the trunk, and next +morning sailed for Rome. + +When he met Leonatus, he said-- + +"I have been to Britain and I have won the wager, for your wife no +longer thinks about you. She stayed talking with me all one night in her +room, which is hung with tapestry and has a carved chimney-piece, and +silver andirons in the shape of two winking Cupids." + +"I do not believe she has forgotten me; I do not believe she stayed +talking with you in her room. You have heard her room described by the +servants." + +"Ah!" said Iachimo, "but she gave me this bracelet. She took it from +her arm. I see her yet. Her pretty action did outsell her gift, and yet +enriched it too. She gave it me, and said she prized it once." + +"Take the ring," cried Leonatus, "you have won; and you might have +won my life as well, for I care nothing for it now I know my lady has +forgotten me." + +And mad with anger, he wrote letters to Britain to his old servant, +Pisanio, ordering him to take Imogen to Milford Haven, and to murder +her, because she had forgotten him and given away his gift. At the same +time he wrote to Imogen herself, telling her to go with Pisanio, his old +servant, to Milford Haven, and that he, her husband, would be there to +meet her. + +Now when Pisanio got this letter he was too good to carry out its +orders, and too wise to let them alone altogether. So he gave Imogen the +letter from her husband, and started with her for Milford Haven. Before +he left, the wicked Queen gave him a drink which, she said, would be +useful in sickness. She hoped he would give it to Imogen, and that +Imogen would die, and the wicked Queen's son could be King. For the +Queen thought this drink was a poison, but really and truly it was only +a sleeping-draft. + +When Pisanio and Imogen came near to Milford Haven, he told her what was +really in the letter he had had from her husband. + +"I must go on to Rome, and see him myself," said Imogen. + +And then Pisanio helped her to dress in boy's clothes, and sent her +on her way, and went back to the Court. Before he went he gave her the +drink he had had from the Queen. + +Imogen went on, getting more and more tired, and at last came to a cave. +Someone seemed to live there, but no one was in just then. So she went +in, and as she was almost dying of hunger, she took some food she saw +there, and had just done so, when an old man and two boys came into the +cave. She was very much frightened when she saw them, for she thought +that they would be angry with her for taking their food, though she +had meant to leave money for it on the table. But to her surprise they +welcomed her kindly. She looked very pretty in her boy's clothes and her +face was good, as well as pretty. + +"You shall be our brother," said both the boys; and so she stayed with +them, and helped to cook the food, and make things comfortable. But one +day when the old man, whose name was Bellarius, was out hunting with +the two boys, Imogen felt ill, and thought she would try the medicine +Pisanio had given her. So she took it, and at once became like a dead +creature, so that when Bellarius and the boys came back from hunting, +they thought she was dead, and with many tears and funeral songs, they +carried her away and laid her in the wood, covered with flowers. + +They sang sweet songs to her, and strewed flowers on her, pale +primroses, and the azure harebell, and eglantine, and furred moss, and +went away sorrowful. No sooner had they gone than Imogen awoke, and not +knowing how she came there, nor where she was, went wandering through +the wood. + +Now while Imogen had been living in the cave, the Romans had decided to +attack Britain, and their army had come over, and with them Leonatus, +who had grown sorry for his wickedness against Imogen, so had come +back, not to fight with the Romans against Britain, but with the Britons +against Rome. So as Imogen wandered alone, she met with Lucius, the +Roman General, and took service with him as his page. + +When the battle was fought between the Romans and Britons, Bellarius and +his two boys fought for their own country, and Leonatus, disguised as +a British peasant, fought beside them. The Romans had taken Cymbeline +prisoner, and old Bellarius, with his sons and Leonatus, bravely rescued +the King. Then the Britons won the battle, and among the prisoners +brought before the King were Lucius, with Imogen, Iachimo, and Leonatus, +who had put on the uniform of a Roman soldier. He was tired of his life +since he had cruelly ordered his wife to be killed, and he hoped that, +as a Roman soldier, he would be put to death. + +When they were brought before the King, Lucius spoke out-- + +"A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer," he said. "If I must die, so +be it. This one thing only will I entreat. My boy, a Briton born, let +him be ransomed. Never master had a page so kind, so duteous, diligent, +true. He has done no Briton harm, though he has served a Roman. Save +him, Sir." + +Then Cymbeline looked on the page, who was his own daughter, Imogen, in +disguise, and though he did not recognize her, he felt such a kindness +that he not only spared the boy's life, but he said-- + +"He shall have any boon he likes to ask of me, even though he ask a +prisoner, the noblest taken." + +Then Imogen said, "The boon I ask is that this gentleman shall say from +whom he got the ring he has on his finger," and she pointed to Iachimo. + +"Speak," said Cymbeline, "how did you get that diamond?" + +Then Iachimo told the whole truth of his villainy. At this, Leonatus was +unable to contain himself, and casting aside all thought of disguise, he +came forward, cursing himself for his folly in having believed Iachimo's +lying story, and calling again and again on his wife whom he believed +dead. + +"Oh, Imogen, my love, my life!" he cried. "Oh, Imogen! + +Then Imogen, forgetting she was disguised, cried out, "Peace, my +lord--here, here!" + +Leonatus turned to strike the forward page who thus interfered in his +great trouble, and then he saw that it was his wife, Imogen, and they +fell into each other's arms. + +The King was so glad to see his dear daughter again, and so grateful to +the man who had rescued him (whom he now found to be Leonatus), that he +gave his blessing on their marriage, and then he turned to Bellarius, +and the two boys. Now Bellarius spoke-- + +"I am your old servant, Bellarius. You accused me of treason when I had +only been loyal to you, and to be doubted, made me disloyal. So I stole +your two sons, and see,--they are here!" And he brought forward the two +boys, who had sworn to be brothers to Imogen when they thought she was a +boy like themselves. + +The wicked Queen was dead of some of her own poisons, and the King, with +his three children about him, lived to a happy old age. + +So the wicked were punished, and the good and true lived happy ever +after. So may the wicked suffer, and honest folk prosper till the +world's end. + + + + +MACBETH + + + +When a person is asked to tell the story of Macbeth, he can tell two +stories. One is of a man called Macbeth who came to the throne of +Scotland by a crime in the year of our Lord 1039, and reigned justly +and well, on the whole, for fifteen years or more. This story is part +of Scottish history. The other story issues from a place called +Imagination; it is gloomy and wonderful, and you shall hear it. + +A year or two before Edward the Confessor began to rule England, a +battle was won in Scotland against a Norwegian King by two generals +named Macbeth and Banquo. After the battle, the generals walked together +towards Forres, in Elginshire, where Duncan, King of Scotland, was +awaiting them. + +While they were crossing a lonely heath, they saw three bearded women, +sisters, hand in hand, withered in appearance and wild in their attire. + +"Speak, who are you?" demanded Macbeth. + +"Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Glamis," said the first woman. + +"Hail, Macbeth, chieftain of Cawdor," said the second woman. + +"Hail, Macbeth, King that is to be," said the third woman. + +Then Banquo asked, "What of me?" and the third woman replied, "Thou +shalt be the father of kings." + +"Tell me more," said Macbeth. "By my father's death I am chieftain of +Glamis, but the chieftain of Cawdor lives, and the King lives, and his +children live. Speak, I charge you!" + +The women replied only by vanishing, as though suddenly mixed with the +air. + +Banquo and Macbeth knew then that they had been addressed by witches, +and were discussing their prophecies when two nobles approached. One of +them thanked Macbeth, in the King's name, for his military services, and +the other said, "He bade me call you chieftain of Cawdor." + +Macbeth then learned that the man who had yesterday borne that title +was to die for treason, and he could not help thinking, "The third witch +called me, 'King that is to be.'" + +"Banquo," he said, "you see that the witches spoke truth concerning me. +Do you not believe, therefore, that your child and grandchild will be +kings?" + +Banquo frowned. Duncan had two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and he +deemed it disloyal to hope that his son Fleance should rule Scotland. +He told Macbeth that the witches might have intended to tempt them +both into villainy by their prophecies concerning the throne. Macbeth, +however, thought the prophecy that he should be King too pleasant to +keep to himself, and he mentioned it to his wife in a letter. + +Lady Macbeth was the grand-daughter of a King of Scotland who had died +in defending his crown against the King who preceded Duncan, and by +whose order her only brother was slain. To her, Duncan was a reminder +of bitter wrongs. Her husband had royal blood in his veins, and when she +read his letter, she was determined that he should be King. + +When a messenger arrived to inform her that Duncan would pass a night in +Macbeth's castle, she nerved herself for a very base action. + +She told Macbeth almost as soon as she saw him that Duncan must spend +a sunless morrow. She meant that Duncan must die, and that the dead are +blind. "We will speak further," said Macbeth uneasily, and at night, +with his memory full of Duncan's kind words, he would fain have spared +his guest. + +"Would you live a coward?" demanded Lady Macbeth, who seems to have +thought that morality and cowardice were the same. + +"I dare do all that may become a man," replied Macbeth; "who dare do +more is none." + +"Why did you write that letter to me?" she inquired fiercely, and with +bitter words she egged him on to murder, and with cunning words she +showed him how to do it. + +After supper Duncan went to bed, and two grooms were placed on guard at +his bedroom door. Lady Macbeth caused them to drink wine till they were +stupefied. She then took their daggers and would have killed the King +herself if his sleeping face had not looked like her father's. + +Macbeth came later, and found the daggers lying by the grooms; and soon +with red hands he appeared before his wife, saying, "Methought I heard a +voice cry, 'Sleep no more! Macbeth destroys the sleeping.'" + +"Wash your hands," said she. "Why did you not leave the daggers by the +grooms? Take them back, and smear the grooms with blood." + +"I dare not," said Macbeth. + +His wife dared, and she returned to him with hands red as his own, but a +heart less white, she proudly told him, for she scorned his fear. + +The murderers heard a knocking, and Macbeth wished it was a knocking +which could wake the dead. It was the knocking of Macduff, the chieftain +of Fife, who had been told by Duncan to visit him early. Macbeth went to +him, and showed him the door of the King's room. + +Macduff entered, and came out again crying, "O horror! horror! horror!" + +Macbeth appeared as horror-stricken as Macduff, and pretending that he +could not bear to see life in Duncan's murderers, he slew the two grooms +with their own daggers before they could proclaim their innocence. + +These murders did not shriek out, and Macbeth was crowned at Scone. +One of Duncan's sons went to Ireland, the other to England. Macbeth was +King. But he was discontented. The prophecy concerning Banquo oppressed +his mind. If Fleance were to rule, a son of Macbeth would not rule. +Macbeth determined, therefore, to murder both Banquo and his son. He +hired two ruffians, who slew Banquo one night when he was on his way +with Fleance to a banquet which Macbeth was giving to his nobles. +Fleance escaped. + +Meanwhile Macbeth and his Queen received their guests very graciously, +and he expressed a wish for them which has been uttered thousands of +times since his day--"Now good digestion wait on appetite, and health on +both." + +"We pray your Majesty to sit with us," said Lennox, a Scotch noble; but +ere Macbeth could reply, the ghost of Banquo entered the banqueting hall +and sat in Macbeth's place. + +Not noticing the ghost, Macbeth observed that, if Banquo were present, +he could say that he had collected under his roof the choicest chivalry +of Scotland. Macduff, however, had curtly declined his invitation. + +The King was again pressed to take a seat, and Lennox, to whom Banquo's +ghost was invisible, showed him the chair where it sat. + +But Macbeth, with his eyes of genius, saw the ghost. He saw it like a +form of mist and blood, and he demanded passionately, "Which of you have +done this?" + +Still none saw the ghost but he, and to the ghost Macbeth said, "Thou +canst not say I did it." + +The ghost glided out, and Macbeth was impudent enough to raise a glass +of wine "to the general joy of the whole table, and to our dear friend +Banquo, whom we miss." + +The toast was drunk as the ghost of Banquo entered for the second time. + +"Begone!" cried Macbeth. "You are senseless, mindless! Hide in the +earth, thou horrible shadow." + +Again none saw the ghost but he. + +"What is it your Majesty sees?" asked one of the nobles. + +The Queen dared not permit an answer to be given to this question. She +hurriedly begged her guests to quit a sick man who was likely to grow +worse if he was obliged to talk. + +Macbeth, however, was well enough next day to converse with the witches +whose prophecies had so depraved him. + +He found them in a cavern on a thunderous day. They were revolving round +a cauldron in which were boiling particles of many strange and horrible +creatures, and they knew he was coming before he arrived. + +"Answer me what I ask you," said the King. + +"Would you rather hear it from us or our masters?" asked the first +witch. + +"Call them," replied Macbeth. + +Thereupon the witches poured blood into the cauldron and grease into the +flame that licked it, and a helmeted head appeared with the visor on, so +that Macbeth could only see its eyes. + +He was speaking to the head, when the first witch said gravely, "He +knows thy thought," and a voice in the head said, "Macbeth, beware +Macduff, the chieftain of Fife." The head then descended Into the +cauldron till it disappeared. + +"One word more," pleaded Macbeth. + +"He will not be commanded," said the first witch, and then a crowned +child ascended from the cauldron bearing a tree in his hand The child +said-- + + "Macbeth shall be unconquerable till + The Wood of Birnam climbs Dunsinane Hill." + +"That will never be," said Macbeth; and he asked to be told if Banquo's +descendants would ever rule Scotland. + +The cauldron sank into the earth; music was heard, and a procession of +phantom kings filed past Macbeth; behind them was Banquo's ghost. In +each king, Macbeth saw a likeness to Banquo, and he counted eight kings. + +Then he was suddenly left alone. + +His next proceeding was to send murderers to Macduff's castle. They +did not find Macduff, and asked Lady Macduff where he was. She gave +a stinging answer, and her questioner called Macduff a traitor. "Thou +liest!" shouted Macduff's little son, who was immediately stabbed, and +with his last breath entreated his mother to fly. The murderers did not +leave the castle while one of its inmates remained alive. + +Macduff was in England listening, with Malcolm, to a doctor's tale of +cures wrought by Edward the Confessor when his friend Ross came to tell +him that his wife and children were no more. At first Ross dared not +speak the truth, and turn Macduff's bright sympathy with sufferers +relieved by royal virtue into sorrow and hatred. But when Malcolm said +that England was sending an army into Scotland against Macbeth, Ross +blurted out his news, and Macduff cried, "All dead, did you say? All my +pretty ones and their mother? Did you say all?" + +His sorry hope was in revenge, but if he could have looked into +Macbeth's castle on Dunsinane Hill, he would have seen at work a force +more solemn than revenge. Retribution was working, for Lady Macbeth was +mad. She walked in her sleep amid ghastly dreams. She was wont to wash +her hands for a quarter of an hour at a time; but after all her washing, +would still see a red spot of blood upon her skin. It was pitiful to +hear her cry that all the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten her +little hand. + +"Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?" inquired Macbeth of the +doctor, but the doctor replied that his patient must minister to her own +mind. This reply gave Macbeth a scorn of medicine. "Throw physic to the +dogs," he said; "I'll none of it." + +One day he heard a sound of women crying. An officer approached him and +said, "The Queen, your Majesty, is dead." "Out, brief candle," muttered +Macbeth, meaning that life was like a candle, at the mercy of a puff of +air. He did not weep; he was too familiar with death. + +Presently a messenger told him that he saw Birnam Wood on the march. +Macbeth called him a liar and a slave, and threatened to hang him if he +had made a mistake. "If you are right you can hang me," he said. + +From the turret windows of Dunsinane Castle, Birnam Wood did indeed +appear to be marching. Every soldier of the English army held aloft a +bough which he had cut from a tree in that wood, and like human trees +they climbed Dunsinane Hill. + +Macbeth had still his courage. He went to battle to conquer or die, and +the first thing he did was to kill the English general's son in single +combat. Macbeth then felt that no man could fight him and live, and when +Macduff came to him blazing for revenge, Macbeth said to him, "Go back; +I have spilt too much of your blood already." + +"My voice is in my sword," replied Macduff, and hacked at him and bade +him yield. + +"I will not yield!" said Macbeth, but his last hour had struck. He fell. + +Macbeth's men were in retreat when Macduff came before Malcolm holding a +King's head by the hair. + +"Hail, King!" he said; and the new King looked at the old. + +So Malcolm reigned after Macbeth; but in years that came afterwards the +descendants of Banquo were kings. + + + + +THE COMEDY OF ERRORS + + + +AEGEON was a merchant of Syracuse, which is a seaport in Sicily. His +wife was AEmilia, and they were very happy until AEgeon's manager died, +and he was obliged to go by himself to a place called Epidamnum on the +Adriatic. As soon as she could AEmilia followed him, and after they had +been together some time two baby boys were born to them. The babies were +exactly alike; even when they were dressed differently they looked the +same. + +And now you must believe a very strange thing. At the same inn where +these children were born, and on the same day, two baby boys were born +to a much poorer couple than AEmilia and AEgeon; so poor, indeed, were +the parents of these twins that they sold them to the parents of the +other twins. + +AEmilia was eager to show her children to her friends in Syracuse, +and in treacherous weather she and AEgeon and the four babies sailed +homewards. + +They were still far from Syracuse when their ship sprang a leak, and the +crew left it in a body by the only boat, caring little what became of +their passengers. + +AEmilia fastened one of her children to a mast and tied one of the +slave-children to him; AEgeon followed her example with the remaining +children. Then the parents secured themselves to the same masts, and +hoped for safety. + +The ship, however, suddenly struck a rock and was split in two, and +AEmilia, and the two children whom she had tied, floated away from +AEgeon and the other children. AEmilia and her charges were picked up by +some people of Epidamnum, but some fishermen of Corinth took the +babies from her by force, and she returned to Epidanmum alone, and very +miserable. Afterwards she settled in Ephesus, a famous town in Asia +Minor. + +AEgeon and his charges were also saved; and, more fortunate than +AEmilia, he was able to return to Syracuse and keep them till they were +eighteen. His own child he called Antipholus, and the slavechild he +called Dromio; and, strangely enough, these were the names given to the +children who floated away from him. + +At the age of eighteen the son who was with AEgeon grew restless with a +desire to find his brother. AEgeon let him depart with his servant, and +the young men are henceforth known as Antipholus of Syracuse and Dromio +of Syracuse. + +Let alone, AEgeon found his home too dreary to dwell in, and traveled +for five years. He did not, during his absence, learn all the news of +Syracuse, or he would never have gone to Ephesus. + +As it was, his melancholy wandering ceased in that town, where he was +arrested almost as soon as he arrived. He then found that the Duke of +Syracuse had been acting in so tyrannical a manner to Ephesians unlucky +enough to fall into his hands, that the Government of Ephesus had +angrily passed a law which punished by death or a fine of a thousand +pounds any Syracusan who should come to Ephesus. AEgeon was brought +before Solinus, Duke of Ephesus, who told him that he must die or pay a +thousand pounds before the end of the day. + +You will think there was fate in this when I tell you that the children +who were kidnaped by the fishermen of Corinth were now citizens of +Ephesus, whither they had been brought by Duke Menaphon, an uncle of +Duke Solinus. They will henceforth be called Antipholus of Ephesus and +Dromio of Ephesus. + +Moreover, on the very day when AEgeon was arrested, Antipholus of +Syracuse landed in Ephesus and pretended that he came from Epidamnum in +order to avoid a penalty. He handed his money to his servant Dromio of +Syracuse, and bade him take it to the Centaur Inn and remain there till +he came. + +In less than ten minutes he was met on the Mart by Dromio of Ephesus, +his brother's slave, and immediately mistook him for his own Dromio. +"Why are you back so soon? Where did you leave the money?" asked +Antipholus of Syracuse. + +This Drornio knew of no money except sixpence, which he had received on +the previous Wednesday and given to the saddler; but he did know that +his mistress was annoyed because his master was not in to dinner, and he +asked Antipholus of Syracuse to go to a house called The Phoenix without +delay. His speech angered the hearer, who would have beaten him if he +had not fled. Antipholus of Syracuse them went to The Centaur, found +that his gold had been deposited there, and walked out of the inn. + +He was wandering about Ephesus when two beautiful ladies signaled to him +with their hands. They were sisters, and their names were Adriana and +Luciana. Adriana was the wife of his brother Antipholus of Ephesus, and +she had made up her mind, from the strange account given her by Dromio +of Ephesus, that her husband preferred another woman to his wife. "Ay, +you may look as if you did not know me," she said to the man who was +really her brother-in-law, "but I can remember when no words were sweet +unless I said them, no meat flavorsome unless I carved it." + +"Is it I you address?" said Antipholus of Syracuse stiffly. "I do not +know you." + +"Fie, brother," said Luciana. "You know perfectly well that she sent +Dromio to you to bid you come to dinner;" and Adriana said, "Come, come; +I have been made a fool of long enough. My truant husband shall dine +with me and confess his silly pranks and be forgiven." + +They were determined ladies, and Antipholus of Syracuse grew weary of +disputing with them, and followed them obediently to The Phoenix, where +a very late "mid-day" dinner awaited them. + +They were at dinner when Antipholus of Ephesus and his slave Dromio +demanded admittance. "Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cecily, Gillian, Ginn!" +shouted Dromio of Ephesus, who knew all his fellow-servants' names by +heart. + +From within came the reply, "Fool, dray-horse, coxcomb, idiot!" It was +Dromio of Syracuse unconsciously insulting his brother. + +Master and man did their best to get in, short of using a crowbar, and +finally went away; but Antipholus of Ephesus felt so annoyed with his +wife that he decided to give a gold chain which he had promised her, to +another woman. + +Inside The Phoenix, Luciana, who believed Antipholus of Syracuse to be +her sister's husband, attempted, by a discourse in rhyme, when alone +with him, to make him kinder to Adriana. In reply he told her that he +was not married, but that he loved her so much that, if Luciana were a +mermaid, he would gladly lie on the sea if he might feel beneath him her +floating golden hair. + +Luciana was shocked and left him, and reported his lovemaking to +Adriana, who said that her husband was old and ugly, and not fit to be +seen or heard, though secretly she was very fond of him. + +Antipholus of Syracuse soon received a visitor in the shape of Angelo +the goldsmith, of whom Antipholus of Ephesus had ordered the chain which +he had promised his wife and intended to give to another woman. + +The goldsmith handed the chain to Antipholus of Syracuse, and treated +his "I bespoke it not" as mere fun, so that the puzzled merchant took +the chain as good-humoredly as he had partaken of Adriana's dinner. He +offered payment, but Angelo foolishly said he would call again. + +The consequence was that Angelo was without money when a creditor of the +sort that stands no nonsense, threatened him with arrest unless he paid +his debt immediately. This creditor had brought a police officer with +him, and Angelo was relieved to see Antipholus of Ephesus coming out of +the house where he had been dining because he had been locked out of The +Phoenix. Bitter was Angelo's dismay when Antipholus denied receipt of +the chain. Angelo could have sent his mother to prison if she had said +that, and he gave Antipholus of Ephesus in charge. + +At this moment up came Dromio of Syracuse and told the wrong Antipholus +that he had shipped his goods, and that a favorable wind was blowing. +To the ears of Antipholus of Ephesus this talk was simple nonsense. He +would gladly have beaten the slave, but contented himself with crossly +telling him to hurry to Adriana and bid her send to her arrested husband +a purse of money which she would find in his desk. + +Though Adriana was furious with her husband because she thought he had +been making love to her sister, she did not prevent Luciana from +getting the purse, and she bade Dromio of Syracuse bring home his master +immediately. + +Unfortunately, before Dromio could reach the police station he met his +real master, who had never been arrested, and did not understand what +he meant by offering him a purse. Antipholus of Syracuse was further +surprised when a lady whom he did not know asked him for a chain that he +had promised her. She was, of course, the lady with whom Antipholus of +Ephesus had dined when his brother was occupying his place at table. +"Avaunt, thou witch!" was the answer which, to her astonishment, she +received. + +Meanwhile Antipholus of Ephesus waited vainly for the money which was +to have released him. Never a good-tempered man, he was crazy with anger +when Dromio of Ephesus, who, of course, had not been instructed to fetch +a purse, appeared with nothing more useful than a rope. He beat the +slave in the street despite the remonstrance of the police officer; +and his temper did not mend when Adriana, Luciana, and a doctor arrived +under the impression that he was mad and must have his pulse felt. He +raged so much that men came forward to bind him. But the kindness of +Adriana spared him this shame. She promised to pay the sum demanded of +him, and asked the doctor to lead him to The Phoenix. + +Angelo's merchant creditor being paid, the two were friendly again, +and might soon have been seen chatting before an abbey about the odd +behavior of Antipholus of Ephesus. "Softly," said the merchant at last, +"that's he, I think." + +It was not; it was Antipholus of Syracuse with his servant Dromio, +and he wore Angelo's chain round his neck! The reconciled pair fairly +pounced upon him to know what he meant by denying the receipt of the +chain he had the impudence to wear. Antipholus of Syracuse lost his +temper, and drew his sword, and at that moment Adriana and several +others appeared. "Hold!" shouted the careful wife. "Hurt him not; he is +mad. Take his sword away. Bind him--and Dromio too." + +Dromio of Syracuse did not wish to be bound, and he said to his master, +"Run, master! Into that abbey, quick, or we shall be robbed!" + +They accordingly retreated into the abbey. + +Adriana, Luciana, and a crowd remained outside, and the Abbess came out, +and said, "People, why do you gather here?" + +"To fetch my poor distracted husband," replied Adriana. + +Angelo and the merchant remarked that they had not known that he was +mad. + +Adriana then told the Abbess rather too much about her wifely worries, +for the Abbess received the idea that Adriana was a shrew, and that +if her husband was distracted he had better not return to her for the +present. + +Adriana determined, therefore, to complain to Duke Solinus, and, lo and +behold! a minute afterwards the great man appeared with officers and two +others. The others were AEgeon and the headsman. The thousand marks had +not been found, and AEgeon's fate seemed sealed. + +Ere the Duke could pass the abbey Adriana knelt before him, and told a +woeful tale of a mad husband rushing about stealing jewelry and drawing +his sword, adding that the Abbess refused to allow her to lead him home. + +The Duke bade the Abbess be summoned, and no sooner had he given the +order than a servant from The Phoenix ran to Adriana with the tale that +his master had singed off the doctor's beard. + +"Nonsense!" said Adriana, "he's in the abbey." + +"As sure as I live I speak the truth," said the servant. + +Antipholus of Syracuse had not come out of the abbey, before his +brother of Ephesus prostrated himself in front of the Duke, exclaiming, +"Justice, most gracious Duke, against that woman." He pointed to +Adriana. "She has treated another man like her husband in my own house." + +Even while he was speaking AEgeon said, "Unless I am delirious, I see my +son Antipholus." + +No one noticed him, and Antipholus of Ephesus went on to say how the +doctor, whom he called "a threadbare juggler," had been one of a gang +who tied him to his slave Dromio, and thrust them into a vault whence he +had escaped by gnawing through his bonds. + +The Duke could not understand how the same man who spoke to him was +seen to go into the abbey, and he was still wondering when AEgeon asked +Antipholus of Ephesus if he was not his son. He replied, "I never saw +my father in my life;" but so deceived was AEgeon by his likeness to +the brother whom he had brought up, that he said, "Thou art ashamed to +acknowledge me in misery." + +Soon, however, the Abbess advanced with Antipholus of Syracuse and +Dromio of Syracuse. + +Then cried Adriana, "I see two husbands or mine eyes deceive me;" and +Antipholus, espying his father, said, "Thou art AEgeon or his ghost." + +It was a day of surprises, for the Abbess said, "I will free that man by +paying his fine, and gain my husband whom I lost. Speak, AEgeon, for I +am thy wife AEmilia." + +The Duke was touched. "He is free without a fine," he said. + +So AEgeon and AEmilia were reunited, and Adriana and her husband +reconciled; but no one was happier than Antipholus of Syracuse, who, in +the Duke's presence, went to Luciana and said, "I told you I loved you. +Will you be my wife?" + +Her answer was given by a look, and therefore is not written. + +The two Dromios were glad to think they would receive no more beatings. + + + + +THE MERCHANT OF VENICE + + + +Antonio was a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. His ships were +on nearly every sea, and he traded with Portugal, with Mexico, with +England, and with India. Although proud of his riches, he was very +generous with them, and delighted to use them in relieving the wants of +his friends, among whom his relation, Bassanio, held the first place. + +Now Bassanio, like many another gay and gallant gentleman, was reckless +and extravagant, and finding that he had not only come to the end of his +fortune, but was also unable to pay his creditors, he went to Antonio +for further help. + +"To you, Antonio," he said, "I owe the most in money and in love: and I +have thought of a plan to pay everything I owe if you will but help me." + +"Say what I can do, and it shall be done," answered his friend. + +Then said Bassanio, "In Belmont is a lady richly left, and from all +quarters of the globe renowned suitors come to woo her, not only because +she is rich, but because she is beautiful and good as well. She looked +on me with such favor when last we met, that I feel sure that I should +win her away from all rivals for her love had I but the means to go to +Belmont, where she lives." + +"All my fortunes," said Antonio, "are at sea, and so I have no ready +money; but luckily my credit is good in Venice, and I will borrow for +you what you need." + +There was living in Venice at this time a rich money-lender, named +Shylock. Antonio despised and disliked this man very much, and treated +him with the greatest harshness and scorn. He would thrust him, like a +cur, over his threshold, and would even spit on him. Shylock submitted +to all these indignities with a patient shrug; but deep in his heart he +cherished a desire for revenge on the rich, smug merchant. For Antonio +both hurt his pride and injured his business. "But for him," thought +Shylock, "I should be richer by half a million ducats. On the market +place, and wherever he can, he denounces the rate of interest I charge, +and--worse than that--he lends out money freely." + +So when Bassanio came to him to ask for a loan of three thousand ducats +to Antonio for three months, Shylock hid his hatred, and turning to +Antonio, said--"Harshly as you have treated me, I would be friends with +you and have your love. So I will lend you the money and charge you no +interest. But, just for fun, you shall sign a bond in which it shall be +agreed that if you do not repay me in three months' time, then I shall +have the right to a pound of your flesh, to be cut from what part of +your body I choose." + +"No," cried Bassanio to his friend, "you shall run no such risk for me." + +"Why, fear not," said Antonio, "my ships will be home a month before the +time. I will sign the bond." + +Thus Bassanio was furnished with the means to go to Belmont, there to +woo the lovely Portia. The very night he started, the money-lender's +pretty daughter, Jessica, ran away from her father's house with her +lover, and she took with her from her father's hoards some bags of +ducats and precious stones. Shylock's grief and anger were terrible to +see. His love for her changed to hate. "I would she were dead at my +feet and the jewels in her ear," he cried. His only comfort now was in +hearing of the serious losses which had befallen Antonio, some of whose +ships were wrecked. "Let him look to his bond," said Shylock, "let him +look to his bond." + +Meanwhile Bassanio had reached Belmont, and had visited the fair Portia. +He found, as he had told Antonio, that the rumor of her wealth and +beauty had drawn to her suitors from far and near. But to all of them +Portia had but one reply. She would only accept that suitor who would +pledge himself to abide by the terms of her father's will. These were +conditions that frightened away many an ardent wooer. For he who would +win Portia's heart and hand, had to guess which of three caskets held +her portrait. If he guessed aright, then Portia would be his bride; if +wrong, then he was bound by oath never to reveal which casket he chose, +never to marry, and to go away at once. + +The caskets were of gold, silver, and lead. The gold one bore this +inscription:--"Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;" +the silver one had this:--"Who chooseth me shall get as much as he +deserves;" while on the lead one were these words:--"Who chooseth me +must give and hazard all he hath." The Prince of Morocco, as brave as he +was black, was among the first to submit to this test. He chose the +gold casket, for he said neither base lead nor silver could contain her +picture. So be chose the gold casket, and found inside the likeness of +what many men desire--death. + +After him came the haughty Prince of Arragon, and saying, "Let me have +what I deserve--surely I deserve the lady," he chose the silver one, and +found inside a fool's head. "Did I deserve no more than a fool's head?" +he cried. + +Then at last came Bassanio, and Portia would have delayed him from +making his choice from very fear of his choosing wrong. For she loved +him dearly, even as he loved her. "But," said Bassanio, "let me choose at +once, for, as I am, I live upon the rack." + +Then Portia bade her servants to bring music and play while her gallant +lover made his choice. And Bassanio took the oath and walked up to the +caskets--the musicians playing softly the while. "Mere outward show," he +said, "is to be despised. The world is still deceived with ornament, and +so no gaudy gold or shining silver for me. I choose the lead casket; +joy be the consequence!" And opening it, he found fair Portia's portrait +inside, and he turned to her and asked if it were true that she was his. + +"Yes," said Portia, "I am yours, and this house is yours, and with them +I give you this ring, from which you must never part." + +And Bassanio, saying that he could hardly speak for joy, found words to +swear that he would never part with the ring while he lived. + +Then suddenly all his happiness was dashed with sorrow, for messengers +came from Venice to tell him that Antonio was ruined, and that Shylock +demanded from the Duke the fulfilment of the bond, under which he was +entitled to a pound of the merchant's flesh. Portia was as grieved as +Bassanio to hear of the danger which threatened his friend. + +"First," she said, "take me to church and make me your wife, and then +go to Venice at once to help your friend. You shall take with you money +enough to pay his debt twenty times over." + +But when her newly-made husband had gone, Portia went after him, and +arrived in Venice disguised as a lawyer, and with an introduction from +a celebrated lawyer Bellario, whom the Duke of Venice had called in +to decide the legal questions raised by Shylock's claim to a pound of +Antonio's flesh. When the Court met, Bassanio offered Shylock twice the +money borrowed, if he would withdraw his claim. But the money-lender's +only answer was-- + + "If every ducat in six thousand ducats, + Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, + I would not draw them,--I would have my bond." + +It was then that Portia arrived in her disguise, and not even her own +husband knew her. The Duke gave her welcome on account of the great +Bellario's introduction, and left the settlement of the case to her. +Then in noble words she bade Shylock have mercy. But he was deaf to her +entreaties. "I will have the pound of flesh," was his reply. + +"What have you to say?" asked Portia of the merchant. + +"But little," he answered; "I am armed and well prepared." + +"The Court awards you a pound of Antonio's flesh," said Portia to the +money-lender. + +"Most righteous judge!" cried Shylock. "A sentence: come, prepare." + +"Tarry a little. This bond gives you no right to Antonio's blood, only +to his flesh. If, then, you spill a drop of his blood, all your property +will be forfeited to the State. Such is the Law." + +And Shylock, in his fear, said, "Then I will take Bassanio's offer." + +"No," said Portia sternly, "you shall have nothing but your bond. Take +your pound of flesh, but remember, that if you take more or less, even +by the weight of a hair, you will lose your property and your life." + +Shylock now grew very much frightened. "Give me my three thousand ducats +that I lent him, and let him go." + +Bassanio would have paid it to him, but said Portia, "No! He shall have +nothing but his bond." + +"You, a foreigner," she added, "have sought to take the life of a +Venetian citizen, and thus by the Venetian law, your life and goods are +forfeited. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke." + +Thus were the tables turned, and no mercy would have been shown to +Shylock had it not been for Antonio. As it was, the money-lender +forfeited half his fortune to the State, and he had to settle the other +half on his daughter's husband, and with this he had to be content. + +Bassanio, in his gratitude to the clever lawyer, was induced to part +with the ring his wife had given him, and with which he had promised +never to part, and when on his return to Belmont he confessed as much to +Portia, she seemed very angry, and vowed she would not be friends with +him until she had her ring again. But at last she told him that it was +she who, in the disguise of the lawyer, had saved his friend's life, and +got the ring from him. So Bassanio was forgiven, and made happier +than ever, to know how rich a prize he had drawn in the lottery of the +caskets. + + + + +TIMON OF ATHENS + + + +Four hundred years before the birth of Christ, a man lived in Athens +whose generosity was not only great, but absurd. He was very rich, but +no worldly wealth was enough for a man who spent and gave like Timon. If +anybody gave Timon a horse, he received from Timon twenty better horses. +If anybody borrowed money of Timon and offered to repay it, Timon was +offended. If a poet had written a poem and Timon had time to read it, he +would be sure to buy it; and a painter had only to hold up his canvas in +front of Timon to receive double its market price. + +Flavius, his steward, looked with dismay at his reckless mode of life. +When Timon's house was full of noisy lords drinking and spilling costly +wine, Flavius would sit in a cellar and cry. He would say to himself, +"There are ten thousand candles burning in this house, and each of those +singers braying in the concert-room costs a poor man's yearly income a +night;" and he would remember a terrible thing said by Apemantus, one of +his master's friends, "O what a number of men eat Timon, and Timon sees +them not!" + +Of course, Timon was much praised. + +A jeweler who sold him a diamond pretended that it was not quite perfect +till Timon wore it. "You mend the jewel by wearing it," he said. Timon +gave the diamond to a lord called Sempronius, and the lord exclaimed, +"O, he's the very soul of bounty." "Timon is infinitely dear to me," +said another lord, called Lucullus, to whom he gave a beautiful horse; +and other Athenians paid him compliments as sweet. + +But when Apemantus had listened to some of them, he said, "I'm going to +knock out an honest Athenian's brains." + +"You will die for that," said Timon. + +"Then I shall die for doing nothing," said Apemantus. And now you know +what a joke was like four hundred years before Christ. + +This Apernantus was a frank despiser of mankind, but a healthy one, +because he was not unhappy. In this mixed world anyone with a number +of acquaintances knows a person who talks bitterly of men, but does not +shun them, and boasts that he is never deceived by their fine speeches, +and is inwardly cheerful and proud. Apemantus was a man like that. + +Timon, you will be surprised to hear, became much worse than Apemantus, +after the dawning of a day which we call Quarter Day. + +Quarter Day is the day when bills pour in. The grocer, the butcher, and +the baker are all thinking of their debtors on that day, and the wise +man has saved enough money to be ready for them. But Timon had not; and +he did not only owe money for food. He owed it for jewels and horses and +furniture; and, worst of all, he owed it to money-lenders, who expected +him to pay twice as much as he had borrowed. + +Quarter Day is a day when promises to pay are scorned, and on that day +Timon was asked for a large sum of money. "Sell some land," he said +to his steward. "You have no land," was the reply. "Nonsense! I had a +hundred, thousand acres," said Timon. "You could have spent the price of +the world if you had possessed it," said Flavius. + +"Borrow some then," said Timon; "try Ventidius." He thought of Ventidius +because he had once got Ventidius out of prison by paying a creditor of +this young man. Ventidius was now rich. Timon trusted in his gratitude. +But not for all; so much did he owe! Servants were despatched with +requests for loans of money to several friends: + +One servant (Flaminius) went to Lucullus. When he was announced Lucullus +said, "A gift, I warrant. I dreamt of a silver jug and basin last +night." Then, changing his tone, "How is that honorable, free-hearted, +perfect gentleman, your master, eh?" + +"Well in health, sir," replied Flaminius. + +"And what have you got there under your cloak?" asked Lucullus, +jovially. + +"Faith, sir, nothing but an empty box, which, on my master's behalf, I +beg you to fill with money, sir." + +"La! la! la!" said Lucullus, who could not pretend to mean, "Ha! ha! +ha!" "Your master's one fault is that he is too fond of giving parties. +I've warned him that it was expensive. Now, look here, Flaminius, you +know this is no time to lend money without security, so suppose you +act like a good boy and tell him that I was not at home. Here's three +solidares for yourself." + +"Back, wretched money," cried Flaminius, "to him who worships you!" + +Others of Timon's friends were tried and found stingy. Amongst them was +Sempronius. + +"Hum," he said to Timon's servant, "has he asked Ventidius? Ventidius is +beholden to him." + +"He refused." + +"Well, have you asked Lucullus?" + +"He refused." + +"A poor compliment to apply to me last of all," said Sempronius, in +affected anger. "If he had sent to me at first, I would gladly have lent +him money, but I'm not going to be such a fool as to lend him any now." + +"Your lordship makes a good villain," said the servant. + +When Timon found that his friends were so mean, he took advantage of +a lull in his storm of creditors to invite Ventidius and Company to a +banquet. Flavius was horrified, but Ventidius and Company, were not in +the least ashamed, and they assembled accordingly in Timon's house, and +said to one another that their princely host had been jesting with them. + +"I had to put off an important engagement in order to come here," said +Lucullus; "but who could refuse Timon?" + +"It was a real grief to me to be without ready money when he asked for +some," said Sempronius. + +"The same here," chimed in a third lord. + +Timon now appeared, and his guests vied with one another in apologies +and compliments. Inwardly sneering, Timon was gracious to them all. + +In the banqueting ball was a table resplendent with covered dishes. +Mouths watered. These summer-friends loved good food. + +"Be seated, worthy friends," said Timon. He then prayed aloud to the +gods of Greece. "Give each man enough," he said, "for if you, who are +our gods, were to borrow of men they would cease to adore you. Let men +love the joint more than the host. Let every score of guests contain +twenty villains. Bless my friends as much as they have blessed me. +Uncover the dishes, dogs, and lap!" + +The hungry lords were too much surprised by this speech to resent it. +They thought Timon was unwell, and, although he had called them dogs, +they uncovered the dishes. + +There was nothing in them but warm water. + +"May you never see a better feast," wished Timon "I wash off the +flatteries with which you plastered me and sprinkle you with your +villainy." With these words he threw the water into his guests' faces, +and then he pelted them with the dishes. Having thus ended the banquet, +he went into an outhouse, seized a spade, and quitted Athens for ever. + +His next dwelling was a cave near the sea. + +Of all his friends, the only one who had not refused him aid was a +handsome soldier named Alcibiades, and he had not been asked because, +having quarreled with the Government of Athens, he had left that town. +The thought that Alcibiades might have proved a true friend did not +soften Timon's bitter feeling. He was too weak-minded to discern +the fact that good cannot be far from evil in this mixed world. He +determined to see nothing better in all mankind than the ingratitude of +Ventidius and the meanness of Lucullus. + +He became a vegetarian, and talked pages to himself as he dug in the +earth for food. + +One day, when he was digging for roots near the shore, his spade struck +gold. If he had been a wise man he would have enriched himself quickly, +and returned to Athens to live in comfort. But the sight of the gold +vein gave no joy but only scorn to Timon. "This yellow slave," he said, +"will make and break religions. It will make black white and foul fair. +It will buy murder and bless the accursed." + +He was still ranting when Alcibiades, now an enemy of Athens, approached +with his soldiers and two beautiful women who cared for nothing but +pleasure. + +Timon was so changed by his bad thoughts and rough life that Alcibiades +did not recognize him at first. + +"Who are you?" he asked. + +"A beast, as you are," was the reply. + +Alcibiades knew his voice, and offered him help and money. But Timon +would none of it, and began to insult the women. They, however, when +they found he had discovered a gold mine, cared not a jot for his +opinion of them, but said, "Give us some gold, good Timon. Have you +more?" + +With further insults, Timon filled their aprons with gold ore. + +"Farewell," said Alcibiades, who deemed that Timon's wits were lost; and +then his disciplined soldiers left without profit the mine which could +have paid their wages, and marched towards Athens. + +Timon continued to dig and curse, and affected great delight when he dug +up a root and discovered that it was not a grape. + +Just then Apemantus appeared. "I am told that you imitate me," said +Apemantus. "Only," said Timon, "because you haven't a dog which I can +imitate." + +"You are revenging yourself on your friends by punishing yourself," said +Apemantus. "That is very silly, for they live just as comfortably as +they ever did. I am sorry that a fool should imitate me." + +"If I were like you," said Timon, "I should throw myself away." + +"You have done so," sneered Apemantus. "Will the cold brook make you a +good morning drink, or an east wind warm your clothes as a valet would?" + +"Off with you!" said Timon; but Apemantus stayed a while longer and told +him he had a passion for extremes, which was true. Apemantus even made a +pun, but there was no good laughter to be got out of Timon. + +Finally, they lost their temper like two schoolboys, and Timon said he +was sorry to lose the stone which he flung at Apemantus, who left him +with an evil wish. + +This was almost an "at home" day for Timon, for when Apemantus had +departed, he was visited by some robbers. They wanted gold. + +"You want too much," said Timon. "Here are water, roots and berries." + +"We are not birds and pigs," said a robber. + +"No, you are cannibals," said Timon. "Take the gold, then, and may it +poison you! Henceforth rob one another." + +He spoke so frightfully to them that, though they went away with full +pockets, they almost repented of their trade. His last visitor on that +day of visits was his good steward Flavius. "My dearest master!" cried +he. + +"Away! What are you?" said Timon. + +"Have you forgotten me, sir?" asked Flavius, mournfully. + +"I have forgotten all men," was the reply; "and if you'll allow that you +are a man, I have forgotten you." + +"I was your honest servant," said Flavius. + +"Nonsense! I never had an honest man about me," retorted Timon. + +Flavius began to cry. + +"What! shedding tears?" said Timon. "Come nearer, then. I will love you +because you are a woman, and unlike men, who only weep when they laugh +or beg." + +They talked awhile; then Timon said, "Yon gold is mine. I will make you +rich, Flavius, if you promise me to live by yourself and hate mankind. +I will make you very rich if you promise me that you will see the flesh +slide off the beggar's bones before you feed him, and let the debtor die +in jail before you pay his debt." + +Flavius simply said, "Let me stay to comfort you, my master." + +"If you dislike cursing, leave me," replied Timon, and he turned his +back on Flavius, who went sadly back to Athens, too much accustomed to +obedience to force his services upon his ailing master. + +The steward had accepted nothing, but a report got about that a mighty +nugget of gold had been given him by his former master, and Timon +therefore received more visitors. They were a painter and a poet, whom +he had patronized in his prosperity. + +"Hail, worthy Timon!" said the poet. "We heard with astonishment how +your friends deserted you. No whip's large enough for their backs!" + +"We have come," put in the painter, "to offer our services." + +"You've heard that I have gold," said Timon. + +"There was a report," said the painter, blushing; "but my friend and I +did not come for that." + +"Good honest men!" jeered Timon. "All the same, you shall have plenty of +gold if you will rid me of two villains." + +"Name them," said his two visitors in one breath. "Both of you!" +answered Timon. Giving the painter a whack with a big stick, he said, +"Put that into your palette and make money out of it." Then he gave a +whack to the poet, and said, "Make a poem out of that and get paid for +it. There's gold for you." + +They hurriedly withdrew. + +Finally Timon was visited by two senators who, now that Athens was +threatened by Alcibiades, desired to have on their side this bitter +noble whose gold might help the foe. + +"Forget your injuries," said the first senator. "Athens offers you +dignities whereby you may honorably live." + +"Athens confesses that your merit was overlooked, and wishes to atone, +and more than atone, for her forgetfulness," said the second senator. + +"Worthy senators," replied Timon, in his grim way, "I am almost weeping; +you touch me so! All I need are the eyes of a woman and the heart of a +fool." + +But the senators were patriots. They believed that this bitter man could +save Athens, and they would not quarrel with him. "Be our captain," +they said, "and lead Athens against Alcibiades, who threatens to destroy +her." + +"Let him destroy the Athenians too, for all I care," said Timon; and +seeing an evil despair in his face, they left him. + +The senators returned to Athens, and soon afterwards trumpets were blown +before its walls. Upon the walls they stood and listened to Alcibiades, +who told them that wrong-doers should quake in their easy chairs. They +looked at his confident army, and were convinced that Athens must yield +if he assaulted it, therefore they used the voice that strikes deeper +than arrows. + +"These walls of ours were built by the hands of men who never wronged +you, Alcibiades," said the first senator. + +"Enter," said the second senator, "and slay every tenth man, if your +revenge needs human flesh." + +"Spare the cradle," said the first senator. + +"I ask only justice," said Alcibiades. "If you admit my army, I will +inflict the penalty of your own laws upon any soldier who breaks them." + +At that moment a soldier approached Alcibiades, and said, "My noble +general, Timon is dead." He handed Alcibiades a sheet of wax, saying, +"He is buried by the sea, on the beach, and over his grave is a stone +with letters on it which I cannot read, and therefore I have impressed +them on wax." + +Alcibiades read from the sheet of wax this couplet-- + + "Here lie I, Timon, who, alive, + all living men did hate. + Pass by and say your worst; but pass, + and stay not here your gait." + +"Dead, then, is noble Timon," said Alcibiades; and be entered Athens +with an olive branch instead of a sword. + +So it was one of Timon's friends who was generous in a greater matter +than Timon's need; yet are the sorrow and rage of Timon remembered as a +warning lest another ingratitude should arise to turn love into hate. + + + + +OTHELLO + + + +Four hundred years ago there lived in Venice an ensign named Iago, who +hated his general, Othello, for not making him a lieutenant. Instead of +Iago, who was strongly recommended, Othello had chosen Michael Cassio, +whose smooth tongue had helped him to win the heart of Desdemona. Iago +had a friend called Roderigo, who supplied him with money and felt he +could not be happy unless Desdemona was his wife. + +Othello was a Moor, but of so dark a complexion that his enemies called +him a Blackamoor. His life had been hard and exciting. He had been +vanquished in battle and sold into slavery; and he had been a great +traveler and seen men whose shoulders were higher than their heads. +Brave as a lion, he had one great fault--jealousy. His love was a +terrible selfishness. To love a woman meant with him to possess her as +absolutely as he possessed something that did not live and think. The +story of Othello is a story of jealousy. + +One night Iago told Roderigo that Othello had carried off Desdemona +without the knowledge of her father, Brabantio. He persuaded Roderigo +to arouse Brabantio, and when that senator appeared Iago told him +of Desdemona's elopement in the most unpleasant way. Though he was +Othello's officer, he termed him a thief and a Barbary horse. + +Brabantio accused Othello before the Duke of Venice of using sorcery to +fascinate his daughter, but Othello said that the only sorcery he used +was his voice, which told Desdemona his adventures and hair-breadth +escapes. Desdemona was led into the council-chamber, and she explained +how she could love Othello despite his almost black face by saying, "I +saw Othello's visage in his mind." + +As Othello had married Desdemona, and she was glad to be his wife, there +was no more to be said against him, especially as the Duke wished him to +go to Cyprus to defend it against the Turks. Othello was quite ready to +go, and Desdemona, who pleaded to go with him, was permitted to join him +at Cyprus. + +Othello's feelings on landing in this island were intensely joyful. "Oh, +my sweet," he said to Desdemona, who arrived with Iago, his wife, and +Roderigo before him, "I hardly know what I say to you. I am in love with +my own happiness." + +News coming presently that the Turkish fleet was out of action, he +proclaimed a festival in Cyprus from five to eleven at night. + +Cassio was on duty in the Castle where Othello ruled Cyprus, so Iago +decided to make the lieutenant drink too much. He had some difficulty, +as Cassio knew that wine soon went to his head, but servants brought +wine into the room where Cassio was, and Iago sang a drinking song, and +so Cassio lifted a glass too often to the health of the general. + +When Cassio was inclined to be quarrelsome, Iago told Roderigo to say +something unpleasant to him. Cassio cudgeled Roderigo, who ran into the +presence of Montano, the ex-governor. Montano civilly interceded for +Roderigo, but received so rude an answer from Cassio that he said, +"Come, come, you're drunk!" Cassio then wounded him, and Iago sent +Roderigo out to scare the town with a cry of mutiny. + +The uproar aroused Othello, who, on learning its cause, said, "Cassio, I +love thee, but never more be officer of mine." + +On Cassio and Iago being alone together, the disgraced man moaned about +his reputation. Iago said reputation and humbug were the same thing. +"O God," exclaimed Cassio, without heeding him, "that men should put an +enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" + +Iago advised him to beg Desdemona to ask Othello to pardon him. Cassio +was pleased with the advice, and next morning made his request to +Desdemona in the garden of the castle. She was kindness itself, and +said, "Be merry, Cassio, for I would rather die than forsake your +cause." + +Cassio at that moment saw Othello advancing with Iago, and retired +hurriedly. + +Iago said, "I don't like that." + +"What did you say?" asked Othello, who felt that he had meant something +unpleasant, but Iago pretended he had said nothing. "Was not that Cassio +who went from my wife?" asked Othello, and Iago, who knew that it was +Cassio and why it was Cassio, said, "I cannot think it was Cassio who +stole away in that guilty manner." + +Desdemona told Othello that it was grief and humility which made Cassio +retreat at his approach. She reminded him how Cassio had taken his part +when she was still heart-free, and found fault with her Moorish lover. +Othello was melted, and said, "I will deny thee nothing," but Desdemona +told him that what she asked was as much for his good as dining. + +Desdemona left the garden, and Iago asked if it was really true that +Cassio had known Desdemona before her marriage. + +"Yes," said Othello. + +"Indeed," said Iago, as though something that had mystified him was now +very clear. + +"Is he not honest?" demanded Othello, and Iago repeated the adjective +inquiringly, as though he were afraid to say "No." + +"What do you mean?" insisted Othello. + +To this Iago would only say the flat opposite of what he said to Cassio. +He had told Cassio that reputation was humbug. To Othello he said, "Who +steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me my good name +ruins me." + +At this Othello almost leapt into the air, and Iago was so confident +of his jealousy that he ventured to warn him against it. Yes, it was no +other than Iago who called jealousy "the green-eyed monster which doth +mock the meat it feeds on." + +Iago having given jealousy one blow, proceeded to feed it with the +remark that Desdemona deceived her father when she eloped with Othello. +"If she deceived him, why not you?" was his meaning. + +Presently Desdemona re-entered to tell Othello that dinner was ready. +She saw that he was ill at ease. He explained it by a pain in his +forehead. Desdemona then produced a handkerchief, which Othello +had given her. A prophetess, two hundred years old, had made this +handkerchief from the silk of sacred silkworms, dyed it in a +liquid prepared from the hearts of maidens, and embroidered it with +strawberries. Gentle Desdemona thought of it simply as a cool, soft +thing for a throbbing brow; she knew of no spell upon it that would work +destruction for her who lost it. "Let me tie it round your head," she +said to Othello; "you will be well in an hour." But Othello pettishly +said it was too small, and let it fall. Desdemona and he then went +indoors to dinner, and Emilia picked up the handkerchief which Iago had +often asked her to steal. + +She was looking at it when Iago came in. After a few words about it he +snatched it from her, and bade her leave him. + +In the garden he was joined by Othello, who seemed hungry for the worst +lies he could offer. He therefore told Othello that he had seen Cassio +wipe his mouth with a handkerchief, which, because it was spotted with +strawberries, he guessed to be one that Othello had given his wife. + +The unhappy Moor went mad with fury, and Iago bade the heavens witness +that he devoted his hand and heart and brain to Othello's service. "I +accept your love," said Othello. "Within three days let me hear that +Cassio is dead." + +Iago's next step was to leave Desdemona's handkerchief in Cassio's room. +Cassio saw it, and knew it was not his, but he liked the strawberry +pattern on it, and he gave it to his sweetheart Bianca and asked her to +copy it for him. + +Iago's next move was to induce Othello, who had been bullying Desdemona +about the handkerchief, to play the eavesdropper to a conversation +between Cassio and himself. His intention was to talk about Cassio's +sweetheart, and allow Othello to suppose that the lady spoken of was +Desdemona. + +"How are you, lieutenant?" asked Iago when Cassio appeared. + +"The worse for being called what I am not," replied Cassio, gloomily. + +"Keep on reminding Desdemona, and you'll soon be restored," said Iago, +adding, in a tone too low for Othello to hear, "If Bianca could set the +matter right, how quickly it would mend!" + +"Alas! poor rogue," said Cassio, "I really think she loves me," and like +the talkative coxcomb he was, Cassio was led on to boast of Bianca's +fondness for him, while Othello imagined, with choked rage, that he +prattled of Desdemona, and thought, "I see your nose, Cassio, but not +the dog I shall throw it to." + +Othello was still spying when Bianca entered, boiling over with the idea +that Cassio, whom she considered her property, had asked her to copy the +embroidery on the handkerchief of a new sweetheart. She tossed him the +handkerchief with scornful words, and Cassio departed with her. + +Othello had seen Bianca, who was in station lower, in beauty and speech +inferior far, to Desdemona and he began in spite of himself to praise +his wife to the villain before him. He praised her skill with the +needle, her voice that could "sing the savageness out of a bear," her +wit, her sweetness, the fairness of her skin. Every time he praised +her Iago said something that made him remember his anger and utter it +foully, and yet he must needs praise her, and say, "The pity of it, +Iago! O Iago, the pity of it, Iago!" + +There was never in all Iago's villainy one moment of wavering. If there +had been he might have wavered then. + +"Strangle her," he said; and "Good, good!" said his miserable dupe. + +The pair were still talking murder when Desdemona appeared with a +relative of Desdemona's father, called Lodovico, who bore a letter +for Othello from the Duke of Venice. The letter recalled Othello from +Cyprus, and gave the governorship to Cassio. + +Luckless Desdemona seized this unhappy moment to urge once more the suit +of Cassio. + +"Fire and brimstone!" shouted Othello. + +"It may be the letter agitates him," explained Lodovico to Desdemona, +and he told her what it contained. + +"I am glad," said Desdemona. It was the first bitter speech that +Othello's unkindness had wrung out of her. + +"I am glad to see you lose your temper," said Othello. + +"Why, sweet Othello?" she asked, sarcastically; and Othello slapped her +face. + +Now was the time for Desdemona to have saved her life by separation, but +she knew not her peril--only that her love was wounded to the core. "I +have not deserved this," she said, and the tears rolled slowly down her +face. + +Lodovico was shocked and disgusted. "My lord," he said, "this would not +be believed in Venice. Make her amends;" but, like a madman talking in +his nightmare, Othello poured out his foul thought in ugly speech, and +roared, "Out of my sight!" + +"I will not stay to offend you," said his wife, but she lingered even in +going, and only when he shouted "Avaunt!" did she leave her husband and +his guests. + +Othello then invited Lodovico to supper, adding, "You are welcome, sir, +to Cyprus. Goats and monkeys!" Without waiting for a reply he left the +company. + +Distinguished visitors detest being obliged to look on at family +quarrels, and dislike being called either goats or monkeys, and Lodovico +asked Iago for an explanation. + +True to himself, Iago, in a round-about way, said that Othello was worse +than he seemed, and advised them to study his behavior and save him from +the discomfort of answering any more questions. + +He proceeded to tell Roderigo to murder Cassio. Roderigo was out of tune +with his friend. He had given Iago quantities of jewels for Desdemona +without effect; Desdemona had seen none of them, for Iago was a thief. + +Iago smoothed him with a lie, and when Cassio was leaving Bianca's +house, Roderigo wounded him, and was wounded in return. Cassio shouted, +and Lodovico and a friend came running up. Cassio pointed out Roderigo +as his assailant, and Iago, hoping to rid himself of an inconvenient +friend, called him "Villain!" and stabbed him, but not to death. + +At the Castle, Desdemona was in a sad mood. She told Emilia that she +must leave her; her husband wished it. "Dismiss me!" exclaimed Emilia. +"It was his bidding, said Desdemona; we must not displease him now." + +She sang a song which a girl had sung whose lover had been base to +her--a song of a maiden crying by that tree whose boughs droop as though +it weeps, and she went to bed and slept. + +She woke with her husband's wild eyes upon her. "Have you prayed +to-night?" he asked; and he told this blameless and sweet woman to ask +God's pardon for any sin she might have on her conscience. "I would not +kill thy soul," he said. + +He told her that Cassio had confessed, but she knew Cassio had nought to +confess that concerned her. She said that Cassio could not say anything +that would damage her. Othello said his mouth was stopped. + +Then Desdemona wept, but with violent words, in spite of all her +pleading, Othello pressed upon her throat and mortally hurt her. + +Then with boding heart came Emilia, and besought entrance at the door, +and Othello unlocked it, and a voice came from the bed saying, "A +guiltless death I die." + +"Who did it?" cried Emilia; and the voice said, "Nobody--I myself. +Farewell!" + +"'Twas I that killed her," said Othello. + +He poured out his evidence by that sad bed to the people who came +running in, Iago among them; but when he spoke of the handkerchief, +Emilia told the truth. + +And Othello knew. "Are there no stones in heaven but thunderbolts?" he +exclaimed, and ran at Iago, who gave Emilia her death-blow and fled. + +But they brought him back, and the death that came to him later on was a +relief from torture. + +They would have taken Othello back to Venice to try him there, but he +escaped them on his sword. "A word or two before you go," he said to the +Venetians in the chamber. "Speak of me as I was--no better, no worse. +Say I cast away the pearl of pearls, and wept with these hard eyes; and +say that, when in Aleppo years ago I saw a Turk beating a Venetian, I +took him by the throat and smote him thus." + +With his own hand he stabbed himself to the heart; and ere he died his +lips touched the face of Desdemona with despairing love. + + + + +THE TAMING OF THE SHREW + + + +There lived in Padua a gentleman named Baptista, who had two fair +daughters. The eldest, Katharine, was so very cross and ill-tempered, +and unmannerly, that no one ever dreamed of marrying her, while her +sister, Bianca, was so sweet and pretty, and pleasant-spoken, that more +than one suitor asked her father for her hand. But Baptista said the +elder daughter must marry first. + +So Bianca's suitors decided among themselves to try and get some one to +marry Katharine--and then the father could at least be got to listen to +their suit for Bianca. + +A gentleman from Verona, named Petruchio, was the one they thought +of, and, half in jest, they asked him if he would marry Katharine, the +disagreeable scold. Much to their surprise he said yes, that was just +the sort of wife for him, and if Katharine were handsome and rich, he +himself would undertake soon to make her good-tempered. + +Petruchio began by asking Baptista's permission to pay court to his +gentle daughter Katharine--and Baptista was obliged to own that she +was anything but gentle. And just then her music master rushed in, +complaining that the naughty girl had broken her lute over his head, +because he told her she was not playing correctly. + +"Never mind," said Petruchio, "I love her better than ever, and long to +have some chat with her." + +When Katharine came, he said, "Good-morrow, Kate--for that, I hear, is +your name." + +"You've only heard half," said Katharine, rudely. + +"Oh, no," said Petruchio, "they call you plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and +sometimes Kate the shrew, and so, hearing your mildness praised in every +town, and your beauty too, I ask you for my wife." + +"Your wife!" cried Kate. "Never!" She said some extremely disagreeable +things to him, and, I am sorry to say, ended by boxing his ears. + +"If you do that again, I'll cuff you," he said quietly; and still +protested, with many compliments, that he would marry none but her. + +When Baptista came back, he asked at once-- + +"How speed you with my daughter?" + +"How should I speed but well," replied Petruchio--"how, but well?" + +"How now, daughter Katharine?" the father went on. + +"I don't think," said Katharine, angrily, "you are acting a father's +part in wishing me to marry this mad-cap ruffian." + +"Ah!" said Petruchio, "you and all the world would talk amiss of her. +You should see how kind she is to me when we are alone. In short, I will +go off to Venice to buy fine things for our wedding--for--kiss me, Kate! +we will be married on Sunday." + +With that, Katharine flounced out of the room by one door in a violent +temper, and he, laughing, went out by the other. But whether she fell in +love with Petruchio, or whether she was only glad to meet a man who was +not afraid of her, or whether she was flattered that, in spite of her +rough words and spiteful usage, he still desired her for his wife--she +did indeed marry him on Sunday, as he had sworn she should. + +To vex and humble Katharine's naughty, proud spirit, he was late at the +wedding, and when he came, came wearing such shabby clothes that she was +ashamed to be seen with him. His servant was dressed in the same shabby +way, and the horses they rode were the sport of everyone they passed. + +And, after the marriage, when should have been the wedding breakfast, +Petruchio carried his wife away, not allowing her to eat or +drink--saying that she was his now, and he could do as he liked with +her. + +And his manner was so violent, and he behaved all through his wedding in +so mad and dreadful a manner, that Katharine trembled and went with him. +He mounted her on a stumbling, lean, old horse, and they journeyed by +rough muddy ways to Petruchio's house, he scolding and snarling all the +way. + +She was terribly tired when she reached her new home, but Petruchio was +determined that she should neither eat nor sleep that night, for he had +made up his mind to teach his bad-tempered wife a lesson she would never +forget. + +So he welcomed her kindly to his house, but when supper was served +he found fault with everything--the meat was burnt, he said, and +ill-served, and he loved her far too much to let her eat anything but +the best. At last Katharine, tired out with her journey, went supperless +to bed. Then her husband, still telling her how he loved her, and how +anxious he was that she should sleep well, pulled her bed to pieces, +throwing the pillows and bedclothes on the floor, so that she could not +go to bed at all, and still kept growling and scolding at the servants +so that Kate might see how unbeautiful a thing ill-temper was. + +The next day, too, Katharine's food was all found fault with, and caught +away before she could touch a mouthful, and she was sick and giddy for +want of sleep. Then she said to one of the servants-- + +"I pray thee go and get me some repast. I care not what." + +"What say you to a neat's foot?" said the servant. + +Katharine said "Yes," eagerly; but the servant, who was in his master's +secret, said he feared it was not good for hasty-tempered people. Would +she like tripe? + +"Bring it me," said Katharine. + +"I don't think that is good for hasty-tempered people," said the +servant. "What do you say to a dish of beef and mustard?" + +"I love it," said Kate. + +"But mustard is too hot." + +"Why, then, the beef, and let the mustard go," cried Katharine, who was +getting hungrier and hungrier. + +"No," said the servant, "you must have the mustard, or you get no beef +from me." + +"Then," cried Katharine, losing patience, "let it be both, or one, or +anything thou wilt." + +"Why, then," said the servant, "the mustard without the beef!" + +Then Katharine saw he was making fun of her, and boxed his ears. + +Just then Petruchio brought her some food--but she had scarcely begun +to satisfy her hunger, before he called for the tailor to bring her new +clothes, and the table was cleared, leaving her still hungry. Katharine +was pleased with the pretty new dress and cap that the tailor had made +for her, but Petruchio found fault with everything, flung the cap and +gown on the floor vowing his dear wife should not wear any such foolish +things. + +"I will have them," cried Katharine. "All gentlewomen wear such caps as +these--" + +"When you are gentle you shall have one too," he answered, "and not +till then." When he had driven away the tailor with angry words--but +privately asking his friend to see him paid--Petruchio said-- + +"Come, Kate, let's go to your father's, shabby as we are, for as the +sun breaks through the darkest clouds, so honor peereth in the meanest +habit. It is about seven o'clock now. We shall easily get there by +dinner-time." + +"It's nearly two," said Kate, but civilly enough, for she had grown to +see that she could not bully her husband, as she had done her father and +her sister; "it's nearly two, and it will be supper-time before we get +there." + +"It shall be seven," said Petruchio, obstinately, "before I start. Why, +whatever I say or do, or think, you do nothing but contradict. I won't +go to-day, and before I do go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is." + +At last they started for her father's house. + +"Look at the moon," said he. + +"It's the sun," said Katharine, and indeed it was. + +"I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or moon, or +whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your father's." + +Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. "What you will have it named," +she said, "it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine." And so it was, +for from that moment Katharine felt that she had met her master, and +never again showed her naughty tempers to him, or anyone else. + +So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they found +all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another newly +married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made welcome, and sat +down to the feast, and all was merry, save that Hortensio's wife, seeing +Katharine subdued to her husband, thought she could safely say many +disagreeable things, that in the old days, when Katharine was free and +froward, she would not have dared to say. But Katharine answered with +such spirit and such moderation, that she turned the laugh against the +new bride. + +After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a laugh +against Petruchio, saying "Now in good sadness, son Petruchio, I fear +you have got the veriest shrew of all." + +"You are wrong," said Petruchio, "let me prove it to you. Each of us +shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him, and the +one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which we will agree +on." + +The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife the +most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the wager. + +They proposed a wager of twenty crowns. + +"Twenty crowns," said Petruchio, "I'll venture so much on my hawk or +hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife." + +"A hundred then," cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband. + +"Content," cried the others. + +Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come to +him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come. But the +servant coming back, said-- + +"Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come."' + +"There's an answer for you," said Petruchio. + +"You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you a +worse." + +"I hope, better," Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said-- + +"Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once." + +"Oh--if you entreat her," said Petruchio. + +"I am afraid," answered Hortensio, sharply, "do what you can, yours will +not be entreated." + +But now the servant came in, and said-- + +"She says you are playing some jest, she will not come." + +"Better and better," cried Petruchio; "now go to your mistress and say I +command her to come to me." + +They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would be, and +that she would not come. + +Then suddenly Baptista cried-- + +"Here comes Katharine!" And sure enough--there she was. + +"What do you wish, sir?" she asked her husband. + +"Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?" + +"Talking by the parlor fire." + +"Fetch them here." + +When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said-- + +"Here is a wonder!" + +"I wonder what it means," said Hortensio. + +"It means peace," said Petruchio, "and love, and quiet life." + +"Well," said Baptista, "you have won the wager, and I will add +another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for another +daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone else." + +So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving wife +and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit he loved her +well, and there was nothing ever but love between those two. And so they +lived happy ever afterwards. + + + + +MEASURE FOR MEASURE + + + +More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were +governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio was +excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made unhappy. + +The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna +was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his chief +secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided, therefore, +that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was dear to him. He +knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being lax, he would cause +people to call him a tyrant. For this reason he told his Privy Council +that he must go to Poland on important business of state. "I have chosen +Angelo to rule in my absence," said he. + +Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a mean +man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and now would have +nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been lost. So poor Mariana +lived forlornly, waiting every day for the footstep of her stingy lover, +and loving him still. + +Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called +Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the art of +giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to Poland, but to +stay at home and see how Angelo governed. + +Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a young +man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which nowadays would +only be punished by severe reproof. + +Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of +freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would plead +with Angelo. + +Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her heart, +and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun. + +Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate. + +An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. "Let us cut a little, but +not kill," he said. "This gentleman had a most noble father." + +Angelo was unmoved. "If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more mercy +than is in the law." + +Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed at nine +the next morning. + +After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of the +condemned man desired to see him. + +"Admit her," said Angelo. + +On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, "I am a woeful suitor +to your Honor." + +"Well?" said Angelo. + +She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased +the beauty of her face. "I have a brother who is condemned to die," she +continued. "Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare my brother." + +"Every fault," said Angelo, "is condemned before it is committed. A +fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer of a fault +went free." + +She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her, "You +are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted a pin." + +So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, "I will not pardon +him," she was not discouraged, and when he said, "He's sentenced; 'tis +too late," she returned to the assault. But all her fighting was with +reasons, and with reasons she could not prevail over the Deputy. + +She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him that +humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it was good to +have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant. She told him +that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle. She bade him look +for fault in his own breast, and if he found one, to refrain from making +it an argument against her brother's life. + +Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved Isabella's +beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he would not do for +the love of man. + +He appeared to relent, for he said, "Come to me to-morrow before noon." + +She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life for a +few hours.' + +In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with his +judicial duty. + +When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, "Your brother +cannot live." + +Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, "Even so. +Heaven keep your Honor." + +But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were slight +in comparison with the loss of her. + +"Give me your love," he said, "and Claudio shall be freed." + +"Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to lay +upon the block," said Isabella, for she saw then that he was not the +just man he pretended to be. + +So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must die. +At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness of death. +But when he clearly understood that his sister could buy his life by +marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable than her happiness, and +he exclaimed, "Sweet sister, let me live." + +"O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!" she cried. + +At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to +request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar Lodowick. + +The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose +love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan. Let +Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to Angelo, and say, +in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio were spared she would +marry him. Let her take the ring from Angelo's little finger, that it +might be afterwards proved that his visitor was Mariana. + +Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as nearly +like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the Duke's plan. They +were to meet again at the moated grange, Mariana's house. + +In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like a +friar, called out, "What news of the Duke, friar?" "I have none," said +the Duke. + +Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told one +about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked, and +called the Duke "a shallow, ignorant fool," though he pretended to love +him. "The Duke shall know you better if I live to report you," said the +Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw in the street, what he +thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who imagined he was speaking to a +friar, replied, "The Duke is a very temperate gentleman, who prefers to +see another merry to being merry himself." + +The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana. + +Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced the +two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar. They +went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of Claudio, and +while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke looked out of the +window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds black with moss, which +betrayed Mariana's indifference to her country dwelling. Some women +would have beautified their garden: not she. She was for the town; she +neglected the joys of the country. He was sure that Angelo would not +make her unhappier. + +"We are agreed, father," said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana. + +So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his love, +and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a milky stone +which flashed in the light with secret colors. + +Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared +to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had not, +however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he waited. His +amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these words, "Whatsoever +you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the +clock. Let me have his head sent me by five." + +But the Duke said to the Provost, "You must show the Deputy another +head," and he held out a letter and a signet. "Here," he said, "are the +hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you, and Angelo knows +it not. Give Angelo another head." + +The Provost thought, "This friar speaks with power. I know the Duke's +signet and I know his hand." + +He said at length, "A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of the +age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his head." + +The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by its +resemblance to Claudio's. + +The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city +gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo and +Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised for their +conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence. + +It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella, +passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and cried +for justice. + +When her story was told, the Duke cried, "To prison with her for a +slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come here?" + +"Friar Lodowick," said she. + +"Who knows him?" inquired the Duke. + +"I do, my lord," replied Lucio. "I beat him because he spake against +your Grace." + +A friar called Peter here said, "Friar Lodowick is a holy man." + +Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She took +off her veil, and said to Angelo, "This is the face you once swore was +worth looking on." + +Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, "This is the hand +which wears the ring you thought to give another." + +"I know the woman," said Angelo. "Once there was talk of marriage +between us, but I found her frivolous." + +Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest vows. +Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production of Friar +Lodowick. + +"He shall appear," promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the +missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere. + +Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick, and +accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much examined as +abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to deny, if he dared, +that he called the Duke a fool and a coward, and had had his nose pulled +for his impudence. + +"To prison with him!" shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon him, +the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before them all. + +"Now," he said to Angelo, "if you have any impudence that can yet serve +you, work it for all it's worth." + +"Immediate sentence and death is all I beg," was the reply. + +"Were you affianced to Mariana?" asked the Duke. + +"I was," said Angelo. + +"Then marry her instantly," said his master. "Marry them," he said to +Friar Peter, "and return with them here." + +"Come hither, Isabel," said the Duke, in tender tones. "Your friar is +now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your brother;" but +well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him. + +"O pardon me," she cried, "that I employed my Sovereign in my trouble." + +"You are pardoned," he said, gaily. + +At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. "And now, Angelo," said +the Duke, gravely, "we condemn thee to the block on which Claudio laid +his head!" + +"O my most gracious lord," cried Mariana, "mock me not!" + +"You shall buy a better husband," said the Duke. + +"O my dear lord," said she, "I crave no better man." + +Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned +inflexibility. + +"Provost," he said, "how came it that Claudio as executed at an unusual +hour?" + +Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost said, +"I had a private message." + +"You are discharged from your office," said the Duke. The Provost then +departed. Angelo said, "I am sorry to have caused such sorrow. I prefer +death to mercy." Soon there was a motion in the crowd. The Provost +re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big child the Provost said, "I +saved this man; he is like Claudio." The Duke was amused, and said to +Isabella, "I pardon him because he is like your brother. He is like my +brother, too, if you, dear Isabel, will be mine." + +She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted the +Provost. + +Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue. + + + + +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA + + + +Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later. +Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and lived +at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy in his name +because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it is hard for a +Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy in his name, because +it was that of a famous shape-changer, and therefore it encouraged him +to be a lover at one time and a traitor at another. + +One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan. "I'm +not in love like you," said he, "and therefore I don't want to stay at +home." + +Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called Julia, +who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was, however, sorry +to part from Valentine, and he said, "If ever you are in danger tell me, +and I will pray for you." Valentine then went to Milan with a servant +called Speed, and at Milan he fell in love with the Duke of Milan's +daughter, Silvia. + +When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that she +loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his letters in +the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however, was no simpleton, +for when she saw the pieces she said to herself, "All she wants is to be +annoyed by another letter." Indeed, no sooner had Lucetta left her alone +than Julia repented of her tearing, and placed between her dress and her +heart the torn piece of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So +by tearing a letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved +him. Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, "Be patient, +and you shall marry me." + +Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's +letter and talking to himself. + +"What have you got there?" asked his father, Antonio. + +"A letter from Valentine," fibbed Proteus. + +"Let me read it," said Antonio. + +"There is no news," said deceitful Proteus; "he only says that he is +very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he wishes I +were with him." + +This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should go +to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. "You must go +to-morrow," he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. "Give me time to get my +outfit ready." He was met with the promise, "What you need shall be sent +after you." + +It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement was two +days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, "Keep this for my sake," and +he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who intend to be true till +death. Then Proteus departed for Milan. + +Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing at him +under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she told him that +she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman whom she thought well +of, but had no time: would he write it? Very much did Valentine dislike +writing that letter, but he did write it, and gave it to her coldly. +"Take it back," she said; "you did it unwillingly." + +"Madam," he said, "it was difficult to write such a letter for you." + +"Take it back," she commanded; "you did not write tenderly enough." + +Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another; +but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had allowed +Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's own self. "The +joke," he said, "is as invisible as a weather-cock on a steeple." He +meant that it was very plain; and he went on to say exactly what it was: +"If master will write her love-letters, he must answer them." + +On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia and +afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how his love +for Julia was prospering. + +"Why," said Proteus, "you used to get wearied when I spoke of her." + +"Aye," confessed Valentine, "but it's different now. I can eat and drink +all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in my cup." + +"You idolize Silvia," said Proteus. + +"She is divine," said Valentine. + +"Come, come!" remonstrated Proteus. + +"Well, if she's not divine," said Valentine, "she is the queen of all +women on earth." + +"Except Julia," said Proteus. + +"Dear boy," said Valentine, "Julia is not excepted; but I will grant +that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train." + +"Your bragging astounds me," said Proteus. + +But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired +Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain without +delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--"I to myself +am dearer than my friend." + +It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed, by +the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body at the +evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia. But his body did +not change; his smile was still affectionate, and Valentine confided to +him the great secret that Silvia had now promised to run away with him. +"In the pocket of this cloak," said Valentine, "I have a silken rope +ladder, with hooks which will clasp the window-bar of her room." + +Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on flight. +The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly noodle for whom +she did not care a straw. + +Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make +Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring +Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke, and said, +"Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my friend Valentine, +but your Grace should know that he intends to-night to elope with your +Grace's daughter." He begged the Duke not to tell Valentine the giver +of this information, and the Duke assured him that his name would not be +divulged. + +Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him wearing +a large cloak with a bulging pocket. + +"You know," said the Duke, "my desire to marry my daughter to Sir +Thurio?" + +"I do," replied Valentine. "He is virtuous and generous, as befits a man +so honored in your Grace's thoughts." + +"Nevertheless she dislikes him," said the Duke. "She is a peevish, +proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a penny. I +intend, therefore, to marry again." + +Valentine bowed. + +"I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love," continued the +Duke, "and I thought that you would be just the man to teach me how to +win the lady of my choice." + +"Jewels have been known to plead rather well," said Valentine. + +"I have tried them," said the Duke. + +"The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her some +more." + +"The chief difficulty," pursued the Duke, "is this. The lady is promised +to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with her. She is, in +fact, locked up." + +"Then your Grace should propose an elopement," said Valentine. "Try a +rope ladder." + +"But how should I carry it?" asked the Duke. + +"A rope ladder is light," said Valentine; "You can carry it in a cloak." + +"Like yours?" + +"Yes, your Grace." + +"Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me." + +Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to lend +his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew from the +pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly opened it, and +read these words: "Silvia, you shall be free to-night." + +"Indeed," he said, "and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived, but +not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions. If you are +in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die." + +Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. "Unless I look on Silvia in the +day," he said, "there is no day for me to look upon." + +Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite of +the first order. "Hope is a lover's staff," said Valentine's betrayer; +"walk hence with that." + +After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a forest +near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the forest, however, +the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the travelers stand. They +obeyed, and Valentine made so good an impression upon his captors that +they offered him his life on condition that he became their captain. + +"I accept," said Valentine, "provided you release my servant, and are +not violent to women or the poor." + +The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand chief. + +We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since +Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by which +she could see him. "Better wait for him to return," said Lucetta, and +she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to hope that Lucetta +would bear the blame of any rash and interesting adventure. Julia +therefore said that she intended to go to Milan and dressed like a page. + +"You must cut off your hair then," said Lucetta, who thought that at +this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme. + +"I shall knot it up," was the disappointing rejoinder. + +Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but Julia +had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule; and when her +toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as one could wish to +see. + +Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time to +hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace. + +"They are serenading the Lady Silvia," said a man to her. + +Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice. It +was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing? + + "Who is Silvia? what is she, + That all our swains commend her? + Holy, fair, and wise is she; + The heaven such grace did lend her + That she might admired be." + +Julia tried not to hear the rest, but these two lines somehow thundered +into her mind-- + + "Then to Silvia let us sing; + She excels each mortal thing." + +Then Proteus thought Silvia excelled Julia; and, since he sang so +beautifully for all the world to hear, it seemed that he was not only +false to Julia, but had forgotten her. Yet Julia still loved him. She +even went to him, and asked to be his page, and Proteus engaged her. + +One day, he handed to her the ring which she had given him, and said, +"Sebastian, take that to the Lady Silvia, and say that I should like the +picture of her she promised me." + +Silvia had promised the picture, but she disliked Proteus. She was +obliged to talk to him because he was high in the favor of her father, +who thought he pleaded with her on behalf of Sir Thurio. Silvia had +learned from Valentine that Proteus was pledged to a sweetheart in +Verona; and when he said tender things to her, she felt that he was +disloyal in friendship as well as love. + +Julia bore the ring to Silvia, but Silvia said, "I will not wrong the +woman who gave it him by wearing it." + +"She thanks you," said Julia. + +"You know her, then?" said Silvia, and Julia spoke so tenderly of +herself that Silvia wished that Sebastian would marry Julia. + +Silvia gave Julia her portrait for Proteus, who would have received it +the worse for extra touches on the nose and eyes if Julia had not made +up her mind that she was as pretty as Silvia. + +Soon there was an uproar in the palace. Silvia had fled. + +The Duke was certain that her intention was to join the exiled +Valentine, and he was not wrong. + +Without delay he started in pursuit, with Sir Thurio, Proteus, and some +servants. + +The members of the pursuing party got separated, and Proteus and Julia +(in her page's dress) were by themselves when they saw Silvia, who had +been taken prisoner by outlaws and was now being led to their Captain. +Proteus rescued her, and then said, "I have saved you from death; give +me one kind look." + +"O misery, to be helped by you!" cried Silvia. "I would rather be a +lion's breakfast." + +Julia was silent, but cheerful. Proteus was so much annoyed with Silvia +that he threatened her, and seized her by the waist. + +"O heaven!" cried Silvia. + +At that instant there was a noise of crackling branches. Valentine came +crashing through the Mantuan forest to the rescue of his beloved. Julia +feared he would slay Proteus, and hurried to help her false lover. But +he struck no blow, he only said, "Proteus, I am sorry I must never trust +you more." + +Thereat Proteus felt his guilt, and fell on his knees, saying, "Forgive +me! I grieve! I suffer!" + +"Then you are my friend once more," said the generous Valentine. "If +Silvia, that is lost to me, will look on you with favor, I promise that +I will stand aside and bless you both." + +These words were terrible to Julia, and she swooned. Valentine revived +her, and said, "What was the matter, boy?" + +"I remembered," fibbed Julia, "that I was charged to give a ring to the +Lady Silvia, and that I did not." + +"Well, give it to me," said Proteus. + +She handed him a ring, but it was the ring that Proteus gave to Julia +before he left Verona. + +Proteus looked at her hand, and crimsoned to the roots of his hair. + +"I changed my shape when you changed your mind," said she. + +"But I love you again," said he. + +Just then outlaws entered, bringing two prizes--the Duke and Sir Thurio. + +"Forbear!" cried Valentine, sternly. "The Duke is sacred." + +Sir Thurio exclaimed, "There's Silvia; she's mine!" + +"Touch her, and you die!" said Valentine. + +"I should be a fool to risk anything for her," said Sir Thurio. + +"Then you are base," said the Duke. "Valentine, you are a brave man. +Your banishment is over. I recall you. You may marry Silvia. You deserve +her." + +"I thank your Grace," said Valentine, deeply moved, "and yet must ask +you one more boon." + +"I grant it," said the Duke. + +"Pardon these men, your Grace, and give them employment. They are better +than their calling." + +"I pardon them and you," said the Duke. "Their work henceforth shall be +for wages." + +"What think you of this page, your Grace?" asked Valentine, indicating +Julia. + +The Duke glanced at her, and said, "I think the boy has grace in him." + +"More grace than boy, say I," laughed Valentine, and the only punishment +which Proteus had to bear for his treacheries against love and +friendship was the recital in his presence of the adventures of +Julia-Sebastian of Verona. + + + + +ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL + + + +In the year thirteen hundred and something, the Countess of Rousillon +was unhappy in her palace near the Pyrenees. She had lost her husband, +and the King of France had summoned her son Bertram to Paris, hundreds +of miles away. + +Bertram was a pretty youth with curling hair, finely arched eyebrows, +and eyes as keen as a hawk's. He was as proud as ignorance could make +him, and would lie with a face like truth itself to gain a selfish end. +But a pretty youth is a pretty youth, and Helena was in love with him. + +Helena was the daughter of a great doctor who had died in the service +of the Count of Rousillon. Her sole fortune consisted in a few of her +father's prescriptions. + +When Bertram had gone, Helena's forlorn look was noticed by the +Countess, who told her that she was exactly the same to her as her +own child. Tears then gathered in Helena's eyes, for she felt that the +Countess made Bertram seem like a brother whom she could never marry. +The Countess guessed her secret forthwith, and Helena confessed that +Bertram was to her as the sun is to the day. + +She hoped, however, to win this sun by earning the gratitude of the King +of France, who suffered from a lingering illness, which made him lame. +The great doctors attached to the Court despaired of curing him, but +Helena had confidence in a prescription which her father had used with +success. + +Taking an affectionate leave of the Countess, she went to Paris, and was +allowed to see the King. + +He was very polite, but it was plain he thought her a quack. "It would +not become me," he said, "to apply to a simple maiden for the relief +which all the learned doctors cannot give me." + +"Heaven uses weak instruments sometimes," said Helena, and she declared +that she would forfeit her life if she failed to make him well. + +"And if you succeed?" questioned the King. + +"Then I will ask your Majesty to give me for a husband the man whom I +choose!" + +So earnest a young lady could not be resisted forever by a suffering +king. Helena, therefore, became the King's doctor, and in two days the +royal cripple could skip. + +He summoned his courtiers, and they made a glittering throng in the +throne room of his palace. Well might the country girl have been +dazzled, and seen a dozen husbands worth dreaming of among the handsome +young noblemen before her. But her eyes only wandered till they found +Bertram. Then she went up to him, and said, "I dare not say I take you, +but I am yours!" Raising her voice that the King might hear, she added, +"This is the Man!" + +"Bertram," said the King, "take her; she's your wife!" + +"My wife, my liege?" said Bertram. "I beg your Majesty to permit me to +choose a wife." + +"Do you know, Bertram, what she has done for your King?" asked the +monarch, who had treated Bertram like a son. + +"Yes, your Majesty," replied Bertram; "but why should I marry a girl who +owes her breeding to my father's charity?" + +"You disdain her for lacking a title, but I can give her a title," said +the King; and as he looked at the sulky youth a thought came to him, and +he added, "Strange that you think so much of blood when you could not +distinguish your own from a beggar's if you saw them mixed together in a +bowl." + +"I cannot love her," asserted Bertram; and Helena said gently, "Urge +him not, your Majesty. I am glad to have cured my King for my country's +sake." + +"My honor requires that scornful boy's obedience," said the King. +"Bertram, make up your mind to this. You marry this lady, of whom you +are so unworthy, or you learn how a king can hate. Your answer?" + +Bertram bowed low and said, "Your Majesty has ennobled the lady by your +interest in her. I submit." + +"Take her by the band," said the King, "and tell her she is yours." + +Bertram obeyed, and with little delay he was married to Helena. + +Fear of the King, however, could not make him a lover. Ridicule helped +to sour him. A base soldier named Parolles told him to his face that +now he had a "kicky-wicky" his business was not to fight but to stay +at home. "Kicky-wicky" was only a silly epithet for a wife, but it made +Bertram feel he could not bear having a wife, and that he must go to the +war in Italy, though the King had forbidden him. + +Helena he ordered to take leave of the King and return to Rousillon, +giving her letters for his mother and herself. He then rode off, bidding +her a cold good-bye. + +She opened the letter addressed to herself, and read, "When you can get +the ring from my finger you can call me husband, but against that 'when' +I write 'never.'" + +Dry-eyed had Helena been when she entered the King's presence and said +farewell, but he was uneasy on her account, and gave her a ring from +his own finger, saying, "If you send this to me, I shall know you are in +trouble, and help you." + +She did not show him Bertram's letter to his wife; it would have made +him wish to kill the truant Count; but she went back to Rousillon and +handed her mother-in-law the second letter. It was short and bitter. "I +have run away," it said. "If the world be broad enough, I will be always +far away from her." + +"Cheer up," said the noble widow to the deserted wife. "I wash his name +out of my blood, and you alone are my child." + +The Dowager Countess, however, was still mother enough to Bertram to lay +the blame of his conduct on Parolles, whom she called "a very tainted +fellow." + +Helena did not stay long at Rousillon. She clad herself as a pilgrim, +and, leaving a letter for her mother-in-law, secretly set out for +Florence. + +On entering that city she inquired of a woman the way to the Pilgrims' +House of Rest, but the woman begged "the holy pilgrim" to lodge with +her. + +Helena found that her hostess was a widow, who had a beautiful daughter +named Diana. + +When Diana heard that Helena came from France, she said, "A countryman +of yours, Count Rousillon, has done worthy service for Florence." But +after a time, Diana had something to tell which was not at all worthy of +Helena's husband. Bertram was making love to Diana. He did not hide the +fact that he was married, but Diana heard from Parolles that his wife +was not worth caring for. + +The widow was anxious for Diana's sake, and Helena decided to inform her +that she was the Countess Rousillon. + +"He keeps asking Diana for a lock of her hair," said the widow. + +Helena smiled mournfully, for her hair was as fine as Diana's and of the +same color. Then an idea struck her, and she said, "Take this purse of +gold for yourself. I will give Diana three thousand crowns if she will +help me to carry out this plan. Let her promise to give a lock of her +hair to my husband if he will give her the ring which he wears on his +finger. It is an ancestral ring. Five Counts of Rousillon have worn it, +yet he will yield it up for a lock of your daughter's hair. Let your +daughter insist that he shall cut the lock of hair from her in a dark +room, and agree in advance that she shall not speak a single word." + +The widow listened attentively, with the purse of gold in her lap. She +said at last, "I consent, if Diana is willing." + +Diana was willing, and, strange to say, the prospect of cutting off +a lock of hair from a silent girl in a dark room was so pleasing to +Bertram that he handed Diana his ring, and was told when to follow her +into the dark room. At the time appointed he came with a sharp knife, +and felt a sweet face touch his as he cut off the lock of hair, and he +left the room satisfied, like a man who is filled with renown, and on +his finger was a ring which the girl in the dark room had given him. + +The war was nearly over, but one of its concluding chapters taught +Bertram that the soldier who had been impudent enough to call Helena his +"kicky-wicky" was far less courageous than a wife. Parolles was such +a boaster, and so fond of trimings to his clothes, that the French +officers played him a trick to discover what he was made of. He had lost +his drum, and had said that he would regain it unless he was killed in +the attempt. His attempt was a very poor one, and he was inventing the +story of a heroic failure, when he was surrounded and disarmed. + +"Portotartarossa," said a French lord. + +"What horrible lingo is this?" thought Parolles, who had been +blindfolded. + +"He's calling for the tortures," said a French man, affecting to act as +interpreter. "What will you say without 'em?" + +"As much," replied Parolles, "as I could possibly say if you pinched me +like a pasty." He was as good as his word. He told them how many there +were in each regiment of the Florentine army, and he refreshed them with +spicy anecdotes of the officers commanding it. + +Bertram was present, and heard a letter read, in which Parolles told +Diana that he was a fool. + +"This is your devoted friend," said a French lord. + +"He is a cat to me now," said Bertram, who detested our hearthrug pets. + +Parolles was finally let go, but henceforth he felt like a sneak, and +was not addicted to boasting. + +We now return to France with Helena, who had spread a report of her +death, which was conveyed to the Dowager Countess at Rousillon by Lafeu, +a lord who wished to marry his daughter Magdalen to Bertram. + +The King mourned for Helena, but he approved of the marriage proposed +for Bertram, and paid a visit to Rousillon in order to see it +accomplished. + +"His great offense is dead," he said. "Let Bertram approach me." + +Then Bertram, scarred in the cheek, knelt before his Sovereign, and said +that if he had not loved Lafeu's daughter before he married Helena, he +would have prized his wife, whom he now loved when it was too late. + +"Love that is late offends the Great Sender," said the King. "Forget +sweet Helena, and give a ring to Magdalen." + +Bertram immediately gave a ring to Lafeu, who said indignantly, "It's +Helena's!" + +"It's not!" said Bertram. + +Hereupon the King asked to look at the ring, and said, "This is the ring +I gave to Helena, and bade her send to me if ever she needed help. So +you had the cunning to get from her what could help her most." + +Bertram denied again that the ring was Helena's, but even his mother +said it was. + +"You lie!" exclaimed the King. "Seize him, guards!" but even while they +were seizing him, Bertram wondered how the ring, which he thought Diana +had given him, came to be so like Helena's. A gentleman now entered, +craving permission to deliver a petition to the King. It was a petition +signed Diana Capilet, and it begged that the King would order Bertram to +marry her whom he had deserted after winning her love. + +"I'd sooner buy a son-in-law at a fair than take Bertram now," said +Lafeu. + +"Admit the petitioner," said the King. + +Bertram found himself confronted by Diana and her mother. He denied +that Diana had any claim on him, and spoke of her as though her life was +spent in the gutter. But she asked him what sort of gentlewoman it +was to whom he gave, as to her he gave, the ring of his ancestors now +missing from his finger? + +Bertram was ready to sink into the earth, but fate had one crowning +generosity reserved for him. Helena entered. + +"Do I see reality?" asked the King. + +"O pardon! pardon!" cried Bertram. + +She held up his ancestral ring. "Now that I have this," said she, "will +you love me, Bertram?" + +"To the end of my life," cried he. + +"My eyes smell onions," said Lafeu. Tears for Helena were twinkling in +them. + +The King praised Diana when he was fully informed by that not very shy +young lady of the meaning of her conduct. For Helena's sake she had +wished to expose Bertram's meanness, not only to the King, but to +himself. His pride was now in shreds, and it is believed that he made a +husband of some sort after all. + + + + +PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY OF NAMES. + + + + [Key.-- + + a,e,i,o,u -- as in hat, bet, it, hot, hut; + â,ê,î,ô,û -- as in ate, mote, mite, mote, mute; + å -- as in America, freeman, coward; + ë -- as in her, fern; + ü -- as in burn, furl. ] + + Adriana (ad-ri-â'-nå) + AEgeon (ê'-ge-on) + AEmilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Alcibiades (al-si-bî'-å-dêz) + Aliena (â-li-ê'-nå) + Angelo (an'-je-lô) + Antioch (an'-ti-ok) + Antiochus (an-tî'-o-kus) + Antipholus (an-tif'-o-lus) + Antonio (an-tô'-ni-ô) + Apemantus (ap-e-man'-tus) + Apollo (å-pol'-ô) + Ariel (â'ri-el) + Arragon (ar'-å-gon) + + Banquo (ban'-kwô) + Baptista (bap-tis'-tå) + Bassanio (bas-sa'-ni-ô) + Beatrice (bê'å-tris) + Bellario (bel-lâ'-ri-ô) + Bellarius (bel-lâ'-ri-us) + Benedick (ben'-e-dik) + Benvolio (ben-vô'-li-ô) + Bertram (bër'-tram) + Bianca (bê-an'-kå) + Borachio (bô-rach'-i-ô) + Brabantio (brå-ban'chô) + Burgundy (bür'-gun-di) + + Caliban (kal'-i-ban) + Camillo (kå-mil'-ô) + Capulet (kap'-û-let) + Cassio (kas'-i-ô) + Celia (sê'-li-å) + Centaur (sen'-tawr) + Cerimon (sê'-ri-mon) + Cesario (se-sâ'-ri-ô) + Claudio (klaw'-di-ô) + Claudius (klaw'-di-us) + Cordelia (kawr-dê'-li-å) + Cornwall (kawrn'-wawl) + Cymbeline (sim'-be-lên) + + Demetrius (de-mê'-tri-us) + Desdemona (des-de-mô-nå) + Diana (dî-an'-å) + Dionyza (dî-ô-nî'-zå) + Donalbain (don'-al-ban) + Doricles (dor'-i-klêz) + Dromio (drô'-mi-ô) + Duncan (dung'-kån) + + Emilia (ê-mil'-i-å) + Ephesus (ef'e-sus) + Escalus (es'-kå-lus) + + Ferdinand (fër'-di-nand) + Flaminius (flå-min'-i-us) + Flavius (flâ'-vi-us) + Fleance (flê'-ans) + Florizel (flor'-i-zel) + + Ganymede (gan'-i-mêd) + Giulio (jû'-li-ô) + Goneril (gon'-e-ril) + Gonzalo (gon-zah'-lô) + + Helena (hel'-e-nå) + Helicanus (hel-i-kâ'nus) + Hercules (hër'kû-lêz) + Hermia (hër'mi-å) + Hermione (hër-mî'-o-nê) + Horatio (hô-râ'-shi-ô) + Hortensio (hor-ten'-si-ô) + + Iachimo (yak'-i-mô) + Iago (ê-ah-gô) + Illyria ((il-lir'-i-å) + Imogen (im'-o-jen) + + Jessica (jes'-i-kå) + Juliet (ju'li-et) + + Laertes (lâ-ër'-têz) + Lafeu (lah-fu') + Lear (lêr) + Leodovico (lê-ô-dô'-vi-kô) + Leonato (lê-ô-nâ'-tô) + Leontes (lê-on-têz) + Luciana (lû-shi-â'nå) + Lucio (lû'-shi-ô) + Lucius (lû'-shi-us) + Lucullus (lû-kul'-us) + Lysander (lî-san'-dër) + Lysimachus (lî-sim'-å-kus) + + Macbeth (mak-beth') + Magdalen (mag'-då-len) + Malcolm (mal'-kum) + Malvolio (mal-vô'li-ô) + Mantua (man-'tû-å) + Mariana (mah-ri-â'-na) + Menaphon (men'-å-fon) + Mercutio (mer-kû'-shi-ô) + Messina (mes-sê'-nah) + Milan (mil'-ån) + Miranda (mî-ran'-då) + Mitylene (mit-ê-lê'-nê) + Montagu (mon'-tå-gû) + Montano (mon-tah'-nô) + + Oberon (ob'-ër-on) + Olivia (ô-liv'-i-å) + Ophelia (ô-fêl'-i-å or o-fêl'-yå) + Orlando (awr-lan'-dô) + Orsino (awr-sê'-nô) + Othello (ô-thel'-ô) + + Parolles (pa-rol'-êz) + Paulina (paw-lî'-nå) + Pentapolis (pen-tap'-o-lis) + Perdita (për'-di-tå) + Pericles (per'-i-klêz) + Petruchio (pe-trû'-chi-ô) + Phoenix (fê'-niks) + Pisanio (pê-sah'-ni-ô) + Polixines (pô-liks'-e-nêz) + Polonius (pô-lô'-ni-us) + Portia (pôr'-shi-å) + Proteus (prô'-te-us or prô'-tûs) + + Regan (rê'-gån) + Roderigo (rô-der'-i-gô) + Romano (rô-mah'-nô) + Romeo (rô'-me-ô) + Rosalind (roz'-å-lind) + Rosaline (roz'-å-lin) + Rousillon (ru-sê-lyawng') + + Sebastian (se-bas'-ti-ån) + Sempronius (sem-prô'-ni-us) + Simonides (si-mon'-i-dêz) + Solinus (sô-lî'-nus) + Sycorax (sî'-ko-raks) + Syracuse (sir-å-kus) + + Thaisa (tha-is'-å) + Thaliard (thâ'-li-ård) + Thurio (thû'-ri-ô) + Timon (tî'-mon) + Titania (tî-tan'-i-å) + Tybalt (tib'-ålt) + + Ursula (ur'-sû-lå) + + Venetian (ve-nê'-shån) + Venice (ven'-is) + Ventidius (ven-tid'-i-us) + Verona (vâ-rô'-nå) + Vicentio (vê-sen'-shi-ô) + + + + + +QUOTATIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE + + + +ACTION. + + Action is eloquence, and the eyes of the ignorant + More learned than their ears. + + Coriolanus -- III. 2. + + + + +ADVERSITY. + + Sweet are the uses of adversity, + Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, + Wears yet a precious jewel in his head. + + As You Like It -- II. 1. + + + That, Sir, which serves and seeks for gain, + And follows but for form, + Will pack, when it begins to rain, + And leave thee in the storm. + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, + The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: + Feast won--fast lost; one cloud of winter showers, + These flies are couched. + + Timon of Athens -- II. 2. + + + + + +ADVICE TO A SON LEAVING HOME. + + Give thy thoughts no tongue, + Nor any unproportioned thought his act + Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. + The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried + Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel; + But do not dull thy palm with entertainment + Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware + Of entrance to a quarrel: but, being in, + Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. + Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: + Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment, + Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, + But not expressed in fancy: rich, not gaudy: + For the apparel oft proclaims the man; + And they in France, of the best rank and station, + Are most select and generous, chief in that. + Neither a borrower, nor a lender be: + For loan oft loses both itself and friend; + And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. + This above all.--To thine ownself be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + + Hamlet -- I. 3. + + + + +AGE. + + My May of life Is + fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: + And that which should accompany old age, + As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, + I must not look to have; but, in their stead, + Curses not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath, + Which the poor heart would feign deny, but dare not. + + Macbeth -- V. 3. + + + + +AMBITION. + + Dreams, indeed, are ambition; for the very substance of + the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I + hold ambition of so airy and light a quality, that it is but + a shadow's shadow. + + Hamlet -- II 2. + + + I charge thee fling away ambition; + By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, + The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't? + Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; + Corruption wins not more than honesty. + Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, + To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not! + Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +ANGER. + + Anger is like + A full-hot horse, who being allowed his way, + Self-mettle tires him. + + King Henry VIII. -- I. 1. + + + + +ARROGANCE. + + There are a sort of men, whose visages + Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, + And do a willful stillness entertain, + With purpose to be dressed in an opinion + Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, + As who should say, "I am Sir Oracle, + And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!" + O! my Antonio, I do know of these + That therefore are reputed wise + For saying nothing, when, I am sure, + If they should speak, would almost dam those ears, + Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +AUTHORITY. + + Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? + And the creature run from the cur? + There thou might'st behold the great image of authority + a dog's obeyed in office. + + King Lear -- IV. 6. + + + Could great men thunder + As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, + For every pelting, petty officer + Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder-- + Merciful heaven! + Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, + Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, + Than the soft myrtle!--O, but man, proud man! + Drest in a little brief authority -- + Most ignorant of what he's most assured, + His glassy essence,--like an angry ape, + Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, + As make the angels weep. + + Measure for Measure -- II. 2. + + + +BEAUTY. + + The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the + goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; + but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body + of it ever fair. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + + +BLESSINGS UNDERVALUED. + + It so falls out + That what we have we prize not to the worth, + Whiles we enjoy it; but being lacked and lost, + Why, then we rack the value; then we find + The virtue, that possession would not show us + Whiles it was ours. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- IV. 1. + + + + +BRAGGARTS. + + It will come to pass, + That every braggart shall be found an ass. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 3. + + + They that have the voice of lions, and the act of bares, + are they not monsters? + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +CALUMNY. + + Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, + thou shalt not escape calumny. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + No might nor greatness in mortality + Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny + The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong, + Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? + + Measure for Measure -- III. 2. + + + + +CEREMONY. + + Ceremony + Was but devised at first, to set a gloss + On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. + Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; + But where there is true friendship, there needs none. + + Timon of Athens -- I. 2. + + + + +COMFORT. + + Men + Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief + Which they themselves not feel; but tasting it, + Their counsel turns to passion, which before + Would give preceptial medicine to rage, + Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, + Charm ache with air, and agony with words: + No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience + To those that wring under the load of sorrow; + But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, + To be so moral, when he shall endure + The like himself. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Well, every one can master a grief, but he that has it. + + Idem -- II. + + + + +COMPARISON. + + When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. + So doth the greater glory dim the less; + A substitute shines brightly as a king, + Until a king be by; and then his state + Empties itself, as does an inland brook + Into the main of waters. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +CONSCIENCE. + + Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; + And thus the native hue of resolution + Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; + And enterprises of great pith and moment, + With this regard, their currents turn awry, + And lose the name of action. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENT. + + My crown is in my heart, not on my head; + Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, + Nor to be seen; my crown is called "content;" + A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d - III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTION. + + How, in one house, + Should many people, under two commands, + Hold amity? + + King Lear -- II. 4. + + + When two authorities are set up, + Neither supreme, how soon confusion + May enter twixt the gap of both, and take + The one by the other. + + Coriolanus -- III. 1. + + + + +CONTENTMENT. + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + King Henry VIII. -- II. 3. + + + + +COWARDS. + + Cowards die many times before their deaths; + The valiant never taste of death but once. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + + +CUSTOM. + + That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat + Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this: + That to the use of actions fair and good + He likewise gives a frock, or livery, + That aptly is put on: Refrain to-night: + And that shall lend a kind of easiness + To the next abstinence: the next more easy: + For use almost can change the stamp of nature, + And either curb the devil, or throw him out + With wondrous potency. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + A custom + More honored in the breach, then the observance. + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +DEATH. + + Kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; + For that's the end of human misery. + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- III. 2. + + + Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, + It seems to me most strange that men should fear; + Seeing that death, a necessary end, + Will come, when it will come. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The dread of something after death, + Makes us rather bear those ills we have, + Than fly to others we know not of. + + Hamlet -- III. 1. + + + The sense of death is most in apprehension. + + Measure for Measure -- III. 1. + + + By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death + Will seize the doctor too. + + Cymbeline -- V. 5. + + + + +DECEPTION. + + The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. + An evil soul, producing holy witness, + Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; + A goodly apple rotten at the heart; + O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 3. + + + + +DEEDS. + + Foul deeds will rise, + Though all the earth o'erwhelm them to men's eyes. + + Hamlet -- I. 2. + + + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, + Makes deeds ill done! + + King John -- IV. 2. + + + + +DELAY. + + That we would do, + We should do when we would; for this would changes, + And hath abatements and delays as many, + As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents; + And then this should is like a spendthrift sigh, + That hurts by easing. + + Hamlet -- IV. 7. + + + + +DELUSION. + + For love of grace, + Lay not that flattering unction to your soul; + It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; + Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, + Infects unseen. + + Hamlet -- III. 4. + + + + +DISCRETION. + + Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, + Not to outsport discretion. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +DOUBTS AND FEARS. + + I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in + To saucy doubts and fears. + + Macbeth -- III. 4. + + + + +DRUNKENNESS. + + Boundless intemperance. + In nature is a tyranny; it hath been + Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne, + And fall of many kings. + + Measure for Measure -- I. 3. + + + + +DUTY OWING TO OURSELVES AND OTHERS. + + 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 checked for silence, + But never taxed for speech. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +EQUIVOCATION. + + But yet + I do not like but yet, it does allay + The good precedence; fye upon but yet: + But yet is as a gailer to bring forth + Some monstrous malefactor. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +EXCESS. + + A surfeit of the sweetest things + The deepest loathing to the stomach brings. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- II. 3. + + + Every inordinate cup is unblessed, + and the ingredient is a devil. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +FALSEHOOD. + + Falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent, + Three things that women hold in hate. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- III. 2. + + + + +FEAR. + + Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds + Where it should guard. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 2. + + + Fear, and be slain; no worse can come, to fight: + And fight and die, is death destroying death; + Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + + +FEASTS. + + Small cheer, and great welcome, makes a merry feast. + + Comedy of Errors -- III. 1. + + + + +FILIAL INGRATITUDE. + + Ingratitude! Thou marble-hearted fiend, + More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child, + Than the sea-monster. + + King Lear -- I. 4. + + + How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is + To have a thankless child + + Idem -- I. 4. + + + + +FORETHOUGHT. + + Determine on some course, + More than a wild exposure to each cause + That starts i' the way before thee. + + Coriolanus -- IV. 1. + + + + +FORTITUDE. + + Yield not thy neck + To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind + Still ride in triumph over all mischance. + + King Henry VI., Part 3d -- III. 3. + + + + +FORTUNE. + + When fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threatening eye. + + King John -- III. 4. + + + + +GREATNESS. + + Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! + This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth + The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, + And bears his blushing honors thick upon him; + The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; + And,--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely + His greatness is ripening,--nips his root, + And then he falls, as I do. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + Some are born great, some achieve greatness, + and some have greatness thrust upon them. + + Twelfth Night -- II. 5. + + + + +HAPPINESS. + + O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness + through another man's eyes. + + As You Like It -- V. 2. + + + + +HONESTY. + + An honest man is able to speak for himself, + when a knave is not. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- V. 1. + + + To be honest, as this world goes, is to be + one man picked out of ten thousand. + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +HYPOCRISY. + + Devils soonest tempt, + resembling spirits of light. + + Love's Labor Lost -- IV. 3. + + + One may smile, and smile, + and be a villain. + + Hamlet -- I. 5. + + + + + +INNOCENCE. + + The trust I have is in mine innocence, + And therefore am I bold and resolute. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 4. + + + + +INSINUATIONS. + + The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty brands, + That calumny doth use;-- + For calumny will sear + Virtue itself:--these shrugs, these bums, and ha's, + When you have said, she's goodly, come between, + Ere you can say she's honest. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 1. + + + + +JEALOUSY. + + Trifles, light as air, + Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong + As proofs of holy writ. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + O beware of jealousy: + It is the green-eyed monster, which does mock + The meat it feeds on. + + Idem. + + + + +JESTS. + + A jest's prosperity lies in the ear + of him that hears it. + + Love's Labor Lost -- V. 2. + + + He jests at scars, + that never felt a wound. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + + +JUDGMENT. + + Heaven is above all; there sits a Judge, + That no king can corrupt. + + King Henry VIII, -- III. 1. + + + + +LIFE. + + Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, + That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, + And then is heard no more: it is a tale + Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, + Signifying nothing. + + Macbeth -- V. 5. + + + We are such stuff + As dreams are made of, and our little life + Is rounded with a sleep. + + The Tempest -- IV. 1. + + + + +LOVE. + + A murd'rous, guilt shows not itself more soon, + Than love that would seem bid: love's night is noon. + + Twelfth Night -- III. 2. + + + Sweet love, changing his property, + Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate. + + King Richard II. -- III. 2. + + + When love begins to sicken and decay, + It useth an enforced ceremony. + + Julius Caesar -- II. 2. + + + The course of true-love + never did run smooth. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- I. 1. + + + Love looks not with the eyes, + but with the mind. + + Idem. + + + She never told her love,-- + But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud, + Feed on her damask check: she pined in thought + And, with a green and yellow melancholy, + She sat like Patience on a monument, + Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed? + + Twelfth Night -- II. 4. + + + But love is blind, and lovers cannot see + The pretty follies that themselves commit. + + The Merchant of Venice -- II. 6. + + + + +MAN. + + What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! + How infinite in faculties! in form, and moving, + how express and admirable! in action, how like + an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the + beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! + + Hamlet -- II. 2. + + + + +MERCY. + + The quality of mercy is not strained: + it droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, + Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; + It blesses him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown: + His scepter shows the force of temporal power, + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; + But mercy is above this sceptered sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings; + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then show likest God's, + When mercy seasons justice. + Consider this,-- + That, in the course of justice, none of us + Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; + And that same prayer doth teach us all to render + The deeds of mercy. + + Merchant of Venice -- IV. 1. + + + + +MERIT. + + Who shall go about + To cozen fortune, and be honorable + Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume + To wear an undeserved dignity. + + Merchant of Venice -- II. 9. + + + + +MODESTY. + + It is the witness still of excellency, + To put a strange face on his own perfection. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 3. + + + + +MORAL CONQUEST. + + Brave conquerors! for so you are, + That war against your own affections, + And the huge army of the world's desires. + + Love's Labor's Lost -- I. 1. + + + + +MURDER. + + The great King of kings + Hath in the table of his law commanded, + That thou shalt do no murder. + Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his band, + To hurl upon their heads thatbreak his law. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + Blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, + Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +MUSIC. + + The man that hath no music in himself, + Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, + Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; + The motions of his spirit are dull as night, + And his affections dark as Erebus: + Let no such man be trusted. + + Merchant of Venice -- V. 1. + + + + +NAMES. + + What's in a name? that, which we call a rose, + By any other name would smell as sweet. + + Romeo and Juliet -- II. 2. + + + Good name, in man, and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing. + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: + But he, that filches from me my good name, + Robs me of that, which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + + Othello -- III. 3. + + + + +NATURE. + + One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +NEWS, GOOD AND BAD. + + Though it be honest, it is never good + To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message + An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell + Themselves, when they be felt. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 5. + + + + +OFFICE. + + 'Tis the curse of service; + Preferment goes by letter, and affection, + Not by the old gradation, where each second + Stood heir to the first. + + Othello -- I. 1. + + + + +OPPORTUNITY. + + Who seeks, and will not take when offered, + Shall never find it more. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- II. 7. + + + There is a tide in the affairs of men, + Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; + Omitted, all the voyage of their life + Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: + And we must take the current when it serves, + Or lose our ventures. + + Julius Caesar -- IV. 3. + + + + +OPPRESSION. + + Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: + His faults lie open to the laws; let them, + Not you, correct them. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PAST AND FUTURE. + + O thoughts of men accurst! + Past, and to come, seem best; things present, worst. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- I. 3. + + + + +PATIENCE. + + How poor are they, that have not patience!-- + What wound did ever heal, but by degrees? + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +PEACE. + + A peace is of the nature of a conquest; + For then both parties nobly are subdued, + And neither party loser. + + King Henry IV., Part 2d -- IV. 2. + + + I will use the olive with my sword: + Make war breed peace; make peace stint war; make each + Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. + + Timon of Athens -- V. 5. + + + I know myself now; and I feel within me + A peace above all earthly dignities, + A still and quiet conscience. + + King Henry VIII. -- III. 2. + + + + +PENITENCE. + + Who by repentance is not satisfied, + Is nor of heaven, nor earth; for these are pleased; + By penitence the Eternal's wrath appeased. + + Two Gentlemen of Verona -- V. 4. + + + + +PLAYERS. + + All the world's a stage, + And all the men and women merely players: + They have their exits and their entrances; + And one man in his time plays many parts. + + As You Like It -- II. 7. + + + There be players, that I have seen play,-- + and heard others praise, and that highly,-- + not to speak it profanely, that, + neither having the accent of Christians, + nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, + have so strutted, and bellowed, + that I have thought some of nature's journeymen + had made men and not made them well, + they imitated humanity so abominably. + + Hamlet -- III. 2. + + + + +POMP. + + Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? + And, live we how we can, yet die we must. + + King Henry V. Part 3d -- V. 2. + + + + +PRECEPT AND PRACTICE. + + If to do were as easy as to know what were good + to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's + cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that + follows his own instructions: I can easier teach + twenty what were good to be done, than be one of + twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may + devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps + o'er a cold decree: such a bare is madness, the + youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, + the cripple. + + The Merchant of Venice -- I. 2. + + + + +PRINCES AND TITLES. + + Princes have but their titles for their glories, + An outward honor for an inward toil; + And, for unfelt imaginations, + They often feel a world of restless cares: + So that, between their titles, and low name, + There's nothing differs but the outward fame. + + King Richard III. -- I. 4. + + + + +QUARRELS. + + In a false quarrel these is no true valor. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; + And he but naked, though locked up in steel, + Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. + + King Henry VI., Part 2d -- III. 2. + + + + +RAGE. + + Men in rage strike those that wish them best. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +REPENTANCE. + + Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, + Which after-hours give leisure to repent. + + King Richard III. -- IV. 4. + + + + +REPUTATION. + + The purest treasure mortal times afford, + Is--spotless reputation; that away, + Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. + A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up chest + I-- a bold spirit in a loyal breast. + + King Richard II. -- I. 1. + + + + +RETRIBUTION. + + The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices + Make instruments to scourge us. + + King Lear -- V. S. + + + If these men have defeated the law, + and outrun native punishment, + though they can outstrip men, + they have no wings to fly from God. + + King Henry V. -- IV. 1. + + + + +SCARS. + + A sear nobly got, or a noble scar, + is a good livery of honor. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- IV. 6. + + + To such as boasting show their scars, + A mock is due. + + Troilus and Cressida -- IV. 5. + + + + +SELF-CONQUEST. + + Better conquest never can'st thou make, + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against those giddy loose suggestions. + + King John -- III. 1. + + + + +SELF-EXERTION. + + Men at some time are masters of their fates; + The fault is not in our stars, + But in ourselves. + + Julius Caesar -- I. 2. + + + + +SELF-RELIANCE. + + Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, + Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky + Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull + Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. + + All's Well that Ends Well -- I. 1. + + + + +SILENCE. + + Out of this silence, yet I picked a welcome; + And in the modesty of fearful duty + I read as much, as from the rattling tongue + Of saucy and audacious eloquence. + + Midsummer Night's Dream -- V. 1. + + + The silence often of pure innocence + Persuades, when speaking fails. + + Winter's Tale -- II. 2. + + + Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: + I were but little happy, if I could say how much. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- II. 1. + + + + +SLANDER. + + Slander, + Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue + Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath + Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie + All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, + Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave, + This viperous slander enters. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +SLEEP. + + The innocent sleep; + Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care, + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + Macbeth -- II. 2. + + + + +SUICIDE. + + Against self-slaughter + There is a prohibition so divine, + That cravens my weak hand. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +TEMPERANCE. + + Though I look old, yet am I strong and lusty: + For in my youth I never did apply + Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; + Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo + The means of weakness and debility: + Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, + Frosty, but kindly. + + As You Like It -- II. 3. + + + + +THEORY AND PRACTICE. + + There was never yet philosopher, + That could endure the tooth-ache patiently; + However, they have writ the style of the gods, + And made a pish at chance and sufferance. + + Much Ado About Nothing -- V. 1. + + + + +TREACHERY. + + Though those, that are betrayed, + Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor + Stands in worse case of woe. + + Cymbeline -- III. 4. + + + + +VALOR. + + The better part of valor is--discretion. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- V. 4. + + + When Valor preys on reason, + It eats the sword it fights with. + + Antony and Cleopatra -- III. 2. + + + What valor were it, when a cur doth grin + For one to thrust his band between his teeth, + When he might spurn him with his foot away? + + King Henry VI., Part 1st -- I. 4. + + + + +WAR. + + Take care + How you awake the sleeping sword of war: + We charge you in the name of God, take heed. + + King Henry IV., Part 1st -- I. 2. + + + + +WELCOME. + + Welcome ever smiles, + And farewell goes out sighing. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WINE. + + Good wine is a good familiar creature, + if it be well used. + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + O thou invisible spirit of wine, + if thou hast no name to be known by, + let us call thee --devil!. . . O, that + men should put an enemy in their mouths, + to steal away their brains! + that we should with joy, revel, + pleasure, and applause, + transform ourselves into beasts! + + Othello -- II. 3. + + + + +WOMAN. + + A woman impudent and mannish grown + Is not more loathed than an effeminate man. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + +WORDS. + + Words without thoughts + never to heaven go. + + Hamlet -- III. 3. + + + Few words shall fit the trespass best, + Where no excuse can give the fault amending. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 2. + + + + +WORLDLY CARE. + + You have too much respect upon the world: + They lose it, that do buy it with much care. + + Merchant of Venice -- I. 1. + + + + +WORLDLY HONORS. + + Not a man, for being simply man, + Hath any honor; but honor for those honors + That are without him, as place, riches, favor, + Prizes of accident as oftas merit; + Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, + The love that leaned on them, as slippery too, + Do one pluck down another, and together + Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me. + + Troilus and Cressida -- III. 3. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Beautiful Stories from Shakespeare, by E. Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BEAUTIFUL STORIES FROM SHAKESPEARE *** + +***** This file should be named 1430.txt or 1430.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/3/1430/ + +Produced by Morrie Wilson and James Rose + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.zip b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ef7f61 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/old-2024-05-05/1430.zip |
