The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

well believe

Thou art my friend that know’st my tongue so well.

Who art thou?

BASTARD. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets.

HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad?

HUBERT. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night To find you out.

BASTARD. Brief, then; and what’s the news?

HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I’ll not swoon at it.

HUBERT. The King, I fear, is poison’d by a monk; I left him almost speechless and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time Than if you had at leisure known of this.

BASTARD. How did he take it; who did taste to him?

HUBERT. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover.

BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty?

HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company; At whose request the King hath pardon’d them, And they are all about his Majesty.

BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, And tempt us not to bear above our power!

I’ll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide-These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap’d.

Away, before! conduct me to the King; I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. Exeunt

SCENE 7.

 

The orchard at Swinstead Abbey

 

Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT

 

PRINCE HENRY. It is too late; the life of all his blood Is touch’d corruptibly, and his pure brain.

Which some suppose the soul’s frail dwelling-house, Doth by the idle comments that it makes Foretell the ending of mortality.

 

Enter PEMBROKE

 

PEMBROKE. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poison which assaileth him.

PRINCE HENRY. Let him be brought into the orchard here.

Doth he still rage? Exit BIGOT

PEMBROKE. He is more patient

Than when you left him; even now he sung.

PRINCE HENRY. O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes In their continuance will not feel themselves.

Death, having prey’d upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves. ‘Tis strange that death should sing.

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.

SALISBURY. Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest

Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

 

Re-enter BIGOT and attendants, who bring in KING JOHN in a chair

 

KING JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows nor at doors.

There is so hot a summer in my bosom

That all my bowels crumble up to dust.

I am a scribbled form drawn with a pen Upon a parchment, and against this fire Do I shrink up.

PRINCE HENRY. How fares your Majesty?

KING JOHN. Poison’d-ill-fare! Dead, forsook, cast off; And none of you will bid the winter come To thrust his icy fingers in my maw,

Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course Through my burn’d bosom, nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much; I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait And so ingrateful you deny me that.

PRINCE HENRY. O that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you!

KING JOHN. The salt in them is hot.

Within me is a hell; and there the poison Is as a fiend confin’d to tyrannize

On unreprievable condemned blood.

 

Enter the BASTARD

 

BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your Majesty!

KING JOHN. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye!

The tackle of my heart is crack’d and burnt, And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail Are turned to one thread, one little hair; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty.

BASTARD. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where God He knows how we shall answer him; For in a night the best part of my pow’r, As I upon advantage did remove,

Were in the Washes all unwarily

Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The KING dies]

SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.

My liege! my lord! But now a king-now thus.

PRINCE HENRY. Even so must I run on, and even so stop.

What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay?

BASTARD. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still.

Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, Where be your pow’rs? Show now your mended faiths, And instantly return with me again

To push destruction and perpetual shame Out of the weak door of our fainting land.

Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

SALISBURY. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honour and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war.

BASTARD. He will the rather do it when he sees Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.

SALISBURY. Nay, ‘tis in a manner done already; For many carriages he hath dispatch’d To the seaside, and put his cause and quarrel To the disposing of the Cardinal;

With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post To consummate this business happily.

BASTARD. Let it be so. And you, my noble Prince, With other princes that may best be spar’d, Shall wait upon your father’s funeral.

PRINCE HENRY. At Worcester must his body be interr’d; For so he will’d it.

BASTARD. Thither shall it, then;

And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land!

To whom, with all submission, on my knee I do bequeath my faithful services

And true subjection everlastingly.

SALISBURY. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore.

PRINCE HENRY. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it but with tears.

BASTARD. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself.

Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. Exeunt THE END

 

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1599

 

THE TRAGEDY OF JULIUS CAESAR

 

by William Shakespeare

 

Dramatis Personae

 

JULIUS CAESAR, Roman statesman and general OCTAVIUS, Triumvir after Caesar’s death, later Augustus Caesar, first emperor of Rome

MARK ANTONY, general and friend of Caesar, a Triumvir after his death LEPIDUS, third member of the Triumvirate MARCUS BRUTUS, leader of the conspiracy against Caesar CASSIUS, instigator of the conspiracy

CASCA, conspirator against Caesar TREBONIUS, ” ” “

CAIUS LIGARIUS, ” ” “

DECIUS BRUTUS, ” ” “

METELLUS CIMBER, ” ” “

CINNA, ” ” “

CALPURNIA, wife of Caesar

PORTIA, wife of Brutus

CICERO, senator

POPILIUS, “

POPILIUS LENA, “

FLAVIUS, tribune

MARULLUS, tribune

CATO, supportor of Brutus

LUCILIUS, ” ” “

TITINIUS, ” ” “

MESSALA, ” ” “

VOLUMNIUS, ” ” “

ARTEMIDORUS, a teacher of rhetoric

CINNA, a poet

VARRO, servant to Brutus

CLITUS, ” ” “

CLAUDIO, ” ” “

STRATO, ” ” “

LUCIUS, ” ” “

DARDANIUS, ” ” “

PINDARUS, servant to Cassius

The Ghost of Caesar

A Soothsayer

A Poet

Senators, Citizens, Soldiers, Commoners, Messengers, and Servants

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PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF ILLINOIS BENEDICTINE COLLEGE

WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE

DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS

PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED

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SCENE: Rome, the conspirators’ camp near Sardis, and the plains of Philippi.

 

ACT I. SCENE I.

Rome. A street.

 

Enter Flavius, Marullus, and certain Commoners.

 

FLAVIUS. Hence, home, you idle creatures, get you home.

Is this a holiday? What, know you not, Being mechanical, you ought not walk

Upon a laboring day without the sign

Of your profession? Speak, what trade art thou?

FIRST COMMONER. Why, sir, a carpenter.

MARULLUS. Where is thy leather apron and thy rule?

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?

You, sir, what trade are you?

SECOND COMMONER. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler.

MARULLUS. But what trade art thou? Answer me directly.

SECOND COMMONER. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience, which is indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles.

MARULLUS. What trade, thou knave? Thou naughty knave, what trade?

SECOND COMMONER. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me; yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you.

MARULLUS. What mean’st thou by that? Mend me, thou saucy fellow!

SECOND COMMONER. Why, sir, cobble you.

FLAVIUS. Thou art a cobbler, art thou?

SECOND COMMONER. Truly, Sir, all that I live by is with the awl; I meddle with no tradesman’s matters, nor women’s matters, but with awl. I am indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great danger, I recover them. As proper men as ever trod upon neat’s leather have gone upon my handiwork.

FLAVIUS. But wherefore art not in thy shop today?

Why dost thou lead these men about the streets?

SECOND COMMONER. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes to get myself into more work. But indeed, sir, we make holiday to see Caesar and to rejoice in his triumph.

MARULLUS. Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?

What tributaries follow him to Rome