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TALES FROM

SHAKESPEARE

LAMB

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CINN & COMPANY

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 TALES

FROM

SHAKESPEARE .

BY
ос
CHARLES AND MARY LAMB .

EDITED FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS.

BOSTON, U.S.A.:
PUBLISHED BY GINN & COMPANY .
1892
 THE NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRARY
910736
ASTOR , LENOX AND
TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
R 1919 L

EDITOR'S NOTE.

N order to adapt Lamb's Tales of Shakespeare to

IN
the use of children in the schools, it has been found
necessary to make a few verbal alterations, and to omit
entirely the story Measure for Measure. It also seemed
wise to omit the portion of Lamb's Preface especially
applicable to English schools, as the following quotation
would indicate : " Instead of recommending these Tales
to the perusal of young gentlemen, who can read them
so much better in the originals, their kind assistance is
rather requested in explaining to their sisters such
parts as are hardest to understand."
Such a recommendation would be hardly appreciated
in our schools, where the misses have equal advantages
.with their brothers, and do not feel the need of such
tance.
assistance.

The pronunciation of the more difficult proper names

has been given on page 311 .
E. G.
 INTRODUCTION.

ABRIDGED ALMOST WHOLLY FROM THE INTRODUCTION OF

ALFRED AINGER.

CHARLES LAMB, the original and delightful Eng-

lish essayist and critic , was born in London in
1775, and died in 1834. In his early years he devoted
himself to the care of his sister, content to forego
for her sake all thoughts of other ties, and living
beneath the shadow - which never lifted - of a great

family sorrow. Happily for both, they were united by

strong common tastes and sympathies, as well as by
the tenderest affection ; and prominent among such
tastes, as all readers of the Essays of Elia well
know, was the love of Shakespeare and the other
great Elizabethans . In a letter to his friend Man-

ning, who had shortly before sailed for China , Charles

Lamb writes of the sister who was never far from

his thoughts : " Mary, whom you seem to remember

yet, is not quite easy that she had not a formal part-
ing from you. I wish it had so happened . She is
doing twenty of Shakespeare's plays, to be made into
children's tales. Six are already done by her ; to wit,

The Tempest, Winter's Tale, Midsummer Night, Much

Ado, Two Gentlemen of Verona, and Cymbeline ; and
iv INTRODUCTION.

the Merchant of Venice is in forwardness . I have

done Othello and Macbeth, and mean to do all the

tragedies . I think it will be popular among the little

people. Mary has done them capitally, I think you'd
think."

Neither on the Title-page nor in the Preface did

Mary Lamb's name appear, though in the latter it is
not concealed that more than one hand had been
engaged on the task. Perhaps it was the sister's
own wish that her name should be suppressed . But
we have her brother's testimony to the important share
which she bore in the work ; and her name therefore
appears in the title of the present edition .
In the Preface, the aims which the compilers had in
view are distinctly explained . They wished to interest
young persons in the story of each drama ; to supply
them with a clear and definite outline of the main
argument, omitting such episodes or incidental sketches
of character as were not absolutely necessary to its
development. But, more than this, they sought to
initiate the young reader into the unfamiliar diction
of the dramatist, and, by occasional slight changes in
it, to remove difficulties, and clear up obscurities .
It is the casual and diffused method of enforcing the

many moral lessons that lie in Shakespeare's plays that

constitutes, at least in the Editor's judgment, one spe-
cial value of this little book in the training of the
young. Writing avowedly, as Charles and Mary Lamb
were writing, for readers still in the schoolroom, ordi-
 INTRODUCTION. V

nary compilers would have been tempted to make these

little stories sermons in disguise, or to have appended
to them in set form the lessons they were calculated
to teach. Happily, both as moralist and artist, Charles
Lamb knew better how hearts and spirits are touched
to " fine issues." In an extant letter to Southey, Lamb
complains of those writers who will have the moral of
their story attached to the end, in clear-cut form, " like
the God send the good ship safe into harbor,' at the
end of the old bills of lading." It was not after this

fashion that he himself left the world so many lessons

of tenderness and wisdom . And so it has happened

that these trifles, designed for the nursery and the

schoolroom , have taken their place as an English
classic. They have never been superseded, nor are

they ever likely to be. Written, in the first instance,

solely with a view to being read by children, they are

marked here and there by a certain needless conces-
sion to the supposed phraseology of the nursery . But

the genius of the writers had unconsciously ministered

to the wants of children of a larger growth . Most

certain is it that the book has proved itself, during

the seventy years of its life that have elapsed, a pleas-
ure, and an effectual guide to the " inner shrine " of
our great dramatist, to many besides young children,
or even growing girls . More and more is a knowledge
of Shakespeare coming to be regarded as a necessary
part of one's education ; and the Editor knows of no
first introduction to that study, at once so winning
vi INTRODUCTION.

and so helpful as that supplied by these narrative

versions . And it is part of the charm that attaches

to these Tales, that, while Lamb and his sister keep

themselves studiously in the background, in their char-
acter of guides and annotators, their presence is still
felt throughout . The " withdrawing from all selfish
and mercenary thoughts " ; the " lesson of all sweet
and honorable thoughts and actions, to teach you
courtesy, benignity, generosity, humanity," which they
attribute (with what justice ! ) to their great original,
-is felt to be not less the habitual mood of the
brother and sister, who, in what Wordsworth beau-
tifully called " their dual loneliness," found one of their
best consolations in breathing together the pure and
bracing air of the Elizabethan poetry.
E. G.
!

PREFACE .

HE following Tales are meant to be submitted to

THE
the young reader as an introduction to the study
of Shakespeare, for which purpose his words are used
whenever it seemed possible to bring them in ; and in
whatever has been added to give them the regular
form of a connected story, diligent care has been
taken to select such words as might least interrupt
the effect of the beautiful English tongue in which he
wrote : therefore words introduced into our language
since his time, have been, as far as possible , avoided.
In those Tales which have been taken from the

Tragedies, the young readers will perceive, when they

come to see the source from which these stories are

derived, that Shakespeare's own words, with little

alteration, recur very frequently in the narrative as
well as in the dialogue ; but in those made from the
Comedies, the writers found themselves scarcely ever
able to turn his words into the narrative form : there-

fore it is feared, that, in them, dialogue has been made

use of too frequently for young people not accustomed
to the dramatic form of writing. But this fault, if it
be a fault, has been caused by an earnest wish to give
as much of Shakespeare's own words as possible ; and
viii PREFACE.

if the "He said " and " She said," the question and the
reply, should sometimes seem tedious to their young
ears, they must pardon it, because it was the only
way in which could be given to them a few hints and
little foretastes of the great pleasure which awaits
them in their elder years, when they come to the
rich treasures from which these small and valueless
coins are extracted, pretending to no other merit than
as faint and imperfect stamps of Shakespeare's match-
less image . Faint and imperfect images they must be
called , because the beauty of his language is too fre-
quently destroyed by the necessity of changing many
of his excellent words into words far less expressive
of his true sense, to make it read something like
prose ; and even in some few places where his blank
verse is given unaltered, as hoping, from its simple
plainness, to cheat the young readers into the belief
that they are reading prose, yet still, his language
being transplanted from its own natural soil and wild
poetic garden, it must want much of its native beauty.
It has been wished to make these Tales easy reading
for very young children . To the utmost of their abil-
ity the writers have constantly kept this in mind ; but
the subjects of most of them made this a very diffi-
cult task . It was no easy matter to give the histories
of men and women in terms familiar to the apprehen-
sion of a very young mind.
When time, and leave of judicious friends, shall put
the original plays into the readers' hands, they will dis-
 PREFACE. ix

cover, in such of them as are here abridged (not to

mention almost as many more which are left untouched ) ,
many surprising events, and turns of fortune, which, for
their infinite variety, could not be contained in this
little book, besides a world of sprightly and cheerful
characters, both men and women, the humor of which
it was feared would be lost if it were attempted to
reduce the length of them .
What these Tales shall have been to the young
readers, that and much more it is the writers' wish

that the true Plays of Shakespeare may prove to them

in older years, -enrichers of the fancy, strengtheners
of virtue, a withdrawing from all selfish and merce-
nary thoughts, a lesson of all sweet and honorable
thoughts and actions, to teach courtesy, benignity,
generosity, humanity ; for of examples teaching these
virtues his pages are full .
 CONTENTS .

PAGE
THE TEMPEST • 1
A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM • 15
THE WINTER'S TALE . · 29
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 43
AS YOU LIKE IT . · · • 58
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 77
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 93
CYMBELINE 109
KING LEAR • 125
MACBETH · 143
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 157
THE TAMING OF THE SHREW • 172
THE COMEDY OF ERRORS · 185

TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL . 202

TIMON OF ATHENS · 218

ROMEO AND JULIET • • 234
HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK . • 255
¡OTHELLO 274

PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE • 290

PRONOUNCING INDEX OF PROPER NAMES • 311
 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

THE TEMPEST.

HERE was a certain island in the sea, the only

THERE
inhabitants of which were an old man , whose name
was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda , a very beautiful
young lady. She came to this island so young, that she
had no memory of having seen any other human face than
her father's .
They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock ; it was
divided into several apartments, one of which Prospero
called his study ; there he kept his books, which chiefly
treated of magic, a study at that time much affected by
all learned men : and the knowledge of this art he found
very useful to him ; for being thrown by a strange chance
upon this island, which had been enchanted by a witch
called Sycorax, who died there a short time before his
arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his art, released many good
spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of large
trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked
commands. These gentle spirits were ever after obedient
to the will of Prospero. Of these, Ariel was the chief.
The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in
his nature, except that he took rather too much pleasure
in tormenting an ugly monster called Caliban, for he owed
him a grudge because he was the son of his old enemy
2 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods,

a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than
an ape : he took him home to his cell, and taught him to
speak ; and Prospero would have been very kind to him,
but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his
mother Sycorax, would not let him learn any thing good
or useful : therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch
wood, and do the most laborious offices ; and Ariel had
the charge of compelling him to these services.
When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel
(who was invisible to all eyes but Prospero's) would come
slily and pinch him, and sometimes tumble him down in
the mire ; and then Ariel, in the likeness of an ape , would
make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape,
in the likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in
Caliban's way, who feared the hedgehog's sharp quills
would prick his bare feet. With a variety of such like
vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him, whenever
Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded
him to do.
Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Pros-
pero could by their means command the winds, and the
waves of the sea. By his orders they raised a violent
storm , in the midst of which , and struggling with the wild
sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up ,
he showed his daughter a fine large ship , which he told
her was full of living beings like themselves . " O my
dear father," said she, " if by your art you have raised
this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad distress . See !
the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls ! they
will all perish . If I had power, I would sink the sea
beneath the earth, rather than the good ship should be
destroyed, with all the precious souls within her."
 THE TEMPEST.

" Be not so amazed , daughter Miranda, " said Prospero ;

"there is no harm done . I have so ordered it, that no
person in the ship shall receive any hurt. What I have
done has been in care of you, my dear child . You are
ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you
know no more of me, but that I am your father, and live
in this poor cave. Can you remember a time before you
came to this cell ? I think you cannot, for you were not
then three years of age."
66
Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda .
66
By what ? " asked Prospero ; " by any other house or
person ? Tell me what you can remember, my child."
Miranda said, " It seems to me like the recollection of
a dream . But had I not once four or five women who
attended upon me ? "
Prospero answered, " You had, and more. How is it
that this still lives in your mind ? Do you remember how
you came here ? "
" No, sir, ” said Miranda, “ I remember nothing more."
"Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, " I
was duke of Milan, and you were a princess, and my only
heir. I had a younger brother, whose name was Antonio,
to whom I trusted every thing ; and as I was fond of
retirement and deep study, I commonly left the manage-
ment of my state affairs to your uncle , my false brother
(for so indeed he proved ) . I , neglecting all worldly ends,
buried among my books, did dedicate my whole time to
the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio being
thus in possession of my power, began to think himself
the duke indeed. The opportunity I gave him of making
himself popular among my subjects awakened in his bad
nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my dukedom :
this he soon effected with the aid of the king of Naples,
a powerful prince , who was my enemy."
4 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

"Wherefore," said Miranda, " did they not that hour

destroy us ? "
66
' My child," answered her father, " they durst not, so
dear was the love that my people bore me . Antonio car-
ried us on board a ship, and when we were some leagues
out at sea, he forced us into a small boat, without either
tackle, sail, or mast : there he left us, as he thought, to
perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who
loved me, had privately placed in the boat, water, provis-
ions, apparel, and some books which I prize above my
dukedom ."
66
" O my father," said Miranda, " what a trouble must I
have been to you then ! "
" No, my love," said Prospero, " you were a little cherub
that did preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me to
bear up against my misfortunes. Our food lasted till we
landed on this desert island, since when my chief delight
has been in teaching you, Miranda, and well have you
profited by my instructions."
" Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda .
" Now pray tell me, sir, your reason for raising this sea-
storm ? "
" Know then," said her father, " that by means of this
storm , my enemies, the king of Naples, and my cruel
brother, are cast ashore upon this island ."
Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter
with his magic wand, and she fell fast asleep ; for the
spirit Ariel just then presented himself before his master,
to give an account of the tempest, and how he had dis-
posed of the ship's company, and though the spirits were
always invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she
should hear him holding converse (as would seem to her)
with the empty air.
 THE TEMPEST. 5

"Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, " how

have you performed your task ? "
Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the
terrors of the mariners ; and how the king's son, Ferdi-
nand, was the first who leaped into the sea ; and his
father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up by the
waves and lost. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in a
corner of the isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly
lamenting the loss of the king, his father, whom he con-
cludes drowned. Not a hair of his head is injured, and
his princely garments, though drenched in the sea-waves,
look fresher than before."
" That's my delicate Ariel ," said Prospero. " Bring him
hither : my daughter must see this young prince . Where
is the king, and my brother ? "
" I left them," answered Ariel, " searching for Ferdi-
nand, whom they have little hopes of finding, thinking
they saw him perish . Of the ship's crew not one is miss-
ing ; though each one thinks himself the only one saved :
and the ship, though invisible to them , is safe in the har-
bor."
" Ariel," said Prospero, " thy charge is faithfully per-
formed ; but there is more work yet."
"Is there more work ? " said Ariel. " Let me remind
you, master, you have promised me my liberty. I pray,
remember, I have done you worthy service, told you no
lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge or
grumbling ."
" How now ! " said Prospero. " You do not recollect
what a torment I freed you from. Have you forgot the
wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and envy was almost
bent double ? Where was she born ? Speak ; tell me. "
" Sir, in Algiers, ” said Ariel.
6 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

"O was she so ? " said Prospero. " I must recount what
you have been, which I find you do not remember. This
bad witch, Sycorax, for her witch-crafts, too terrible to
enter human hearing, was banished from Algiers, and here
left by the sailors ; and because you were a spirit to deli-
cate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in
a tree, where I found you howling. This tormout,
remember, I did free you from ."
"Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seen:
ungrateful ; " I will obey your commands."
" Do so," said Prospero, " and I will set you free." He
then gave orders what further he would have him do ; and
away went Ariel, first to where he had left Ferdinand ,
and found him still sitting on the grass in the same mel-
ancholy posture .
"O my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw
him, " I will soon move you. You must be brought, I
find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight of your pretty
person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing,

"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. ”

This strange news of his lost father soon roused the

prince from the stupid fit into which he had fallen . He
followed in amazement the sound of Ariel's voice, till it
led him to Prospero and Miranda, who were sitting under
the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen a
man before, except her own father.
 THE TEMPEST. 7

“ Miranda, ” said Prospero, " tell me what you are look-

ing at yonder."
"O father," said Miranda, in a strange surprise, " surely
that is a spirit. Lord ! how it looks about ! Believe me,
sir, it is a beautiful creature . Is it not a spirit ? "
66
No, girl," answered her father : " it eats, and sleeps,
and has senses such as we have . This young man you see
was in the ship. He is somewhat altered by grief, or you
might call him a handsome person . He has lost his com-
panions, and is wandering about to find them."
Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and gray
beards like her father, was delighted with the appearance
of this beautiful young prince ; and Ferdinand, seeing
such a lovely maiden in this desert place, and from the
strange sounds he had heard, expecting nothing but won-
ders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that
Miranda was the goddess of the place, and as such he
began to address her.
She timidly answered , she was no goddess, but a simple
maid, and was going to give him an account of herself,
when Prospero interrupted her. He was well pleased to
find they admired each other, for he plainly perceived
they had (as we say) fallen in love at first sight : but
to try Ferdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some
difficulties in their way : therefore advancing forward, he
addressed the prince with a stern air, telling him, he came
to the island as a spy, to take it from him who was the
lord of it. " Follow me," said he, " I will tie you neck
and feet together. You shall drink sea -water ; shell-fish ,
withered roots, and husks of acorns shall be your food."
"No," said Ferdinand, " I will resist such entertainment,
till I see a more powerful enemy," and drew his sword ;
but Prospero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the
spot where he stood so that he had no power to move.
8 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Miranda hung upon her father, saying, " Why are you
so ungentle ? Have pity, sir ; I will be his surety. This
is the second man I ever saw, and to me he seems a true
one.'
" Silence, " said the father ; " one word more will make
me chide you, girl ! What ! an advocate for an impostor !
You think there are no more such fine men , having seen
only him and Caliban . I tell you, foolish girl, most men
as far excel this, as he does Caliban ." This he said to
prove his daughter's constancy ; and she replied , " My
affections are most humble. I have no wish to see a
99
goodlier man.'
" Come on , young man ," said Prospero to the prince ;
"you have no power to disobey me ."
" I have not indeed," answered Ferdinand ; and not
knowing that it was by magic he was deprived of all
power of resistance, he was astonished to find himself so
strangely compelled to follow Prospero : looking back on
Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went
after Prospero into the cave, " My spirits are all bound up,
as if I were in a dream ; but this man's threats , and the
weakness which I feel, would seem light to me if from my
prison I might once a day behold this fair maid.”
Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the
cell : he soon brought out his prisoner, and set him a
severe task to perform, taking care to let his daughter
know the hard labor he had imposed on him, and then
pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them
both.
Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some
heavy logs of wood . Kings ' sons not being much used
to laborious work, Miranda soon after found her lover
almost dying with fatigue. " Alas ! " said she, " do not
 THE TEMPEST . 9

work so hard ; my father is at his studies, he is safe for

these three hours ; pray rest yourself."
66
"O my dear lady," said Ferdinand, " I dare not . I
must finish my task before I take my rest."
"If you will sit down," said Miranda, " I will carry
your logs the while." But this Ferdinand would by no
means agree to . Instead of a help Miranda became a
hindrance, for they began a long conversation , so that the
business of log-carrying went on very slowly.
Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely
as a trial of his love, was not at his books, as his daughter
supposed, but was standing by them invisible, to overhear
what they said.
Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told , saying it
was against her father's express command she did so.
Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his
daughter's disobedience, for having by his magic art
caused his daughter to fall in love so suddenly, he was
not angry that she showed her love by forgetting to obey
his commands. And he listened well pleased to a long
speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her
above all the ladies he ever saw.
In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said
exceeded all the women in the world, she replied , “ I do
not remember the face of any woman , nor have I seen any
more men than you, my good friend, and my dear father.
How features are abroad, I know not ; but, believe me,
sir, I would not wish any companion in the world but you,
nor can my imagination form any shape but yours that I
could like. But, sir, I fear I talk to you too freely, and
my father's precepts I forget."
At this Prospero smiled , and nodded his head, as much
as to say, " This goes on exactly as I could wish ; my girl
will be queen of Naples .".
10 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

And then Ferdinand , in another fine long speech (for

young princes speak in courtly phrases) , told the innocent
Miranda he was heir to the crown of Naples, and that she
should be his queen .
" Ah ! sir," said she , " I am a fool to weep at what I am
glad of. I will answer you in plain and holy innocence .
I am your wife if you will marry me."
Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing
visible before them.
" Fear nothing, my child, " said he ; " I have overheard,
and approve of all you have said. And, Ferdinand , if I
have too severely used you, I will make you rich amends,
by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were but
trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the test.
Then as my gift, which your true love has worthily pur-
chased, take my daughter, and do not smile that I boast
she is above all praise." He then, telling them that he
had business which required his presence, desired they
would sit down and talk together till he returned ; and
this command Miranda seemed not at all disposed to
disobey.
When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel,
who quickly appeared before him, eager to relate what
he had done with Prospero's brother and the king of
Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out of their
senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them
to see and hear. When fatigued with wandering about,
and famished for want of food, he had suddenly set before
them a delicious banquet, and then, just as they were
going to eat, he appeared visible before them in the shape
of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the feast
vanished away. Then, to their utter amazement, this
seeming harpy spoke to them , reminding them of their
 THE TEMPEST. 11

cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom , and leav-

ing him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea ; say
ing, that for this cause these terrors were suffered to
afflict them .
The king of Naples, and Antonio the false brother,
repented the injustice they had done to Prospero ; and
Ariel told his master he was certain their penitence was
sincere, and that he, though a spirit, could not but pity
them.
" Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero : "if
you, who are but a spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I,
who am a human being like themselves , have compassion
on them ? Bring them quickly, my dainty Ariel. "
Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old
Gonzalo in their train, who had followed him wondering
at the wild music he played in the air to draw them on to
his master's presence . This Gonzalo was the same who
had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and
provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he
thought, to perish in an open boat in the sea.
Grief and terror had so stupefied their senses, that they
did not know Prospero. He first discovered himself to
the good old Gonzalo, calling him the preserver of his
life ; and then his brother and the king knew that he was
the injured Prospero .
Antonio with tears, and sad words of sorrow and true
repentance, implored his brother's forgiveness, and the
king expressed his sincere remorse for having assisted
Antonio to depose his brother : and Prospero forgave
them ; and, upon their engaging to restore his dukedom,
he said to the king of Naples , " I have a gift in store for
you too ; " and opening a door, showed him his son Ferdi-
nand playing at chess with Miranda.
12 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Nothing could exceed the joy of the father and the son
at this unexpected meeting, for they each thought the
other drowned in the storm.
66
"O wonder ! " said Miranda, " what noble creatures
these are ! It must surely be a brave world that has such
people in it."
The king of Naples was almost as much astonished at
the beauty and excellent graces of the young Miranda, as
his son had been. " Who is this maid ? " said he ; " she
seems the goddess that has parted us, and brought us thus
together." " No, sir," answered Ferdinand, smiling to
find his father had fallen into the same mistake that he
had done when he first saw Miranda , " she is a mortal, but
by immortal Providence she is mine ; I chose her when
I could not ask you, my father, for your consent, not
thinking you were alive . She is the daughter to this
Prospero, who is the famous duke of Milan, of whose
renown I have heard so much, but never saw him till
now of him I have received a new life : he has made
himself to me a second father, giving me this dear lady."
" Then I must be her father," said the king ; " but oh !
how oddly will it sound, that I must ask my child for-
giveness."
"No more of that," said Prospero : " let us not remem-
ber our troubles past, since they so happily have ended ."
And then Prospero embraced his brother, and again
assured him of his forgiveness ; and said that a wise over-
ruling Providence had permitted that he should be driven
from his poor dukedom of Milan, that his daughter might
inherit the crown of Naples, for that by their meeting in
this desert island, it had happened that the king's son had
loved Miranda.
These kind words which Prospero spoke, meaning to
 THE TEMPEST. 13

comfort his brother, so filled Antonio with shame and

remorse, that he wept and was unable to speak ; and the
kind old Gonzalo wept to see this joyful reconciliation ,
and prayed for blessings on the young couple.
Prospero now told them that their ship was safe in the
harbor, and the sailors all on board her, and that he and
his daughter would accompany them home the next morn-
ing. " In the mean time," says he, " partake of such
refreshments as my poor cave affords ; and for your even-
ing's entertainment I will relate the history of my life
from my first landing in this desert island ." He then
called for Caliban to prepare some food, and set the cave
in order ; and the company were astonished at the uncouth
form and savage appearance of this ugly monster, who
(Prospero said) was the only attendant he had to wait
upon him.
Before Prospero left the island , he dismissed Ariel from
his service, to the great joy of that lively little spirit ; who ,
though he had been a faithful servant to his master, was
always longing to enjoy his free liberty, to wander uncon-
trolled in the air, like a wild bird, under green trees ,
among pleasant fruits, and sweet-smelling flowers. " My
quaint Ariel, " said Prospero to the little sprite when he
made him free, " I shall miss you ; yet you shall have your
freedom." " Thank you, my dear master, " said Ariel ;
"but give me leave to attend your ship home with pros-
perous gales, before you bid farewell to the assistance of
your faithful spirit ; and then, master, when I am free,
how merrily I shall live ! " Here Ariel sung this pretty
song :
"Where the bee sucks there suck I ;
In a cowslip's bell I lie :
There I couch when owls do cry.
14 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

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."

Prospero then buried deep in the earth his magical

books and wand, for he was resolved never more to make
use of the magic art. And having thus overcome his
enemies, and being reconciled to his brother and the king
of Naples, nothing now remained to complete his happi-
ness, but to revisit his native land, to take possession of
his dukedom, and to witness the happy nuptials of his
daughter and Prince Ferdinand, which the king said
should be instantly celebrated with great splendor on
their return to Naples. At which place, under the safe
convoy of the spirit Ariel, they, after a pleasant voyage,
soon arrived.
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 15

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM .

HERE was a law in the city of Athens which gave to

THERE
its citizens the power of compelling their daughters
to marry whomsoever they pleased ; for upon a daughter's
refusing to marry the man her father had chosen to be her
husband , the father was empowered by this law to cause
her to be put to death ; but as fathers do not often desire
the death of their own daughters , even though they do
happen to prove a little refractory , this law was seldom or
never put in execution , though perhaps the young ladies
of that city were not unfrequently threatened by their
parents with the terrors of it.
There was one instance, however, of an old man, whose
name was Egeus, who actually did come before Theseus
(at that time the reigning Duke of Athens ) , to complain
that his daughter Hermia, whom he had commanded to
marry Demetrius, a young man of a noble Athenian
family, refused to obey him, because she loved another
young Athenian, named Lysander . Egeus demanded jus-
tice of Theseus, and desired that this cruel law might be
put in force against his daughter.
Hermia pleaded in excuse for her disobedience , that
Demetrius had formerly professed love for her dear friend
Helena, and that Helena loved Demetrius to distraction ;
but this honorable reason, which Hermia gave for not
obeying her father's command, moved not the stern
Egeus. Theseus, though a great and merciful prince,
16 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

had no power to alter the laws of his country ; therefore

he could only give Hermia four days to consider of it :
and at the end of that time, if she still refused to marry
Demetrius, she was to be put to death.
When Hermia was dismissed from the presence of the
duke , she went to her lover Lysander, and told him the
peril she was in, and that she must either give him up and
marry Demetrius, or lose her life in four days.
Lysander was in great affliction at hearing these evil
tidings ; but recollecting that he had an aunt who lived
at some distance from Athens, and that at the place where
she lived the cruel law could not be put in force against
Hermia (this law not extending beyond the boundaries of
the city) , he proposed to Hermia that she should steal out
of her father's house that night, and go with him to his
aunt's house, where he would marry her. " I will meet
you," said Lysander, " in the wood a few miles without
the city ; in that delightful wood where we have so often
walked with Helena in the pleasant month of May."
To this proposal Hermia joyfully agreed ; and she told
no one of her intended flight but her friend Helena.
Helena (as maidens will do foolish things for love ) very
ungenerously resolved to go and tell this to Demetrius,
though she could hope no benefit from betraying her
friend's secret, but the poor pleasure of following her
faithless lover to the wood ; for she knew that Demetrius
would go thither in pursuit of Hermia.
The wood, in which Lysander and Hermia proposed to
meet was the favorite haunt of those little beings known
by the name of Fairies.
Oberon the king, and Titania the queen of the Fairies,
with all their tiny train of followers, in this wood held
their midnight revels.
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 17

Between this little king and queen of sprites there hap-

pened, at this time, a sad disagreement ; they never met
by moonlight in the shady walks of this pleasant wood ,
but they were quarrelling, till all their fairy elves would
creep into acorn-cups and hide themselves for fear.
The cause of this unhappy disagreement was Titania's
refusing to give Oberon a little changeling boy, whose
mother had been Titania's friend ; and upon her death the
fairy queen stole the child from its nurse, and brought
him up in the woods.
The night on which the lovers were to meet in this
wood, as Titania was walking with some of her maids of
honor, she met Oberon attended by his train of fairy
courtiers .
" Il met by moonlight, proud Titania," said the fairy
king. The queen replied, " What, jealous Oberon, is it
you ? Fairies, skip hence ; I have forsworn his company."
66
Tarry, rash fairy ," said Oberon ; " am not I thy lord ?
Why does Titania cross her Oberon ? Give me your
little changeling boy to be my page."
"Set your heart at rest," answered the queen ; “ your
whole fairy kingdom buys not the boy of me." She then
left her lord in great anger. " Well, go your way," said
Oberon : " before the morning dawns I will torment you
for this injury."
Oberon then sent for Puck, his chief favorite and privy
counsellor.
Puck (or as he was sometimes called , Robin Goodfellow)
was a shrewd and knavish sprite , that used to play comical
pranks in the neighboring villages ; sometimes getting into
the dairies and skimming the milk, sometimes plunging his
light and airy form into the butter-churn, and while he
was dancing his fantastic shape in the churn, in vain the
18 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

dairy-maid would labor to change her cream into butter :

nor had the village swains any better success ; whenever
Puck chose to play his freaks in the brewing copper, the
ale was sure to be spoiled . When a few good neighbors
were met to drink some comfortable ale together, Puck
would jump into the bowl of ale in the likeness of a roasted
crab, and when some old goody was going to drink, he
would bob against her lips , and spill the ale over her
withered chin ; and presently after, when the same old
dame was gravely seating herself to tell her neighbors a
sad and melancholy story, Puck would slip her three-
legged stool from under her, and down toppled the poor
old woman, and then the old gossips would hold their
sides and laugh at her, and swear they never wasted a
merrier hour.
"Come hither, Puck," said Oberon to his little merry
wanderer of the night ; " fetch me the flower which maids
call Love in Idleness ; the juice of that little purple flower
laid on the eyelids of those who sleep, will make them,
when they awake, dote on the first thing they see. Some
of the juice of that flower I will drop on the eyelids of my
Titania when she is asleep : and the first thing she looks
upon when she opens her eyes she will fall in love with,
even though it be a lion or a bear, a meddling monkey, or
a busy ape ; and before I will take this charm from off her
sight, which I can do with another charm I know of, I will
make her give me that boy to be my page."
Puck, who loved mischief to his heart, was highly
diverted with this intended frolic of his master, and ran
to seek the flower ; and while Oberon was waiting the
return of Puck, he observed Demetrius and Helena enter
the wood : he overheard Demetrius reproaching Helena
for following him, and after many unkind words on his
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 19

part, and gentle expostulations from Helena, reminding

him of his former love and professions of true faith to her,
he left her ( as he said) to the mercy of the wild beasts,
and she ran after him as swiftly as she could.
The fairy king, who was always friendly to true lovers,
felt great compassion for Helena ; and perhaps, as Lysan-
der said they used to walk by moonlight in this pleasant
wood, Oberon might have seen Helena in those happy
times when she was beloved by Demetrius. However
that might be, when Puck returned with the little purple
flower, Oberon said to his favorite, " Take a part of this
flower ; there has been a sweet Athenian lady here, who is
in love with a disdainful youth ; if you find him sleeping,
drop some of the love-juice in his eyes, but contrive to do
it when she is near him , that the first thing he sees when
he awakes may be this despised lady. You will know the
man by the Athenian garments which he wears." Puck
promised to manage this matter very dexterously and
then Oberon went, unperceived by Titania, to her bower,
where she was preparing to go to rest. Her fairy bower
was a bank, where grew wild thyme, cowslips , and sweet
violets, under a canopy of woodbine, musk-roses, and
eglantine. There Titania always slept some part of the
night ; her coverlet the enamelled skin of a snake, which,
though a small mantle, was wide enough to wrap a
fairy in.
He found Titania giving orders to her fairies , how they
were to employ themselves while she slept. "Some of
you," said her majesty, " must kill cankers in the musk-
rose buds, and some wage war with the bats for their
leathern wings, to make my small elves coats ; and some
of you keep watch that the clamorous owl, that nightly
hoots, come not near me : but first sing me to sleep. "
Then they began to sing this song : -
20 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

You spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ;
Newts and blind-worms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen.
Philomel, with melody,
Sing in our sweet lullaby,
Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby ;
Never harm, nor spell, nor charm ,
Come our lovely lady nigh ;
So good night with lullaby.

When the fairies had sung their queen asleep with this
pretty lullaby, they left her to perform the important
services she had enjoined them. Oberon then softly drew
near his Titania, and dropped some of the love-juice on her
eyelids, saying,
What thou seest when thou dost wake,
Do it for thy true-love take.

But to return to Hermia, who made her escape out of

her father's house that night, to avoid the death she was
doomed to for refusing to marry Demetrius. When she
entered the wood, she found her dear Lysander waiting
for her, to conduct her to his aunt's house ; but before
they had passed half through the wood, Hermia was so
much fatigued , that Lysander, who was very careful of
this dear lady, who had proved her affection for him even
by hazarding her life for his sake, persuaded her to rest
till morning on a bank of soft moss, and lying down him-
self on the ground at some little distance, they soon fell
fast asleep. Here they were found by Puck, who, seeing
a handsome young man asleep, and perceiving that his
clothes were made in the Athenian fashion, and that a
pretty lady was sleeping near him , concluded that this
must be the Athenian maid and her disdainful lover whom
Oberon had sent him to seek ; and he naturally enough
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . 21

conjectured that, as they were alone together, she must be

the first thing he would see when he awoke ; so , without
more ado, he proceeded to pour some of the juice of the
little purple flower into his eyes . But it so fell out, that
Helena came that way, and , instead of Hermia, was the
first object Lysander beheld when he opened his eyes ; and
strange to relate, so powerful was the love-charm, all his
love for Hermia vanished away, and Lysander fell in love
with Helena.
Had he first seen Hermia when he awoke, the blunder
Puck committed would have been of no consequence , for
he could not love that faithful lady too well ; but for poor
Lysander to be forced by a fairy love-charm to forget his
own true Hermia, and to run after another lady, and leave
Hermia asleep quite alone in a wood at midnight, was a
sad chance indeed .
Thus this misfortune happened . Helena , as has been
before related, endeavored to keep pace with Demetrius
when he ran away so rudely from her ; but she could not
continue this unequal race long, men being always better
runners in a long race than ladies . Helena soon lost sight
of Demetrius ; and as she was wandering about , dejected
and forlorn, she arrived at the place where Lysander was
sleeping. " Ah ! " said she, " this is Lysander lying on the
ground : is he dead or asleep ? " Then, gently touching
him , she said, " Good sir, if you are alive, awake." Upon
this Lysander opened his eyes, and (the love-charm begin-
ning to work) immediately addressed her in terms of
extravagant love and admiration ; telling her she as much
excelled Hermia in beauty as a dove does a raven, and
that he would run through fire for her sweet sake ; and
many more such lover-like speeches . Helena, knowing
Lysander was her friend Hermia's lover, and that he was
22 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

solemnly engaged to marry her, was in the utmost rage

when she heard herself addressed in this manner ; for she
thought (as well she might) that Lysander was making
a jest of her. " Oh ! " said she, " why was I born to be
mocked and scorned by every one ? Is it not enough, is
it not enough, young man, that I can never get a sweet
look or a kind word from Demetrius ; but you , sir, must
pretend in this disdainful manner to court me ? I
thought, Lysander, you were a lord of more true gentle-
ness ." Saying these words in great anger, she ran away ;
and Lysander followed her, quite forgetful of his own
Hermia, who was still asleep.
When Hermia awoke, she was in a sad fright at finding
herself alone . She wandered about the wood, not know-
ing what was become of Lysander, or which way to go to
seek for him . In the mean time Demetrius not being able
to find Hermia and his rival Lysander, and fatigued with
his fruitless search, was observed by Oberon fast asleep .
Oberon had learnt by some questions he had asked of
Puck, that he had applied the love-charm to the wrong
person's eyes ; and now having found the person first
intended , he touched the eyelids of the sleeping Demetrius
with the love-juice, and he instantly awoke ; and the first
thing he saw being Helena, he, as Lysander had done
before, began to address love-speeches to her ; and just at
that moment Lysander, followed by Hermia (for through
Puck's unlucky mistake it was now become Hermia's turn
to run after her lover) made his appearance ; and then
Lysander and Demetrius, both speaking together, made
love to Helena, they being each one under the influence of
the same potent charm.
The astonished Helena thought that Demetrius, Lysan-
der, and her once dear friend Hermia, were all in a plot
together to make a jest of her.
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . 23

Hermia was as much surprised as Helena : she knew not

why Lysander and Demetrius, who both before loved her,
were now become the lovers of Helena ; and to Hermia,
the matter seemed to be no jest.
The ladies, who before had always been the dearest of
friends, now fell to high words together.
" Unkind Hermia," said Helena, " it is you have set
Lysander on to vex me with mock praises ; and your other
lover Demetrius, who used almost to spurn me with his
foot, have you not bid him call me Goddess, Nymph, rare,
precious, and celestial ? He would not speak thus to me,
whom he hates, if you did not set him on to make a jest of
me. Unkind Hermia, to join with men in scorning your
poor friend . Have you forgot our school-day friendship ?
How often, Hermia , have we two, sitting on one cushion ,
both singing one song, with our needles working the same
flower, both on the same sampler wrought ; growing up
together in fashion of a double cherry, scarcely seeming
parted ? Hermia, it is not friendly in you, it is not
maidenly to join with men in scorning your poor friend ."
"I am amazed at your passionate words," said Hermia :
" I scorn you not ; it seems you scorn me." "Ay, do,"
returned Helena, " persevere, counterfeit serious looks,
and make mouths at me when I turn my back ; then wink
at each other, and hold the sweet jest up. If you had any
pity, grace, or manners, you would not use me thus."
While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry
words to each other, Demetrius and Lysander left them,
to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena.
When they found the gentlemen had left them , they
departed, and once more wandered weary in the wood in
search of their lovers.
As soon as they were gone, the fairy king, who with
24 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

little Puck had been listening to their quarrels , said to

him, " This is your negligence, Puck ; or did you do this
wilfully ? " " Believe me, king of shadows," answered
Puck, " it was a mistake ; did not you tell me I should
know the man by his Athenian garments ? However, I
am not sorry this has happened, for I think their jangling
makes excellent sport." "You heard," said Oberon,
"that Demetrius and Lysander are gone to seek a con-
venient place to fight in. I command you to overhang
the night with a thick fog, and lead these quarrelsome
lovers so astray in the dark, that they shall not be able
to find each other. Counterfeit each of their voices to
the other, and with bitter taunts provoke them to follow
you, while they think it is their rival's tongue they hear.
See you do this, till they are so weary they can go no
farther ; and when you find they are asleep, drop the juice
of this other flower into Lysander's eyes, and when he
awakes he will forget his new love for Helena, and return
to his old passion for Hermia ; and then the two fair ladies
may each one be happy with the man she loves, and they
will think all that has passed a vexatious dream. About
this quickly, Puck, and I will go and see what sweet love
my Titania has found."
Titania was still sleeping, and Oberon seeing a clown
near her, who had lost his way in the wood, and was
likewise asleep : " This fellow," said he, " shall be my
Titania's true love ; " and clapping an ass's head over the
clown's, it seemed to fit him as well as if it had grown
upon his own shoulders. Though Oberon fixed the ass's
head on very gently, it awakened him, and rising up,
unconscious of what Oberon had done to him, he went
towards the bower where the fairy queen slept.
" Ah ! what an angel is that I see ? " said Titania,
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . 25

opening her eyes, and the juice of the little purple flower
beginning to take effect : " are you as wise as you are
beautiful ? "
"Why, mistress," said the foolish clown, " if I have wit
enough to find the way out of this wood , I have enough to
serve my turn ."
" Out of the wood do not desire to go," said the enam-
oured queen . " I am a spirit of no common rate . I love
you. Go with me, and I will give you fairies to attend
upon you."
She then called four of her fairies : there names were,
Pease-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and Mustard-seed.
66
Attend," said the queen, " upon this sweet gentleman ;
hop in his walks, and gambol in his sight ; feed him with
grapes and apricots, and steal for him the honey-bags from
the bees. Come, sit with me," said she to the clown, "and
let me play with your amiable hairy cheeks, my beautiful
ass ! and kiss your fair large ears, my gentle joy ! "
"Where is Pease-blossom ? " said the ass-headed clown,
not much regarding the fairy queen's courtship , but very
proud of his new attendants .
" Here, sir," said little Pease-blossom.
" Scratch my head," said the clown . " Where is Cob-
web ? "
" Here, sir," said Cobweb.
" Good Mr. Cobweb," said the foolish clown , " kill me
the red humble bee on the top of that thistle yonder ; and,
good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret
yourself too much in the action , Mr. Cobweb, and take
care the honey-bag break not ; I should be sorry to have
, you overflown with a honey-bag. Where is Mustard-
seed ? "
" Here, sir," said Mustard-seed : " what is your will ? ”
 26 TALES FROM SHAKESPEAR .
E
66
Nothing," said the clown, " good Mr. Mustard-seed ,
but to help Mr. Pease-blossom to scratch ; I must go to
a barber's, Mr. Mustard-seed, for methinks I am marvel-
lous hairy about the face."
66
" My sweet love, " said the queen , " what will you have
to eat ? I have a venturous fairy, shall seek the squirrel's
hoard, and fetch you some new nuts. "
" I had rather have a handful of dried pease, " said the
clown, who, with his ass's head, had got an ass's appetite .
" But, I pray, let none of your people disturb me, for I
have a mind to sleep."
66
Sleep, then," said the queen, " and I will wind you in
my arins. O how I love you ! how I dote upon you ! "
When the fairy king saw the clown sleeping in the arms
of his queen, he advanced within her sight, and reproached
her with having lavished her favors upon an ass .
This she could not deny, as the clown was then sleeping
within her arms, with his ass's head crowned by her with
flowers .
When Oberon had teased her for some time , he again
demanded the changeling-boy ; which she, ashamed of being
discovered by her lord with her new favorite, did not dare
to refuse him.
Oberon, having thus obtained the little boy he had so
long wished for to be his page, took pity on the disgrace-
ful situation into which, by his merry contrivance, he had
brought his Titania, and threw some of the juice of the
other flower into her eyes ; and the fairy queen immedi-
· ately recovered her senses, and wondered at her late
dotage, saying how she now loathed the sight of the
strange monster .
Oberon likewise took the ass's head from off the clown,
and left him to finish his nap with his own fool's head
upon his shoulders .
 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM . 27

Oberon and his Titania being now perfectly reconciled ,

he related to her the history of the lovers, and their mid-
night quarrels ; and she agreed to go with him and see
the end of their adventures.
The fairy king and queen found the lovers and their
fair ladies, at no great distance from each other, sleeping
on a grass-plot ; for Puck, to make amends for his former
mistake, had contrived with the utmost diligence to bring
them all to the same spot, unknown to each other ; and he
had carefully removed the charm from off the eyes of
Lysander with the antidote the fairy king gave to him. .
Hermia first awoke, and finding her lost Lysander asleep
so near her, was looking at him and wondering at his
strange inconstancy. Lysander presently opening his
eyes, and seeing his dear Hermia, recovered his reason
which the fairy charm had before clouded, and with his
reason , his love for Hermia ; and they began to talk over
the adventures of the night, doubting if these things had
really happened , or if they had both been dreaming the
same bewildering dream .
Helena and Demetrius were by this time awake ; and a
sweet sleep having quieted Helena's disturbed and angry
spirits, she listened with delight to the professions of love
which Demetrius still made to her, and which, to her
surprise as well as pleasure, she began to perceive were
sincere .
These fair night-wandering ladies, now no longer rivals,
became once more true friends ; all the unkind words
which had passed were forgiven , and they calmly con-
sulted together what was best to be done in their present
situation. It was soon agreed that, as Demetrius had
given up his pretensions to Hermia, he should endeavor
to prevail upon her father to revoke the cruel sentence of
28 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

death which had been passed against her. Demetrius was

preparing to return to Athens for this friendly purpose,
when they were surprised with the sight of Egeus, Hermia's
father, who came to the wood in pursuit of his runaway
daughter.
When Egeus understood that Demetrius would not now
marry his daughter, he no longer opposed her marriage
with Lysander, but gave his consent that they should be.
wedded on the fourth day from that time, being the same
day on which Hermia had been condemned to lose her
life ; and on that same day Helena joyfully agreed to
marry her beloved and now faithful Demetrius .
The fairy king and queen, who were invisible spectators
of this reconciliation, and now saw the happy ending of
the lovers' history, brought about through the good offices
of Oberon, received so much pleasure, that these kind
spirits resolved to celebrate the approaching nuptials with
sports and revels throughout their fairy kingdom .
And now, if any are offended with this story of fairies
and their pranks , as judging it incredible and strange,
they have only to think that they have been asleep and
dreaming, and that all these adventures were visions
which they saw in their sleep : and I hope none of my
readers will be so unreasonable as to be offended with a
pretty harmless Midsummer Night's Dream.
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 29

THE WINTER'S TALE .

EONTES , king of Sicily, and his queen, the beautiful

and virtuous Hermione, once lived in the greatest
harmony together. So happy was Leontes in the love of
this excellent lady, that he had no wish ungratified,
except that he sometimes desired to see again, and to
present to his queen , his old companion and school-fellow,
Polixenes, king of Bohemia. Leontes and Polixenes were
brought up together from their infancy, but being, by the
death of their fathers, called to reign over their respec-
tive kingdoms, they had not met for many years, though
they frequently interchanged gifts, letters, and loving
embassies .
At length, after repeated invitations, Polixenes came
from Bohemia to the Sicilian court, to make his friend
Leontes a visit .
At first this visit gave nothing but pleasure to Leontes .
He recommended the friend of his youth to the queen's
particular attention , and seemed in the presence of his
dear friend and old companion to have his felicity quite
completed. They talked over old times : their school-
days and their youthful pranks were remembered , and
recounted to Hermione, who always took a cheerful part
in these conversations .
When, after a long stay, Polixenes was preparing to
depart, Hermione, at the desire of her husband , joined her
entreaties to his that Polixenes would prolong his visit.
30 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

And now began this good queen's sorrow ; for Polixe-

nes refusing to stay at the request of Leontes, was won
over by Hermione's gentle and persuasive words to put
off his departure for some weeks longer. Upon this,
although Leontes had so long known the integrity and
honorable principles of his friend Polixenes, as well as the
excellent disposition of his virtuous queen, he was seized
with an ungovernable jealousy. Every attention Her-
mione showed to Polixenes , though by her husband's
particular desire, and merely to please him, increased the
unfortunate king's jealousy ; and from being a loving and
true friend, and the best and fondest of husbands, Leontes
became suddenly a savage and inhuman monster. Send-
ing for Camillo, one of the lords of his court, and telling
him of the suspicion he entertained, he commanded him
to poison Polixenes.
Camillo was a good man ; and he, well knowing that
the jealousy of Leontes had not the slightest foundation
in truth, instead of poisoning Polixenes, acquainted him
with the king his master's orders , and agreed to escape with
him out of the Sicilian dominions ; and Polixenes , with
the assistance of Camillo, arrived safe in his own kingdom
of Bohemia, where Camillo lived from that time in the
king's court and became the chief friend and favorite of
Polixenes.
The flight of Polixenes enraged the jealous Leontes
still more ; he went to the queen's apartment, where the
good lady was sitting with her little son Mamillus , who
was just beginning to tell one of his best stories to amuse
his mother, when the king entered, and taking the child
away, sent Hermione to prison.
Mamillus, though but a very young child , loved his
mother tenderly ; and when he saw her so dishonored,
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 31

and found she was taken from him to be put into a prison ,
he took it deeply to heart, and drooped and pined away by
slow degrees, losing his appetite and his sleep, till it was
thought his grief would kill him.
The king, when he had sent his queen to prison, com-
manded Cleomenes and Dion, two Sicilian lords, to go to
Delphos, there to inquire of the oracle at the temple of
Apollo, if his queen had been unfaithful to him.
When Hermione had been a short time in prison, a little
daughter was born to her ; and the poor lady received
much comfort from the sight of her pretty baby, and she
said to it, " My poor little prisoner, I am as innocent as
you are."
Hermione had a kind friend in the noble-spirit Paulina ,
who was the wife of Antigonus, a Sicilian lord ; and when
the lady Paulina heard that a child was born to her royal
mistress, she went to the prison where Hermione was con-
fined ; and she said to Emilia, a lady who attended upon
Hermione, " I pray you, Emilia, tell the good queen , if her
majesty dare trust me with her little babe, I will carry it
to the king , its father ; we do not know how he may
soften at the sight of his innocent child." " Most worthy
madam," replied Emilia , “ I will acquaint the queen with
your noble offer ; she was wishing to-day that she had any
friend who would venture to present the child to the
king." " And tell her," said Paulina, " that I will speak
66
boldly to Leontes in her defence . " May you be forever
blessed," said Emilia , " for your kindness to our gracious
queen ! " Emilia then went to Hermione, who joyfully
gave up her baby to the care of Paulina, for she had
feared that no one would dare venture to present the
child to its father.
Paulina took the new-born infant, and forcing herself
32 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

into the king's presence, notwithstanding her husband ,

fearing the king's anger, endeavored to prevent her, she
laid the babe at its father's feet, and Paulina made a noble
speech to the king in defence of Hermione, and she
reproached him severely for his inhumanity, and implored
him to have mercy on his innocent wife and child . But
Paulina's spirited remonstrances only aggravated Leontes'
displeasure, and he ordered her husband Antigonus to
take her from his presence .
When Paulina went away, she left the little baby at
its father's feet, thinking when he was alone with it, he
would look upon it, and have pity on its helpless inno-
cence .
The good Paulina was mistaken : for no sooner was
she gone than the merciless father ordered Antigonus ,
Paulina's husband, to take the child, and carry it out to
sea, and leave it upon some desert shore to perish.
Antigonus, unlike the good Camillo, too well obeyed
the orders of Leontes ; for he immediately carried the
child on ship-board, and put out to sea, intending to leave
it on the first desert coast he could find.
So firmly was the king persuaded of the guilt of Her-
mione, that he would not wait for the return of Cle-
omenes and Dion , whom he had sent to consult the oracle
of Apollo at Delphos ; but before the queen was recovered
from her lying-in, and from her grief for the loss of her
precious baby, he had her brought to a public trial before
all the lords and nobles of his court. And when all the
great lords, the judges, and all the nobility of the land
were assembled together to try Hermione, and that
unhappy queen was standing as a prisoner before her
subjects to receive their judgment, Cleomenes and Dion
entered the assembly, and presented to the king the answer
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 33

of the oracle, sealed up ; and Leontes commanded the

seal to be broken , and the words of the oracle to be read
aloud, and these were the words : " Hermione is inno-
cent, 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." The king would give no credit
to the words of the oracle : he said it was a falsehood
invented by the queen's friends, and he desired the judge
to proceed in the trial of the queen ; but while Leontes
was speaking, a man entered and told him that the prince
Mamillus, hearing his mother was to be tried for her life ,
struck with grief and shame, had suddenly died .
Hermione, upon hearing of the death of this dear affec-
tionate child, who had lost his life in sorrowing for her
misfortune, fainted ; and Leontes, pierced to the heart by
the news, began to feel pity for his unhappy queen, and
he ordered Paulina, and the ladies who were her attend-
ants, to take her away, and use means for her recovery .
Paulina soon returned, and told the king that Hermione
was dead.
When Leontes heard that the queen was dead, he
repented of his cruelty to her ; and now that he thought
his ill-usage had broken Hermione's heart, he believed
her innocent ; and now he thought the words of the oracle
were true, as he knew " if that which was lost was not
found," which he concluded was his young daughter, he
should be without an heir, the young prince Mamillus
being dead ; and he would give his kingdom now to recover
his lost daughter : and Leontes gave himself up to remorse,
and passed many years in mournful thoughts and repent-
ant grief.
+ The ship in which Antigonus carried the infant prin-
cess out to sea was driven by a storm upon the coast of
34 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Bohemia, the very kingdom of the good king Polixenes .

Here Antigonus landed , and here he left the little baby.
Antigonus never returned to Sicily to tell Leontes
where he had left his daughter, for as he was going back
to the ship, a bear came out of the woods, and tore him
to pieces ; a just punishment on him for obeying the
wicked order of Leontes .
The child was dressed in rich clothes and jewels ; for
Hermione had made it very fine when she sent it to
Leontes, and Antigonus had pinned a paper to its mantle ,
and the name of Perdita written thereon , and words
obscurely intimating its high birth and untoward fate.
This poor deserted baby was found by a shepherd . He
was a humane man, and so he carried the little Perdita
home to his wife, who nursed it tenderly ; but poverty
tempted the shepherd to conceal the rich prize he had
found : therefore he left that part of the country, that no
one might know where he got his riches, and with part
of Perdita's jewels he bought herds of sheep, and became
a wealthy shepherd . He brought up Perdita as his own
child, and she knew not she was any other than a shep-
herd's daughter .
The little Perdita grew up a lovely maiden ; and though
she had no better education than that of a shepherd's
daughter, yet so did the natural graces she inherited from
her royal mother shine forth in her untutored mind, that
no one from her behavior would have known she had not
been brought up in her father's court.
Polixenes, the king of Bohemia, had an only son, whose
name was Florizel. As this young prince was hunting
near the shepherd's dwelling, he saw the old man's sup-
posed daughter ; and the beauty, modesty, and queen-like
deportment of Perdita caused him instantly to fall in love
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 35

with her. He soon , under the name of Doricles, and in

the disguise of a private gentleman, became a constant
visitor at the old shepherd's house. Florizel's frequent
absences from court alarmed Polixenes ; and setting people
to watch his son, he discovered his love for the shepherd's
fair daughter.
Polixenes then called for Camillo , the faithful Camillo ,
who had preserved his life from the fury of Leontes, and
desired that he would accompany him to the house of the
shepherd, the supposed father of Perdita .
Polixenes and Camillo, both in disguise, arrived at the
old shepherd's dwelling while they were celebrating the
feast of sheep-shearing ; and though they were strangers,
yet at the sheep-shearing every guest being made wel-
come, they were invited to walk in, and join in the general
festivity.
Nothing but mirth and jollity was going forward . Tables
were spread, and great preparations were making for the
rustic feast. Some lads and lasses were dancing on the
green before the house, while others of the young men
were buying ribbons, gloves, and such toys, of a pedler at
the door.
While this busy scene was going forward, Florizel and
Perdita sat quietly in a retired corner, seemingly more
pleased with the conversation of each other, than desirous
of engaging in the sports and silly amusements of those
around them.
The king was so disguised that it was impossible his
son could know him ; he therefore advanced near enough
to hear the conversation . The simple yet elegant manner
in which Perdita conversed with his son did not a little
surprise Polixenes : he said to Camillo, " This is the pret-
tiest low-born lass I ever saw ; nothing she does or says
36 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

but looks like something greater than herself, too noble

for this place."
Camillo replied , " Indeed she is the very queen of curds
and cream."
"Pray, my good friend ," said the king to the old shep-
herd, " what fair swain is that talking with your daughter ? ”
"They call him Doricles," replied the shepherd. " He says
he loves my daughter, and, to speak truth, there is not
a kiss to choose which loves the other best. If young
Doricles can get her, she shall bring him that he little
dreams of; " meaning the remainder of Perdita's jewels ;
which, after he had bought herds of sheep with part of
them, he had carefully hoarded up for her marriage por-
tion .
Polixenes then addressed his son . " How now, young
man ! " said he : " your heart seems full of something that
takes off your mind from feasting. When I was young, I
used to load my love with presents ; but you have let the
pedler go, and have bought your lass no toy."
The young prince, who little thought he was talking to
the king his father, replied, " Old sir, she prizes not such
trifles ; the gifts which Perdita expects from me are locked
up in my heart." Then, turning to Perdita, he said to her,
66
" O hear me, Perdita, before this ancient gentleman, who
it seems was once himself a lover ; he shall hear what I
profess ." Florizel then called upon the old stranger to be
a witness to a solemn promise of marriage which he made
to Perdita, saying to Polixenes, " I pray you , mark our
contract."
" Mark your divorce, young sir, " said the king, discover-
ing himself. Polixenes then reproached his son for daring
to contract himself to this low-born maiden, calling Per-
dita " shepherd's-brat, sheep-hook," and other disrespectful
 THE WINTER'S TALE . 37

names ; and threatening, if ever she suffered his son to see

her again, he would put her, and the old shepherd her
father, to a cruel death.
The king then left them in great wrath, and ordered
Camillo to follow him with prince Florizel.
When the king had departed, Perdita, whose royal na-
ture was roused by Polixenes ' reproaches , said, " Though
we are all undone, I was not much afraid ; and once or
twice I was about to speak, and tell him plainly that the
selfsame , sun which shines upon his palace, hides not his
face from our cottage, but looks on both alike." Then
sorrowfully she said , " But now I am awakened from this
dream, I will queen it no further. Leave me, sir ; I will
go milk my ewes and weep."
The kind-hearted Camillo was charmed with the spirit
and propriety of Perdita's behavior ; and perceiving that
the young prince was too deeply in love to give up his
mistress at the command of his royal father, he thought
of a way to befriend the lovers, and at the same time to
execute a favorite scheme he had in his mind .
Camillo had long known that Leontes, the king of Sicily,
was become a true penitent ; and though Camillo was now
the favored friend of king Polixenes, he could not help
wishing once more to see his late royal master and his
native home. He therefore proposed to Florizel and Per-
dita, that they should accompany him to the Sicilian court,
where he would engage Leontes should protect them, till,
through his mediation, they could obtain pardon from
Polixenes, and his consent to their marriage.
To this proposal they joyfully agreed ; and Camillo, who
conducted every thing relative to their flight, allowed the
old shepherd to go along with them .
The shepherd took with him the remainder of Perdita's
38 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

jewels, her baby clothes , and the paper which he had found
pinned to her mantle.
After a prosperous voyage, Florizel and Perdita, Camillo
and the old shepherd, arrived in safety at the court of
Leontes. Leontes, who still mourned his dead Hermione
and his lost child , received Camillo with great kindness ,
and gave a cordial welcome to prince Florizel . But Per-
dita, who Florizel introduced as his princess, seemed to
engross all Leontes' attention : perceiving a resemblance
between her and his dead queen Hermione, his grief broke
out afresh, and he said, such a lovely creature might his
own daughter have been , if he had not so cruelly destroyed
her. " And then, too," said he to Florizel, " I lost the
society and friendship of your brave father, whom I now
desire more than my life once again to look upon ."
When the old shepherd heard how much notice the king
had taken of Perdita, and that he had lost a daughter, who
was exposed in infancy, he fell to comparing the time when
he found the little Perdita , with the manner of its ex-
posure, the jewels and other tokens of its high birth; from
all which it was impossible for him not to conclude that
Perdita and the king's lost daughter were the same .
Florizel and Perdita, Camillo and the faithful Paulina,
were present when the old shepherd related to the king
the manner in which he had found the child, and also the
circumstance of Antigonus' death, he having seen the bear
seize upon him. He showed the rich mantle in which
Paulina remembered Hermione had wrapped the child ;
and he produced a jewel which she remembered Hermione
had tied about Perdita's neck, and he gave up the paper
which Paulina knew to be the writing of her husband ;
it could not be doubted that Perdita was Leontes' own
daughter : but oh ! the noble struggles of Paulina, between
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 39

sorrow for her husband's death, and joy that the oracle
was fulfilled , in the king's heir, his long-lost daughter
being found. When Leontes heard that Perdita was his
daughter, the great sorrow that he felt that Hermione
was not living to behold her child, made him that he
could say nothing for a long time, but, " O thy mother,
thy mother ! "
Paulina interrupted this joyful yet distressful scene ,
with saying to Leontes, that she had a statue, newly fin-
ished by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, which
was such a perfect resemblance of the queen , that would
his majesty be pleased to go to her house and look upon
it, he would be almost ready to think it was Hermione
herself. Thither then they all went ; the king anxious to
see the semblance of his Hermione, and Perdita longing to
behold what the mother she never saw did look like .
When Paulina drew back the curtain which concealed
this famous statue, so perfectly did it resemble Hermione ,
that all the king's sorrow was renewed at the sight : for
a long time he had no power to speak or move.
" I like your silence, my liege , " said Paulina , " it the
more shows your wonder. Is not this statue very like
your queen ? "
At length the king said, " O , thus she stood, even with
such majesty, when I first wooed her. But yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so aged as this statue looks." Paulina
replied, " So much the more the carver's excellence, who
has made the statue as Hermione would have looked had
she been living now. But let me draw the curtain , sire,
lest presently you think it moves."
The king then said, " Do not draw the curtain ; would
I were dead ! See, Camillo , would you not think it
breathed ? Her eye seems to have motion in it." " I
40 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

must draw the curtain, my liege, " said Paulina . " You
are so transported, you will persuade yourself the statue
lives." 66 O, sweet Paulina," said Leontes, " make me
"
think so twenty years together ! Still methinks there is
an air comes from her. What fine chisel could ever yet
cut breath ? Let no man mock me, for I will kiss her."
" Good, my lord, forbear ! " said Paulina. " The ruddiness
upon her lip is wet ; you will stain your own with oily
painting. Shall I draw the curtain ? " "No, not these
twenty years ," said Leontes.
Perdita, who all this time had been kneeling, and
beholding in silent admiration the statue of her matchless
mother, said now, " And so long could I stay here, looking
upon my dear mother."
“ Either forbear this transport," said Paulina to Leontes,
" and let me draw the curtain ; or prepare yourself for
more amazement. I can make the statue move indeed ;
ay, and descend from off the pedestal , and take you by the
hand. But then you will think, which I protest I am not,
that I am assisted by some wicked powers."
" What you can make her do, " said the astonished king,
" I am content to look upon. What you can make her
speak, I am content to hear ; for it is as easy to make her
speak as move."
Paulina then ordered some slow and solemn music ,
which she had prepared for the purpose, to strike up ; and,
to the amazement of all the beholders , the statue came
down from off the pedestal, and threw its arms around
Leontes' neck. The statue then began to speak, praying
for blessings on her husband, and on her child, the newly-
found Perdita.
No wonder that the statue hung upon Leontes ' neck,
and blessed her husband and her child. No wonder ; for
 THE WINTER'S TALE. 41

the statue was indeed Hermione herself, the real, the liv-
ing queen .
Paulina had falsely reported to the king the death of
Hermione, thinking that the only means to preserve her
royal mistress' life ; and with the good Paulina, Hermione
had lived ever since, never choosing Leontes should know
she was living, till she heard Perdita was found ; for
though she had long forgiven the injuries which Leontes
had done to herself, she could not pardon his cruelty to
his infant daughter .
His dead queen thus restored to life, his lost daughter
found, the long-sorrowing Leontes could scarcely support
the excess of his own happiness.
Nothing but congratulations and affectionate speeches
were heard on all sides. Now the delighted parents
thanked prince Florizel for loving their lowly-seeming
daughter ; and now they blessed the good old shepherd for
preserving their child . Greatly did Camillo and Paulina
rejoice that they had lived to see so good an end of all
their faithful services .
And as if nothing should be wanting to complete this
strange and unlooked-for joy , king Polixenes himself now
entered the palace.
When Polixenes first missed his son and Camillo , know-
ing that Camillo had long wished to return to Sicily, he
conjectured he should find the fugitives here ; and , follow-
ing them with all speed, he happened to arrive just at this,
the happiest moment of Leontes ' life.
Polixenes took a part in the general joy ; he forgave his
friend Leontes the unjust jealousy he had conceived
against him, and they once more loved each other with all
the warmth of their first boyish friendship . And there
was no fear that Polixenes would now oppose his son's
42 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

marriage with Perdita. She was no " sheep-hook " now,

but the heiress of the crown of Sicily.
Thus have we seen the patient virtues of the long-suffer-
ing Hermione rewarded . That excellent lady lived many
years with her Leontes and her Perdita, the happiest of
mothers and of queens.
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 43

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

HERE lived in the palace at Messina two ladies,

THERE
whose names were Hero and Beatrice . Hero was the
daughter, and Beatrice the niece, of Leonato, the governor
of Messina .
Beatrice was of a lively temper, and loved to divert her
cousin Hero, who was of a more serious disposition , with
her sprightly sallies . Whatever was going forward was
sure to make matter of mirth for the light-hearted
Beatrice.
At the time the history of these ladies commences some
young men of high rank in the army, as they were passing
through Messina on their return from a war that was just
ended, in which they had distinguished themselves by
their great bravery, came to visit Leonato. Among these
were Don Pedro, the Prince of Aragon ; and his friend
Claudio, who was a lord of Florence ; and with them
came the wild and witty Benedick, and he was a lord of
Padua.
These strangers had been at Messina before, and the
hospitable governor introduced them to his daughter and
his niece as their old friends and acquaintance.
Benedick, the moment he entered the room, began a
lively conversation with Leonato and the prince . Beatrice ,
who liked not to be left out of any discourse, interrupted
Benedick with saying, " I wonder that you will still be
talking, signior Benedick : nobody marks you." Bene-
44 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

dick was just such another rattle-brain as Beatrice, yet

he was not pleased at this free salutation ; he thought it
did not become a well-bred lady to be so flippant with her
tongue ; and he remembered , when he was last at Messina ,
that Beatrice used to select him to make her merry jests
upon . And as there is no one who so little likes to be
made a jest of as those who are apt to take the same
liberty themselves, so it was with Benedick and Beatrice ;
these two sharp wits never met in former times but a
perfect war of raillery was kept up between them, and
they always parted mutually displeased with each other.
Therefore when Beatrice stopped him in the middle of his
discourse with telling him nobody marked what he was
saying, Benedick, affecting not to have observed before
that she was present, said, “ What, my dear lady Disdain ,
are you yet living ? " And now war broke out afresh
between them, and a long jangling argument ensued,
during which Beatrice, although she knew he had so well
approved his valor in the late war, said that she would eat
all he had killed there : and observing the prince take
delight in Benedick's conversation , she called him " the
prince's jester. " This sarcasm sunk deeper into the mind
of Benedick than all Beatrice had said before. The hint
she gave him that he was a coward, by saying she would
eat all he had killed, he did not regard, knowing himself
to be a brave man ; but there is nothing that great wits so
much dread as the imputation of buffoonery, because the
charge comes sometimes a little too near the truth : there-
fore Benedick perfectly hated Beatrice when she called
him " the prince's jester."
The modest lady Hero was silent before the noble
guests ; and while Claudio was attentively observing the
improvement which time had made in her beauty, and was
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 45

contemplating the exquisite graces of her fine figure (for

she was an admirable young lady) , the prince was highly
amused with listening to the humorous dialogue between
Benedick and Beatrice ; and he said in a whisper to Leo-
nato, " This is a pleasant-spirited young lady. She were
an excellent wife for Benedick." Leonato replied to this
suggestion, " O, my lord, my lord, if they were but a week
married, they would talk themselves mad." But though
Leonato thought they would make a discordant pair, the
prince did not give up the idea of matching these two
keen wits together.
When the prince returned with Claudio from the pal-
ace, he found that the marriage he had devised between
Benedick and Beatrice was not the only one projected in
that good company, for Claudio spoke in such terms of
Hero, as made the prince guess at what was passing in his
heart ; and he liked it well , and he said to Claudio, " Do
you affect Hero ? " To this question Claudio replied , “ O,
my lord, when I was last at Messina , I looked upon her
with a soldier's eye , that liked , but had no leisure for
loving ; but now, in this happy time of peace, thoughts of
war have left their places vacant in my mind, and in their
room come thronging soft and delicate thoughts, all
prompting me how fair young Hero is, reminding me that
99
I liked her before I went to the wars .' Claudio's confes-
sion of his love for Hero so wrought upon the prince, that
he lost no time in soliciting the consent of Leonato to
accept of Claudio for a son-in-law. Leonato agreed to this
proposal, and the prince found no great difficulty in per-
suading the gentle Hero herself to listen to the suit of the
noble Claudio, who was a lord of rare endowments, and
highly accomplished, and Claudio, assisted by his kind
prince, soon prevailed upon Leonato to fix an early day
for the celebration of his marriage with Hero .
46 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Claudio was to wait but a few days before he was to be

married to his fair lady ; yet he complained of the interval
being tedious, as indeed most young men are impatient
when they are waiting for the accomplishment of any
event they have set their hearts upon : the prince, there-
fore, to make the time seem short to him, proposed as a
kind of merry pastime that they should invent some art-
ful scheme to make Benedick and Beatrice fall in love
with each other. Claudio entered with great satisfaction
into this whim of the prince, and Leonato promised them
his assistance, and even Hero said she would do any mod-
est office to help her cousin to a good husband.
The device the prince invented was, that the gentlemen.
should make Benedick believe that Beatrice was in love
with him, and that Hero should make Beatrice believe
that Benedick was in love with her.
The prince, Leonato, and Claudio began their operations
first and watching an opportunity when Benedick was
quietly seated reading in an arbor, the prince and his
assistants took their station among the trees behind the
arbor, so near that Benedick could not choose but hear
all they said ; and after some careless talk the prince said ,
" Come hither, Leonato. What was it you told me the
other day that your niece Beatrice was in love with
signior Benedick ? I did never think that lady would
99
have loved any man .' "No, nor I neither, my lord,"
answered Leonato "It is most wonderful that she should
so dote on Benedick, whom she in all outward behavior
seemed ever to dislike ." Claudio confirmed all this with
saying that Hero had told him Beatrice was so in love
with Benedick, that she would certainly die of grief, if
he could not be brought to love her ; which Leonato
and Claudio seemed to agree was impossible , he having
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 47

always been such a railer against all fair ladies, and in

particular against Beatrice .
The prince affected to hearken to all this with great
compassion for Beatrice, and he said, " It were good that
Benedick were told of this ." " To what end ? " said
Claudio ; " he would but make sport of it, and torment
the poor lady worse ." " And if he should," said the
prince, " it were a good deed to hang him ; for Beatrice
is an excellent sweet lady, and exceeding wise in every
thing but in loving Benedick." Then the prince motioned
to his companions that they should walk on , and leave
Benedick to meditate upon what he had overheard.
Benedick had been listening with great eagerness to
this conversation ; and he said to himself when he heard
Beatrice loved him, " Is it possible ? Sits the wind in
that corner ? " And when they were gone, he began to
reason in this manner with himself : " This can be no
trick ! they were very serious, and they have the truth
from Hero, and seem to pity the lady. Love me ! Why,
it must be requited ! I did never think to marry. But
when I said I should die a bachelor, I did not think I
should live to be married . They say the lady is virtuous
and fair. She is so . And wise in every thing but in loving
me. Why, that is no great argument of her folly. But
here comes Beatrice . By this day, she is a fair lady. I
do spy some marks of love in her." Beatrice now
approached him, and said with her usual tartness ,
66
Against my will I am sent to bid you come in to
dinner." Benedick, who never felt himself disposed to
speak so politely to her before, replied, " Fair Beatrice ,
I thank you for your pains " : and when Beatrice, after
two or three more rude speeches, left him, Benedick
thought he observed a concealed meaning of kindness.
48 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

under the uncivil words she uttered, and he said aloud,

" If I do not take pity on her, I am a villain . If I do not
love her, I am a Jew. I will go get her picture."
The gentleman being thus caught in the net they had
spread for him, it was now Hero's turn to play her part
with Beatrice ; and for this purpose she sent for Ursula
and Margaret, two gentlewomen who attended upon her,
and she said to Margaret, " Good Margaret, run to the
parlor ; there you will find my cousin Beatrice talking
with the Prince and Claudio . Whisper in her ear, that
I and Ursula are walking in the orchard, and that our
discourse is all of her. Bid her steal into that pleasant
arbor, where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, like
ungrateful minions, forbid the sun to enter." This arbor,
into which Hero desired Margaret to entice Beatrice, was
the very same pleasant arbor where Benedick had so
lately been an attentive listener.
" I will make her come, I warrant, presently," said
Margaret.
Hero, then taking Ursula with her into the orchard,
said to her, " Now Ursula, when Beatrice comes, we will
walk up and down this alley, and our talk must be only of
Benedick, and when I name him, let it be your part to
praise him more than ever man did merit . My talk to
you must be how Benedick is in love with Beatrice . Now
begin ; for look where Beatrice like a lapwing runs close
by the ground, to hear our conference ." They then began ;
Hero saying, as if in answer to something which Ursula
had said, " No , truly, Ursula . She is too disdainful ; her
spirits are as coy as wild birds of the rock. " " But are
you sure," said Ursula, "that Benedick loves Beatrice
so entirely ? " Hero replied, " So says the prince, and
my lord Claudio, and they entreated me to acquaint her
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 49

with it ; but I persuaded them , if they loved Benedick,

never to let Beatrice know of it." " Certainly," replied
Ursula, " it were not good she knew his love, lest she made
sport of it." 66 Why, to say truth, " said Hero , “ I never
yet saw à man, how wise soever, or noble, young, or rarely
featured, but she would dispraise him." " Sure, sure, such
carping is not commendable, " said Ursula . " No," replied
Hero, " but who dare tell her so ? If I should speak, she
would mock me into air." " O ! you wrong your cousin ,"
said Ursula : " she cannot be so much without true judg-
ment, as to refuse so rare a gentleman as signior Bene-
dick." " He hath an excellent good name," said Hero :
"indeed, he is the first man in Italy, always excepting my
dear Claudio." And now, Hero giving her attendant a
hint that it was time to change the discourse, Ursula said ,
" And when are you to be married , madam ? " Hero then
told her, that she was to be married to Claudio the next
day, and desired she would go in with her, and look at
some new attire, as she wished to consult with her on
what she would wear on the morrow. Beatrice, who had
been listening with breathless eagerness to this dialogue,
when they went away, exclaimed, " What fire is in mine.
ears ? Can this be true ? Farewell, contempt and scorn,
and maiden pride, adieu ! Benedick, love on ! I will
requite you, taming my wild heart to your loving hand."
It must have been a pleasant sight to see these old
enemies converted into new and loving friends, and to
behold their first meeting after being cheated into mutual
liking by the merry artifice of the good-humored prince.
But a sad reverse in the fortunes of Hero must now be
thought of. The morrow, which was to have been her
wedding-day, brought sorrow on the heart of Hero and
her good father Leonato.
50 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

The prince had a half-brother, who came from the wars

along with him to Messina. This brother (his name was
Don John) was a melancholy, discontented man , whose
spirits seemed to labor in the contriving of villanies . He
hated the prince his brother, and he hated Claudio,
because he was the prince's friend , and determined to pre-
vent Claudio's marriage with Hero, only for the malicious
pleasure of making Claudio and the prince unhappy ; for
he knew the prince had set his heart upon this marriage,
almost as much as Claudio himself ; and to effect this
wicked purpose, he employed one Borachio , a man as bad
as himself, whom he encouraged with the offer of a great
reward. This Borachio paid his court to Margaret, Hero's
attendant ; and Don John, knowing this, prevailed upon
him to make Margaret promise to talk with him from her
lady's chamber window that night, after Hero was asleep,
and also to dress herself in Hero's clothes, the better to
deceive Claudio into the belief that it was Hero ; for that
was the end he meant to compass by this wicked plot.
Don John then went to the prince and Claudio, and
told them that Hero was an imprudent lady, and that she
talked with men from her chamber-window at midnight .
Now this was the evening before the wedding, and he
offered to take them that night, where they should them-
selves hear Hero discoursing with a man from her window ;
and they consented to go along with him, and Claudio
said, " If I see any thing to-night why I should not marry
her, to-morrow in the congregation, where I intended to
wed her, there will I shame her." The prince also said,
" And as I assisted you to obtain her, I will join with you
to disgrace her."
When Don John brought them near Hero's chamber
that night, they saw Borachio standing under the window,
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING . 51

and they saw Margaret looking out of Hero's window, and

heard her talking with Borachio : and Margaret being
dressed in the same clothes they had seen Hero wear, the
prince and Claudio believed it was the lady Hero herself.
Nothing could equal the anger of Claudio, when he had
made (as he thought) this discovery. All his love for the
innocent Hero was at once converted into hatred, and he
resolved to expose her in the church, as he had said he
would , the next day ; and the prince agreed to this, think-
ing no punishment could be too severe for the naughty
lady, who talked with a man from her window the very
night before she was going to be married to the noble
Claudio.
The next day, when they were all met to celebrate the
marriage, and Claudio and Hero were standing before the
priest, and the priest, or friar, as he was called , was pro-
ceeding to pronounce the marriage ceremony, Claudio,
in the most passionate language, proclaimed the guilt of
the blameless Hero, who, amazed at the strange words he
uttered, said meekly, " Is my lord well, that he does speak
so wide ? "
Leonato, in the utmost horror, said to the prince ," My
lord, why speak not you ? " "What should I speak ?
said the prince ; " I stand dishonored, that have gone about
to link my dear friend to an unworthy woman . Leonato,
upon my honor, myself, my brother, and this grieved
Claudio, did see and hear her last night at midnight talk
with a man at her chamber window."
Benedick, in astonishment at what he heard, said, " This
looks not like a nuptial."
66
True, O God ! " replied the heart-struck Hero ; and
then this hapless lady sunk down in a fainting fit, to all .
appearance dead. The prince and Claudio left the church,
52 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

without staying to see if Hero would recover, or at all

regarding the distress into which they had thrown Leo-
nato. So hard-hearted had their anger made them.
Benedick remained , and assisted Beatrice to recover
Hero from her swoon, saying, " How does the lady ? "
" Dead, I think,” replied Beatrice in great agony, for she
loved her cousin ; and knowing her virtuous principles,
she believed nothing of what she had heard spoken against
her. Not so the poor old father ; he believed the story of
his child's shame, and it was piteous to hear him lament-
ing over her, as she lay like one dead before him, wishing
she might never more open her eyes.
But the ancient friar was a wise man, and full of obser-
vation on human nature, and he had attentively marked
the lady's countenance when she heard herself accused,
and noted a thousand blushing shames to start into her
face, and then he saw an angel-like whiteness bear away
those blushes, and in her eye he saw a fire that did belie
the error that the prince did speak against her maiden
truth, and he said to the sorrowing father, " Call me a
fool ; trust not my reading, nor my observation ; trust not
my age, my reverence, nor my calling, if this sweet lady
lie not guiltless here under some biting error. "
When Hero had recovered from the swoon into which
she had fallen , the friar said to her, " Lady, what man
is he you are accused of? " Hero replied, " They know
that do accuse me ; I know of none " : then turning to
Leonato, she said, " O my father, if you can prove that
any man has ever conversed with me at hours unmeet, or
that I yesternight changed words with any creature, refuse
me, hate me, torture me to death."
" There is," said the friar, " some strange misunder-
standing in the prince and Claudio ; and then he coun-
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 53

selled Leonato, that he should report that Hero was dead ;

and he said that the death-like swoon in which they had
left Hero would make this easy of belief : and he also
advised him that he should put on mourning, and erect
a monument for her, and do all rites that appertain to
a burial. "What shall become of this ? " said Leonato ;
"What will this do ? " The friar replied, " This report of
her death shall change slander into pity : that is some
good ; but that is not all the good I hope for. When
Claudio shall hear she died upon hearing his words , the
idea of her life shall sweetly creep into his imagination .
Then shall he mourn, if ever love had interest in his heart,
and wish that he had not so accused her ; yea, though he
thought his accusation true."
Benedick now said, " Leonato, let the friar advise you ;
and though you know how well I love the prince and
Claudio, yet on my honor I will not reveal this secret to
them ."
Leonato, thus persuaded , yielded ; and he said sorrow-
fully, " I am so grieved, that the smallest twine may lead
me." The kind friar then led Leonato and Hero away to
comfort and console them, and Beatrice and Benedick
remained alone ; and this was the meeting from which
their friends, who contrived the merry plot against them,
expected so much diversion ; those friends who were now
overwhelmed with affliction , and from whose minds all
thoughts of merriment seemed forever banished .
Benedick was the first who spoke, and he said, " Lady
Beatrice, have you wept all this while ? " " Yea, and I
will weep a while longer," said Beatrice. " Surely," said
Benedick, " I do believe your fair cousin is wronged ."
" Ah ! " said Beatrice , " how much might that man
deserve of me who would right her ! " Benedick then
54 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

said, “ Is there any way to show such friendship ? I do

love nothing in the world so well as you : is not that
strange ? " "It were as possible, " said Beatrice , " for me
to say I loved nothing in the world so well as you ; but
believe ine not, and yet I lie not. I confess nothing , nor
I deny nothing. I am sorry for my cousin." " By my
sword," said Benedick, " you love me, and I protest I love
you. Come, bid me do any thing for you." " Kill
Claudio," said Beatrice. " Ha ! not for the wide world,"
said Benedick ; for he loved his friend Claudio, and he
believed he had been imposed upon . " Is not Claudio a
villain, that has slandered, scorned, and dishonored my
cousin ? " said Beatrice : " O that I were a man ! " ،، Hear
me, Beatrice ! " said Benedick. But Beatrice would hear
nothing in Claudio's defence ; and she continued to urge
on Benedick to revenge her cousin's wrongs : and she
said, " Talk with a man out of the window ; a proper
saying ! Sweet Hero ! she is wronged ; she is slandered ;
she is undone. O that I were a man for Claudio's sake !
or that I had any friend, who would be a man for my
sake ! but valor is melted into courtesies and compliments.
I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a
woman with grieving. " " Tarry, good Beatrice," said
Benedick : " by this hand I love you." " Use it for my
love some other way than swearing by it," said Beatrice .
"Think you on your soul, that Claudio has wronged
Hero ? " asked Benedick. " Yea," answered Beatrice : "as
sure as I have a thought, or a soul ." " Enough," said
Benedick ; “ I am engaged ; I will challenge him . I will
kiss your hand, and so leave you . By this hand, Claudio
shall render me a dear account ! As you hear from me,
so think of me. Go, comfort your cousin."
While Beatrice was thus powerfully pleading with Bene-
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 55

dick, and working his gallant temper by the spirit of her

angry words, to engage in the cause of Hero , and fight
even with his dear friend Claudio, Leonato was challen-
ging the prince and Claudio to answer with their swords
the injury they had done his child , who, he affirmed , had
died for grief. But they respected his age and his sorrow,
and they said, " Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old
man." And now came Benedick, and he also challenged
Claudio to answer with his sword the injury he had done
to Hero ; and Claudio and the prince said to each other,
"Beatrice has set him on to do this." Claudio neverthe-
less must have accepted this challenge of Benedick, had
not the justice of Heaven at the moment brought to pass
a better proof of the innocence of Hero than the uncertain
fortune of a duel.
While the prince and Claudio were yet talking of the
challenge of Benedick, a magistrate brought Borachio as
a prisoner before the prince. Borachio had been over-
heard talking with one of his companions of the mischief
he had been employed by Don John to do .
Borachio made a full confession to the prince in
Claudio's hearing, that it was Margaret dressed in her
lady's clothes that he had talked with from the window,
whom they had mistaken for the lady Hero herself ; and
no doubt continued on the minds of Claudio and the
prince of the innocence of Hero. If a suspicion had re-
mained it must have been removed by the flight of Don
John , who, finding his villanies were detected, fled from
Messina to avoid the just anger of his brother .
The heart of Claudio was sorely grieved when he found
he had falsely accused Hero , who, he thought, died upon
hearing his cruel words ; and the memory of his beloved
Hero's image came over him, in the rare semblance that
56 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

he loved it first ; and the prince asking him if what he

heard did not run like iron through his soul, he answered ,
that he felt as if he had taken poison while Borachio was
speaking.
And the repentant Claudio implored forgiveness of the
old man Leonato for the injury he had done his child ; and
promised, that whatever penance Leonato would lay upon
him for his fault in believing the false accusation against
his betrothed wife, for her dear sake he would endure it.
The penance Leonato enjoined him was, to marry the
next morning a cousin of Hero's who , he said, was now his
heir, and in person very like Hero . Claudio, regarding
the solemn promise he made to Leonato, said, he would
marry this unknown lady, even though she were an
Ethiop : but his heart was very sorrowful, and he passed
that night in tears, and in remorseful grief, at the tomb
which Leonato had erected for Hero.
When the morning came, the prince accompanied
Claudio to the church, where the good friar, and Leonato
and his niece, were already assembled, to celebrate a sec-
ond nuptial ; and Leonato presented to Claudio his prom-
ised bride ; and she wore a mask, that Claudio might not
discover her face . And Claudio said to the lady in the
mask, " Give me your hand, before this holy friar ; I am
your husband, if you will marry me ." " And when I
lived I was your other wife," said this unknown lady ;
and, taking off her mask, she proved to be no niece (as
was pretended) , but Leonato's very daughter, the lady
Hero herself. We may be sure that this proved a most
agreeable surprise to Claudio, who thought her dead, so
that he could scarcely for joy believe his eyes ; and the
prince, who was equally amazed at what he saw, ex-
claimed, " Is not this Hero, Hero that was dead ? " Leo-
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 57

nato replied, " She died, my lord, but while her slander
lived." The friar promised them an explanation of this
seeming miracle, after the ceremony was ended ; and was
proceeding to marry them, when he was interrupted by
Benedick, who desired to be married at the same time to
Beatrice . Beatrice making some demur to this match,
and Benedick challenging her with her love for him ,
which he had learned from Hero, a pleasant explanation
took place ; and they found they had both been tricked
into a belief of love, which had never existed, and had
become lovers in truth by the power of a false jest : but
the affection , which a merry invention had cheated them
into, was grown too powerful to be shaken by a serious.
explanation ; and since Benedick proposed to marry, he
was resolved to think nothing to the purpose that the
world could say against it ; and he merrily kept up the
jest, and swore to Beatrice, that he took her but for pity,
and because he heard she was dying of love for him ; and
Beatrice protested , that she yielded but upon great per-
suasion, and partly to save his life, for she heard he was
in a consumption . So these two mad wits were recon-
ciled, and made a match of it, after Claudio and Hero
were married ; and to complete the history , Don John , the
contriver of the villany, was taken in his flight, and
brought back to Messina ; and a brave punishment it was
to this gloomy, discontented man , to see the joy and feast-
ings which, by the disappointment of his plots, took place
at the palace in Messina .
58 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

AS YOU LIKE IT.

URING the time that France was divided into prov-

D
inces (or dukedoms as they were called ) there
reigned in one of these provinces a usurper, who had
deposed and banished his elder brother, the lawful duke .
The duke, who was thus driven from his dominions,
retired with a few faithful followers to the forest of
Arden ; and here the good duke lived with his loving
friends, who had put themselves into a voluntary exile for
his sake, while their land and revenues enriched the false
usurper ; and custom soon made the life of careless ease
they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and
uneasy splendor of a courtier's life . Here they lived like
the old Robin Hood of England , and to this forest many
noble youths daily resorted from the court, and did fleet
the time carelessly, as they did who lived in the golden
age. In the summer they lay along under the fine shade
of the large forest trees, marking the playful sports of the
wild deer ; and so fond were they of these poor dappled
fools , who seemed to be the native inhabitants of the
forest, that it grieved them to be forced to kill them to
supply themselves with venison for their food. When
the cold winds of winter made the duke feel the change
of his adverse fortune, he would endure it patiently, and
say, " These chilling ,winds which blow upon my body are
true counsellors ; they do not flatter, but represent truly
to me my condition ; and though they bite sharply, their
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 59

tooth is nothing like so keen as that of unkindness and

ingratitude. I find that howsoever men speak against
adversity, yet some sweet uses are to be extracted from
it ; like the jewel , precious for medicine, which is taken
from the head of the venomous and despised toad." In
this manner did the patient duke draw a useful moral
from every thing that he saw ; and by the help of this
moralizing turn, in that life of his, remote from public
haunts, he could find tongues in trees, books in the run-
ning brooks, sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
The banished duke had an only daughter, named Rosa-
lind, whom the usurper, duke Frederick, when he banished
her father, still retained in his court as a companion for
his own daughter Celia. A strict friendship subsisted
between these ladies, which the disagreement between
their fathers did not in the least interrupt, Celia striving
by every kindness in her power to make amends to Rosa-
lind for the injustice of her own father in deposing the
father of Rosalind ; and whenever the thoughts of her
father's banishment, and her own dependence on the false
usurper, made Rosalind melancholy, Celia's whole care
was to comfort and console her.
One day, when Celia was talking in her usual kind
manner to Rosalind, saying, " I pray you, Rosalind, my
sweet cousin, be merry," a messenger entered from the
duke, to tell them that if they wished to see a wrestling
match, which was just going to begin, they must come
instantly to the court before the palace ; and Celia , think-
ing it would amuse Rosalind , agreed to go and see it .
In these times wrestling, which is only practised now by
country clowns, was a favorite sport even in the courts of
princes, and before fair ladies and princesses . To this
wrestling match, therefore, Celia and Rosalind went.
60 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

They found that it was likely to prove a very tragical

sight ; for a large and powerful man , who had been long
practised in the art of wrestling, and had slain many men
in contests of this kind , was just going to wrestle with
a very young man, who, from his extreme youth and
inexperience in the art, the beholders all thought would
certainly be killed .
When the duke saw Celia and Rosalind, he said, " How
now, daughter and niece, are you crept hither to see the
wrestling ? You will take little delight in it, there is such
odds in the men : in pity to this young man, I would wish
to persuade him from wrestling. Speak to him , ladies,
and see if you can move him. ”
The ladies were well pleased to perform this humane
office, and first Celia entreated the young stranger that he
would desist from the attempt ; and then Rosalind spoke
so kindly to him, and with such feeling consideration for
the danger he was about to undergo, that instead of being
persuaded by her gentle words to forego his purpose, all
his thoughts were bent to distinguish himself by his
courage in this lovely lady's eyes . He refused the request
of Celia and Rosalind in such graceful and modest words ,
that they felt still more concern for him ; he concluded
his refusal with saying, " I am sorry to deny such fair and
excellent ladies any thing. But let your fair eyes and
gentle wishes go with me to my trial, wherein if I be con-
quered there is one shamed that was never gracious ; if I
am killed, there is one dead that is willing to die ; I shall
do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament me ;
the world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; for I only
fill up a place in the world which may be better supplied
when I have made it empty."
And now the wrestling match began. Celia wished the
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 61

young stranger might not be hurt ; but Rosalind felt most

for him. The friendless state which he said he was in,
and that he wished to die, made Rosalind think that he
was like herself, unfortunate ; and she pitied him so much,
and so deep an interest she took in his danger while he
was wrestling, that she might almost be said at that
moment to have fallen in love with him.
The kindness shown this unknown youth by these fair
and noble ladies gave him courage and strength, so that
he performed wonders ; and in the end completely con-
quered his antagonist, who was so much hurt, that for
a while he was unable to speak or move.
The duke Frederick was much pleased with the courage
and skill shown by this young stranger ; and desired to
know his name and parentage, meaning to take him under
his protection.
The stranger said his name was Orlando, and that he
was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys.
Sir Rowland de Boys , the father of Orlando, had been
dead some years ; but when he was living, he had been
a true subject and dear friend of the banished duke :
therefore when Frederick heard Orlando was the son of
his banished brother's friend, all his liking for this brave
young man was changed into displeasure, and he left the
place in very ill humor. Hating to hear the very name of
any of his brother's friends, and yet still admiring the
valor of the youth, he said , as he went out, that he wished
Orlando had been the son of any other man .
Rosalind was delighted to hear that her new favorite
was the son of her father's old friend ; and she said to
Celia, " My father loved Sir Rowland de Boys, and if I
had known this young man was his son, I would have
added tears to my entreaties before he should have
ventured. "
62 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

The ladies then went up to him ; and seeing him

abashed by the sudden displeasure shown by the duke,
they spoke kind and encouraging words to him ; and
Rosalind, when they were going away, turned back to
speak some more civil things to the brave young son of
her father's old friend ; and taking a chain from off her
neck, she said, “ Gentleman , wear this for me. I am out
of suits with fortune , or I would give you a more valuable
present."
When the ladies were alone, Rosalind's talk being still
of Orlando, Celia began to perceive her cousin had fallen
in love with the handsome young wrestler, and she said to
Rosalind, " Is it possible you should fall in love so sud-
denly ? " Rosalind replied, " The duke, my father, loved
his father dearly." " But," said Celia, " does it therefore
follow that you should love his son dearly ? for then I
ought to hate him, for my father hated his father ; yet I
do not hate Orlando ."
Frederick being enraged at the sight of Sir Rowland de
Boys' son, which reminded him of the many friends the
banished duke had among the nobility, and having been
for some time displeased with his niece, because the people
praised her for her virtues, and pitied her for her good
father's sake, his malice suddenly broke out against her ;
and while Celia and Rosalind were talking of Orlando,
Frederick entered the room, and with looks full of anger
ordered Rosalind instantly to leave the palace , and follow
her father into banishment ; telling Celia, who in vain
pleaded for her, that he had only suffered Rosalind to stay
upon her account . "I did not then," said Celia, " entreat
you to let her stay, for I was too young at that time to
value her ; but now that I know her worth, and that we
so long have slept together, rose at the same instant,
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 63

learned , played, and eat together, I cannot live out of her

company." Frederick replied , " She is too subtle for you ;
her smoothness, her very silence, and her patience speak
to the people, and they pity her. You are a fool to plead
for her, for you will seem more bright and virtuous when
she is gone ; therefore open not your lips in her favor, for
the doom which I have passed upon her is irrevocable."
When Celia found she could not prevail upon her father
to let Rosalind remain with her, she generously resolved
to accompany her ; and leaving her father's palace that
night, she went along with her friend to seek Rosalind's
father, the banished duke, in the forest of Arden .
Before they set out, Celia considered that it would be
unsafe for two young ladies to travel in the rich clothes
they then wore ; she therefore proposed that they should
disguise their rank by dressing themselves like country
maids. Rosalind said it would be a still greater protec-
tion if one of them was to be dressed like a man ; and so
it was quickly agreed on between them, that as Rosalind
was the taller, she should wear the dress of a young
countryman, and Celia should be habited like a country
lass, and that they should say they were brother and sis-
ter, and Rosalind said she would be called Ganymede, and
Celia chose the name of Aliena.
In this disguise, and taking their money and jewels to
defray their expenses, these fair princesses set out on their
long travel ; for the forest of Arden was a long way off,
beyond the boundaries of the duke's dominions.
The lady Rosalind (or Ganymede as she must now be
called) with her manly garb seemed to have put on a
manly courage. The faithful friendship Celia had shown
in accompanying Rosalind so many weary miles , made the
new brother, in recompense for this true love, exert a
64 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

cheerful spirit, as if he were indeed Ganymede, the rustic

and stout-hearted brother of the gentle village maiden ,
Aliena.
When at last they came to the forest of Arden, they no
longer found the convenient inns and good accommoda-
tions they had met with on the road ; and being in want
of food and rest, Ganymede, who had so merrily cheered
his sister with pleasant speeches and happy remarks all
the way, now owned to Aliena that he was so weary, he
could find in his heart to disgrace his man's apparel, and
cry like a woman ; and Aliena declared she could go no
farther ; and then again Ganymede tried to recollect that
it was a man's duty to comfort and console a woman, as
the weaker vessel ; and to seem courageous to his new
sister, he said, " Come, have a good heart, my sister
Aliena ; we are now at the end of our travel, in the forest
of Arden." But feigned manliness and forced courage
would no longer support them ; for though they were in
the forest of Arden, they knew not where to find the
duke and here the travel of these weary ladies might
have come to a sad conclusion, for they might have lost
themselves, and perished for want of food ; but providen-
tially, as they were sitting on the grass, almost dying with
fatigue and hopeless of any relief, a countryman chanced
to pass that way, and Ganymede once more tried to speak
with a manly boldness, saying, " Shepherd, if love or gold
can in this desert place procure us entertainment , I pray
you bring us where we may rest ourselves ; for this young
maid, my sister, is much fatigued with travelling, and
faints for want of food."
The man replied, that he was only a servant to a shep-
herd, and that his master's house was just going to be
sold, and therefore they would find but poor entertain-
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 65

ment ; but if they would go with him, they should be

welcome to what there was. They followed the man, the
near prospect of relief giving them fresh strength ; and
bought the house and sheep of the shepherd , and took the
man who conducted them to the shepherd's house to wait
on them ; and being by this means so fortunately provided
with a neat cottage, and well supplied with provisions,
they agreed to stay here till they could learn in what
part of the forest the duke dwelt.
When they were rested after the fatigue of their jour-
ney, they began to like their new way of life, and almost
fancied themselves the shepherd and shepherdess they
feigned to be ; yet sometimes Ganymede remembered he
had once been the same lady Rosalind who had so dearly
loved the brave Orlando, because he was the son of old
Sir Rowland, her father's friend ; and though Ganymede
thought that Orlando was many miles distant, even so
many weary miles as they had travelled, yet it soon .
appeared that Orlando was also in the forest of Arden :
and in this manner this strange event came to pass .
Orlando was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys,
who , when he died, left him (Orlando being then very
young) to the care of his eldest brother Oliver, charging
Oliver on his blessing to give his brother a good educa-
tion, and provide for him as became the dignity of their
ancient house . Oliver proved an unworthy brother ; and
disregarding the commands of his dying father, he never
put his brother to school, but kept him at home untaught
and entirely neglected . But in his nature and in the
noble qualities of his mind Orlando so much resembled
his excellent father, that without any advantages of edu-
cation he seemed like a youth who had been bred with the
utmost care ; and Oliver so envied the fine person and
66 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

dignified manners of his untutored brother, that at last he

wished to destroy him ; and to effect this he set on people
to persuade him to wrestle with the famous wrestler, who,
as has been before related, had killed so many men .
Now, it was this cruel brother's neglect of him which
made Orlando say he wished to die, being so friendless .
When, contrary to the wicked hopes he had formed, his
brother proved victorious, his envy and malice knew no
bounds, and he swore he would burn the chamber where
Orlando slept . He was overheard making this vow by
one that had been an old and faithful servant to their
father, and that loved Orlando because he resembled Sir
Rowland . This old man went out to meet him when he
returned from the duke's palace, and when he saw
Orlando, the peril his dear young master was in made him
break out into these passionate exclamations : “ O my
gentle master, my sweet master, O you memory of old-
Sir Rowland ! why are you virtuous ? why are you gentle,
strong, and valiant ? and why would you be so fond to
overcome the famous wrestler ? Your praise is come too
swiftly home before you . " Orlando, wondering what all
this meant, asked him what was the matter. And then
the old man told him how his wicked brother, envying the
love all people bore him, and now hearing the fame he
had gained by his victory in the duke's palace , intended
to destroy him, by setting fire to his chamber that night ;
and in conclusion , advised him to escape the danger he
was in by instant flight ; and knowing Orlando had no
money, Adam (for that was the good old man's name)
had brought out with him his own little hoard , and he
said, " I have five hundred crowns, the thrifty hire I saved
under your father, and laid by to be provision for me
when my old limbs should become unfit for service ; take
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 67

that, and he that doth the ravens feed be comfort to my

age ! Here is the gold ; all this I give to you : let me be
your servant ; though I look old I will do the service of a
younger man in all your business and necessities ." "O
good old man ! " said Orlando , " how well appears in you
the constant service of the old world ! You are not for
the fashion of these times. We will go along together,
and before your youthful wages are spent, I shall light
upon some means for both our maintenance.”
Together then this faithful servant and his loved master
set out ; and Orlando and Adam travelled on , uncertain
what course to pursue, till they came to the forest of
Arden, and there they found themselves in the same dis-
tress for want of food that Ganymede and Aliena had
been. They wandered on, seeking some human habi-
tation, till they were almost spent with hunger and
fatigue . Adam at last said , " O my dear master, I die for
want of food , I can go no farther ! " He then laid himself
down, thinking to make that place his grave, and bade his
dear master farewell. Orlando, seeing him in this weak
state, took his old servant up in his arms, and carried him
under the shelter of some pleasant trees ; and he said to
him,, " Cheerly, old Adam, rest your weary limbs here
a while, and do not talk of dying ! "
Orlando then searched about to find some food, and he
happened to arrive at that part of the forest where the
duke was ; and he and his friends were just going to eat
their dinner, this royal duke being seated on the grass,
under no other canopy than the shady covert of some
large trees.
Orlando, whom hunger had made desperate, drew his
sword, intending to take their meat by force, and said,
" Forbear and eat no more ; I must have your food ! "
68 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

The duke asked him, if distress had made him so bold, or

if he were a rude despiser of good manners. On this
Orlando said , he was dying with hunger ; and then the
duke told him he was welcome to sit down and eat with
them. Orlando, hearing him speak so gently, put up his
sword, and blushed with shame at the rude manner in
which he had demanded their food. " Pardon me, I pray
you," said he : " I thought that all things had been savage
here, and therefore I put on the countenance of stern com-
mand ; but whatever men you are, that in this desert,
under the shade of melancholy boughs, lose and neglect
the creeping hours of time ; if ever you have looked on
better days ; if ever you have been where bells have
knolled to church ; if you have ever sat at any good man's
feast ; if ever from your eyelids you have wiped a tear,
and know what it is to pity or be pitied , may gentle
speeches now move you to do me human courtesy ! " The
duke replied, " True it is that we are men (as you say)
who have seen better days, and though we have now our
habitation in this wild forest, we have lived in towns and
cities, and have with holy bell been knolled to church,
have sat at good men's feasts, and from our eyes have
wiped the drops which sacred pity has engendered ; there-
fore sit you down, and take of our refreshment as much as
There is an old poor
will minister to your wants.” "
man," answered Orlando, " who has limped after me many
a weary step in pure love, oppressed at once with two sad
infirmities, age and hunger ; till he be satisfied , I must
not touch a bit." " Go , find him out, and bring him
hither," said the duke ; " we will forbear to eat till you
return." Then Orlando went like a doe to find its fawn
and give it food ; and presently returned, bringing Adam
in his arms ; and the duke said, " Set down your venerable
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 69

burthen ; you are both welcome " : and they fed the old
man, and cheered his heart, and he revived, and recovered
his health and strength again.
The duke inquired who Orlando was ; and when he
found that he was the son of his old friend, Sir Rowland
de Boys, he took him under his protection , and Orlando
and his old servant lived with the duke in the forest.
Orlando arrived in the forest not many days after
Ganymede and Aliena came there, and (as has been before
related ) bought the shepherd's cottage.
Ganymede and Aliena were strangely surprised to find
the name of Rosalind carved on the trees, and love-
sonnets, fastened to them, all addressed to Rosalind ; and
while they were wondering how this could be, they met
Orlando, and they perceived the chain which Rosalind
had given him about his neck.
Orlando little thought that Ganymede was the fair
princess Rosalind, who, by her noble condescension and
favor, had so won his heart that he passed his whole time
in carving her name upon the trees, and writing sonnets
in praise of her beauty : but being much pleased with the
graceful air of this pretty shepherd-youth , he entered into
conversation with him, and he thought he saw a likeness
in Ganymede to his beloved Rosalind , but that he had
none of the dignified deportment of that noble lady ; for
Ganymede assumed the forward manners often seen in
youths when they are between boys and men , and with
much archness and humor talked to Orlando of a certain
lover, " who," said he, " haunts our forest, and spoils our
young trees with carving Rosalind upon their barks ; and
he hangs odes upon hawthorns , and elegies on brambles,
all praising this same Rosalind. If I could find this lover,
I would give him some good counsel that would soon cure
him of his love."
70 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Orlando confessed that he was the fond lover of whom

he spoke, and asked Ganymede to give him the good
counsel he talked of. The remedy Ganymede proposed,
and the counsel he gave him, was that Orlando should
come every day to the cottage where he and his sister
Aliena dwelt : " And then, " said Ganymede, " I will feign
myself to be Rosalind, and you shall feign to court me in
the same manner as you would do if I was Rosalind, and
then I will imitate the fantastic ways of whimsical ladies
to their lovers, till I make you ashamed of your love ; and
this is the way I propose to cure you." Orlando had no
great faith in the remedy, yet he agreed to come every
day to Ganymede's cottage, and feign a playful courtship ;
and every day Orlando visited Ganymede and Aliena, and
Orlando called the shepherd Ganymede his Rosalind, and
every day talked over all the fine words and flattering
compliments which young men delight to use when they
court their mistresses. It does not appear, however, that
Ganymede made any progress in curing Orlando of his
love for Rosalind.
Though Orlando thought all this was but a sportive
play (not dreaming that Ganymede was his very Rosalind) ,
yet the opportunity it gave him of saying all the fond
things he had in his heart, pleased his fancy almost as well
as it did Ganymede's, who enjoyed the secret jest in know-
ing these fine love speeches were all addressed to the right
person .
In this manner many days passed pleasantly on with
these young people ; and the good-natured Aliena, seeing
it made Ganymede happy, let him have his own way, and
was diverted at the mock-courtship, and did not care to
remind Ganymede that the lady Rosalind had not yet made
herself known to the duke her father, whose place of resort
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 71

in the forest they had learned from Orlando . Ganymede

met the duke one day, and had some talk with him, and
the duke asked of what parentage he came. Ganymede
answered that he came of as good parentage as he did,
which made the duke smile, for he did not suspect the
pretty shepherd-boy came of royal lineage. Then seeing
the duke look well and happy, Ganymede was content to
put off all further explanation for a few days longer.
One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede,
he saw a man lying asleep on the ground , and a large green
snake had twisted itself about his neck . The snake ,
seeing Orlando approach , glided away among the bushes.
Orlando went nearer, and then he discovered a lioness lie
crouching, with her head on the ground , with a cat-like
watch, waiting till the sleeping man awaked (for it is said
that lions will prey on nothing that is dead or sleeping) .
It seemed as if Orlando was sent by Providence to free the
man from the danger of the snake and lioness ; but when
Orlando looked in the man's face, he perceived that the
sleeper who was exposed to this double peril, was his own
brother Oliver, who had so cruelly used him, and had threat-
ened to destroy him by fire ; and he was almost tempted to
leave him a prey to the hungry lioness ; but brotherly affec-
tion and the gentleness of his nature soon overcame his
first anger against his brother ; and he drew his sword, and
attacked the lioness, and slew her, and thus preserved his
brother's life both from the venomous snake and from the
furious lioness : but before Orlando could conquer the
lioness, she had torn one of his arms with her sharp claws .
While Orlando was engaged with the lioness, Oliver
awaked, and perceiving that his brother Orlando, whom he
had so cruelly treated , was saving him from the fury of a
wild beast at the risk of his own life, shame and remorse
72 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

at once seized him, and he repented of his unworthy con-

duct, and besought with many tears his brother's pardon
for the injuries he had done him . Orlando rejoiced to see
him so penitent, and readily forgave him : they embraced
each other ; and from that hour Oliver loved Orlando with
a true brotherly affection, though he had come to the
forest bent on his destruction .
The wound in Orlando's arm having bled very much,
he found himself too weak to go to visit Ganymede, and
therefore he desired his brother to go and tell Ganymede,
"whom," said Orlando , " I in sport do call my Rosalind,"
the accident which had befallen him.
Thither then Oliver went, and told to Ganymede and
Aliena how Orlando had saved his life : and when he had
finished the story of Orlando's bravery, and his own provi-
dential escape, he owned to them that he was Orlando's
brother, who had so cruelly used him ; and then he told
them of their reconciliation .
The sincere sorrow that Oliver expressed for his offences
made such a lively impression on the kind heart of Aliena,
that she instantly fell in love with him ; and Oliver observ-
ing how much she pitied the distress he told her he felt
for his fault, he as suddenly fell in love with her. But
while love was thus stealing into the hearts of Aliena and
Oliver, he was no less busy with Ganymede, who hearing
of the danger Orlando had been in, and that he was
wounded by the lioness, fainted ; and when he recovered ,
he pretended that he had counterfeited the swoon in the
imaginary character of Rosalind , and Ganymede said to
Oliver, " Tell your brother Orlando how well I counter-
feited a swoon ." But Oliver saw by the paleness of his
complexion that he did really faint, and much wondering
at the weakness of the young man, he said, " Well, if you
 AS YOU LIKE IT . 73

did counterfeit, take a good heart, and counterfeit to be a

man." " So I do," replied Ganymede truly, " but I should
have been a woman by right."
Oliver made this visit a very long one, and when at last
he returned back to his brother, he had much news to tell
him ; for besides the account of Ganymede's fainting at the
hearing that Orlando was wounded, Oliver told him how
he had fallen in love with the fair shepherdess Aliena, and
that she had lent a favorable ear to his suit, even in this
their first interview ; and he talked to his brother, as of
a thing almost settled , that he should marry Aliena, say-
ing, that he so well loved her, that he would live here as
a shepherd, and settle his estate and house at home upon
Orlando.
"You have my consent," said Orlando. " Let your
wedding be to-morrow, and I will invite the duke and his
friends. Go and persuade your shepherdess to agree to
this : she is now alone ; for look, here comes her brother."
Oliver went to Aliena ; and Ganymede, whom Orlando
had perceived approaching, came to inquire after the
health of his wounded friend.
When Orlando and Ganymede began to talk over the
sudden love which had taken place between Oliver and
Aliena, Orlando said he had advised his brother to per-
suade his fair shepherdess to be married on the morrow,
and then he added how much he could wish to be married
on the same day to his Rosalind .
Ganymede, who well approved of this arrangement,
said that if Orlando really loved Rosalind as well as he
professed to do, he should have his wish ; for on the
morrow he would engage to make Rosalind appear in her
own person, and also that Rosalind should be willing to
marry Orlando.
74 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

This seemingly wonderful event, which, as Ganymede

was the lady Rosalind , he could so easily perform , he pre-
tended he would bring to pass by the aid of magic , which
he said he had learnt of an uncle who was a famous magi-
cian .
The fond lover Orlando, half believing and half dʊubt-
ing what he heard, asked Ganymede if he spoke in sober
meaning. " By my life I do," said Ganymede ; " there-
fore put on your best clothes, and bid the duke and your
friends to your wedding ; for if you desire to be married
to-morrow to Rosalind, she shall be here."
The next morning, Oliver having obtained the consent
of Aliena, they came into the presence of the duke, and
with them also came Orlando .
They being all assembled to celebrate this double mar-
riage, and as yet only one of the brides appearing, there
was much of wondering and conjecture, but they mostly
thought than Ganymede was making a jest of Orlando .
The duke, hearing that it was his own daughter that was
to be brought in this strange way, asked Orlando if he be-
lieved the shepherd-boy could really do what he had prom-
ised ; and while Orlando was answering that he knew not
what to think, Ganymede entered , and asked the duke, if
he brought his daughter, whether he would consent to her
marriage with Orlando. " That I would," said the duke,
" if I had kingdoms to give with her." Ganymede then
said to Orlando, " And you say you will marry her if I
bring her here." " That I would," said Orlando , " if I
were king of many kingdoms."
Ganymede and Aliena then went out together, and
Ganymede throwing off his male attire, and being once
more dressed in woman's apparel, quickly became Rosa-
lind without the power of magic ; and Aliena changing
 AS YOU LIKE IT. 75

her country garb for her own rich clothes, was with as
little trouble transformed into the lady Celia..
While they were gone, the duke said to Orlando, that
he thought the shepherd Ganymede very like his daughter
Rosalind ; and Orlando said, he also had observed the
resemblance .
They had no time to wonder how all this would end, for
Rosalind and Celia in their own clothes entered ; and no
longer pretending that it was by the power of magic that
she came there, Rosalind threw herself on her knees be-
fore her father, and begged his blessing . It seemed so
wonderful to all present that she should so suddenly
appear, that it might well have passed for magic ; but
Rosalind would no longer trifle with her father, and told
him the story of her banishment, and of her dwelling in
the forest as a shepherd-boy, her cousin Celia passing as
her sister.
The duke ratified the consent he had already given to
the marriage ; and Orlando and Rosalind, Oliver and
Celia, were married at the same time. And though their
wedding could not be celebrated in this wild forest with
any of the parade or splendor usual on such occasions , yet
a happier wedding-day was never passed : and while they
were eating their venison under the cool shade of the
pleasant trees, as if nothing should be wanting to com
plete the felicity of this good duke and the true lovers , an
unexpected messenger arrived to tell the duke the joyful
news, that his dukedom was restored to him.
The usurper, enraged at the flight of his daughter Celia,
and hearing that every day men of great worth resorted to
the forest of Arden to join the lawful duke in his exile ,
much envying that his brother should be so highly
respected in his adversity, put himself at the head of a
76 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

large force, and advanced towards the forest, intending to

seize his brother, and put him, with all his faithful fol-
lowers to the sword : but, by a wonderful interposition of
Providence, this bad brother was converted from his evil
intention ; for just as he entered the skirts of the wild for-
est, he was met by an old religious man , a hermit, with
whom he had much talk, and who in the end completely
turned his heart from his wicked design. Thenceforward
he became a true penitent, and resolved , relinquishing his
unjust dominion , to spend the remainder of his days in
a religious house. The first act of his newly-conceived
penitence was to send a messenger to his brother (as has
been related) to offer to restore to him his dukedom,
which he had usurped so long, and with it the lands and
revenues of his friends, the faithful followers of his adver-
sity.
This joyful news, as unexpected as it was welcome,
came opportunely to heighten the festivity and rejoicings
at the wedding of the princesses . Celia complimented her
cousin on this good fortune which had happened to the
duke, Rosalind's father, and wished her joy very sincerely,
though she herself was no longer heir to the dukedom , but
by this restoration which her father had made, Rosalind
was now the heir : so completely was the love of these two
cousins unmixed with any thing of jealousy or of envy.
The duke had now an opportunity of rewarding those
true friends who had staid with him in his banishment ;
and these worthy followers, though they had patiently
shared his adverse fortune, were very well pleased to
return in peace and prosperity to the palace of their lawful
duke.
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 77

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA .

THERE lived in the city of Verona two young gen-

tlemen, whose names were Valentine and Proteus,
between whom a firm and uninterrupted friendship had
long subsisted . They pursued their studies together, and
their hours of leisure were always passed in each other's
company, except when Proteus visited a lady he was in
love with ; and these visits to his mistress, and this passion
of Proteus for the fair Julia, were the only topics on which
these two friends disagreed ; for Valentine, not being him-
self a lover, was sometimes a little weary of hearing his
friend forever talking of his Julia, and then he would
laugh at Proteus, and in pleasant terms ridicule the
passion of love, and declare that no such idle fancies
should ever enter his head, greatly preferring (as he said)
the free and happy life he led, to the anxious hopes and
fears of the lover Proteus .
One morning Valentine came to Proteus to tell him
that they must for a time be separated, for that he was
going to Milan. Proteus, unwilling to part with his friend,
used many arguments to prevail upon Valentine not to
leave him ; but Valentine said, " Cease to persuade me,
my loving Proteus . I will not, like a sluggard, wear out
my youth in idleness at home. Home-keeping youths
have ever homely wits. If your affection were not chained
to the sweet glances of your honored Julia, I would entreat
you to accompany me, to see the wonders of the world
78 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

abroad ; but since you are a lover, love on still, and may
your love be prosperous ! "
They parted with mutual expressions of unalterable
friendship . "Sweet Valentine , adieu ! " said Proteus ;
"think on me when you see some rare object worthy of
notice in your travels, and wish me partaker of your hap-
piness ."
Valentine began his journey that same day towards
Milan ; and when his friend had left him , Proteus sat
down to write a letter to Julia , which he gave to her maid
Lucetta to deliver to her mistress .
Julia loved Proteus as well as he did her, but she was a
lady of a noble spirit, and she thought it did not become
her maiden dignity too easily to be won ; therefore she
affected to be insensible of his passion , and gave him much
uneasiness in the prosecution of his suit .
And when Lucetta offered the letter to Julia , she would
not receive it, and chid her maid for taking letters from
Proteus, and ordered her to leave the room. But she so
much wished to see what was written in the letter, that she
soon called in her maid again ; and when Lucetta returned ,
she said, " What o'clock is it ? " Lucetta, who knew her
mistress more desired to see the letter than to know the
time of day, without answering her question, again offered
the rejected letter. Julia, angry that her maid should
thus take the liberty of seeming to know what she really
wanted, tore the letter in pieces, and threw it on the floor,
ordering her maid once more out of the room. As Lucetta
was retiring, she stooped to pick up the fragments of the
torn letter ; but Julia, who meant not so to part with them,
said, in pretended anger, " Go, get you gone, and let the
papers lie ; you would be fingering them to anger me. "
Julia then began to piece together as well as she could
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 79

the torn fragments . She first made out these words, " Love-
wounded Proteus " ; and lamenting over these and such
like loving words, which she made out though they were
all torn asunder, or, she said, wounded (the expression
"Love-wounded Proteus " giving her that idea) , she talked
to these kind words, telling them she would lodge them in
her bosom as in a bed, till their wounds were healed, and
that she would kiss each several piece, to make amends.
In this manner she went on talking with a pretty lady-
like childishness, till finding herself unable to make out
the whole, and vexed at her own ingratitude in destroying
such sweet and loving words, as she called them, she wrote
a much kinder letter to Proteus than she had ever done
before.
Proteus was greatly delighted at receiving this favorable
answer to his letter ; and while he was reading it, he
exclaimed, " Sweet love, sweet lines, sweet life ! " In the
midst of his raptures he was interrupted by his father.
" How now ! " said the old gentleman ; " what letter are
you reading there ? "
66
" My lord," replied Proteus, " it is a letter from my
friend Valentine, at Milan ."
" Lend me the letter," said his father : " let me see what
news."
" There are no news, my lord," said Proteus, greatly
alarmed, " but that he writes how well beloved he is of
the duke of Milan, who daily graces him with favors ; and
how he wishes me with him, the partner of his fortune ."
" And how stand you affected to his wish ? " asked the
father.
" As one relying on your lordship's will , and not
depending on his friendly wish," said Proteus.
Now it had happened that Proteus' father had just been
.
80 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

talking with a friend on this very subject : his friend had

said, he wondered his lordship suffered his son to spend
his youth at home, while most men were sending their
sons to seek preferment abroad ; " some," said he, " to the
wars, to try their fortunes there, and some to discover
islands far away, and some to study in foreign universi-
ties ; and there is his companion Valentine, he is gone to
the duke of Milan's court. Your son is fit for any of these
things, and it will be a great disadvantage to him in his
riper age not to have travelled in his youth. "
Proteus' father thought the advice of his friend was
very good, and upon Proteus telling him that Valentine
" wished him with him, the partner of his fortune, ” he at
once determined to send his son to Milan ; and without
giving Proteus any reason for this sudden resolution, it
being the usual habit of this positive old gentleman to
command his son, not reason with him, he said, " My will
is the same as Valentine's wish " ; and seeing his son look
astonished, he added, " Look not amazed, that I so sud-
denly resolve you shall spend some time in the duke of
Milan's court ; for what I will I will, and there is an end.
To-morrow be in readiness to go . Make no excuses ; for
I am peremptory."
Proteus knew it was of no use to make objections to his
father, who never suffered him to dispute his will ; and he
blamed himself for telling his father an untruth about
Julia's letter, which had brought upon him the sad neces-
sity of leaving her.
Now that Julia found she was going to lose Proteus for
so long a time, she no longer pretended indifference ; and
they bade each other a mournful farewell, with many vows
of love and constancy. Proteus and Julia exchanged
rings, which they both promised to keep forever in
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 81

remembrance of each other : and thus, taking a sorrowful

leave, Proteus set out on his journey to Milan , the abode
of his friend Valentine .
Valentine was in reality what Proteus had feigned to
his father, in high favor with the duke of Milan ; and
another event had happened to him, of which Proteus did
not even dream, for Valentine had given up the freedom of
which he used so much to boast, and was become as pas-
sionate a lover as Proteus .
She who had wrought this wondrous change in Valen-
tine was the lady Silvia, daughter of the duke of Milan ,
and she also loved him ; but they concealed their love
from the duke, because although he showed much kind-
ness for Valentine, and invited him every day to his pal-
ace, yet he designed to marry his daughter to a young
courtier whose name was Thurio . Silvia despised this
Thurio, for he had none of the fine sense and excellent
qualities of Valentine.
These two rivals , Thurio and Valentine, were one day
on a visit to Silvia, and Valentine was entertaining Silvia
with turning every thing Thurio said into ridicule, when
the duke himself entered the room, and told Valentine the
welcome news of his friend Proteus' arrival. Valentine
said , “ If I had wished a thing, it would have been to have
seen him here ! " And then he highly praised Proteus to
the duke, saying, " My lord, though I have been a truant
of my time, yet hath my friend made use and fair advan-
tage of his days, and is complete in person and in mind ,
in all good grace to grace a gentleman."
"Welcome him then according to his worth, " said the
duke. " Silvia, I speak to you, and you, Sir Thurio ; for
Valentine , I need not bid him do so ." They were here
interrupted by the entrance of Proteus, and Valentine
82 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

introduced him to Silvia, saying, " Sweet lady, entertain

him to be my fellow-servant to your ladyship."
When Valentine and Proteus had ended their visit, and
were alone together, Valentine said, " Now tell me how all
does from whence you came ? How does your lady, and
how thrives your love ? " Proteus replied, " My tales of
love used to weary you. I know you joy not in a love dis-
course."
"Ay, Proteus ," returned Valentine, " but that life is
altered now. I have done penance for condemning love.
For in revenge of my contempt of love, love has chased
sleep from my enthralled eyes. O gentle Proteus, Love is
a mighty lord, and hath so humbled me, that I confess
there is no woe like his correction , nor no such joy on
earth as in his service . I now like no discourse except it
be of love. Now I can break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
upon the very name of love."
This acknowledgment of the change which love had
made in the disposition of Valentine was a great triumph
to his friend Proteus . But " friend " Proteus must be
called no longer, for the same all-powerful deity Love, of
whom they were speaking (yea, even while they were
talking of the change he had made in Valentine) , was
working in the heart of Proteus ; and he, who had till this
time been a pattern of true love and perfect friendship
was now, in one short interview with Silvia, become a
false friend and a faithless lover ; for at the first sight of
Silvia all his love for Julia vanished away like a dream,
nor did his long friendship for Valentine deter him from
endeavoring to supplant him in her affections ; and
although, as it will always be, when people of dispositions
naturally good become unjust, he had many scruples
before he determined to forsake Julia, and become the
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 83

rival of Valentine ; yet he at length overcame his sense of

duty, and yielded himself up, almost without remorse, to
his new unhappy passion .
Valentine imparted to him in confidence the whole his-
tory of his love, and how carefully they had concealed it
from the duke her father, and told him, that, despairing of
ever being able to obtain his consent, he had prevailed
upon Silvia to leave her father's palace that night, and go
with him to Mantua ; then he showed Proteus a ladder of
ropes, by help of which he meant to assist Silvia to get
out of one of the windows of the palace after it was dark.
Upon hearing this faithful recital of his friend's dearest
secrets, it is hardly possible to be believed, but so it was,
that Proteus resolved to go to the duke, and disclose the
whole to him.
This false friend began his tale with many artful
speeches to the duke, such as that by the laws of friend-
ship he ought to conceal what he was going to reveal, but
that the gracious favor the duke had shown him, and the
duty he owed his grace, urged him to tell that which else
no worldly good should draw from him. He then told all
he had heard from Valentine, not omitting the ladder of
ropes, and the manner in which Valentine meant to con-
ceal them under a long cloak.
The duke thought Proteus quite a miracle of integrity,
in that he preferred telling his friend's intention rather
than he would conceal an unjust action, highly com-
mended him, and promised him not to let Valentine know
from whom he had learnt this intelligence, but by some
artifice to make Valentine betray the secret himself. For
this purpose the duke awaited the coming of Valentine in
the evening, whom he soon saw hurrying towards the
palace, and he perceived somewhat was wrapped within
his cloak, which he concluded was the rope-ladder.
84 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

The duke upon this stopped him , saying , "Whither

away so fast, Valentine ? " -" May it please your grace,"
said Valentine, " there is a messenger that stays to bear
my letters to my friends, and I am going to deliver them."
Now this falsehood of Valentine's had no better success in
the event than the untruth Proteus told his father.
" Be they of much import ? " said the duke.
" No more, my lord ," said Valentine , " than to tell my
father I am well and happy at your grace's court."
"Nay then," said the duke, " no matter ; stay with me
a while. I wish your counsel about some affairs that con-
cern me nearly." He then told Valentine an artful story ,
as a prelude to draw his secret from him, saying that
Valentine knew he wished to match his daughter with
Thurio, but that she was stubborn and disobedient to his
commands, " neither regarding," said he, " that she is my
child, nor fearing me as if I were her father. And I may
say to thee, this pride of hers has drawn my love from her.
I had thought my age should have been cherished by her
childlike duty. I now am resolved to take a wife, and
turn her out to whosoever will take her in . Let her
beauty be her wedding dower, for me and my possessions
she esteems not. "
Valentine, wondering where all this would end, made
answer, " And what would your grace have me to do in
all this ? "
66
Why," said the duke, "the lady I would wish to
marry is nice and coy, and does not much esteem my aged
eloquence . Besides, the fashion of courtship is much
changed since I was young : now I would willingly have
you to be my tutor to instruct me how I am to woo."
Valentine gave him a general idea of the modes of
courtship then practised by young men, when they wished
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 85

to win a fair lady's love, such as presents, frequent visits,

and the like.
The duke replied to this, that the lady did refuse a
present which he sent her, and that she was so strictly
kept by her father, that no man might have access to her
by day.
"Why then," said Valentine, " you must visit her by
night."
“ But at night,” said the artful duke, who was now com-
ing to the drift of his discourse, " her doors are fast
locked."
Valentine then unfortunately proposed that the duke
should get into the lady's chamber at night by means of a
ladder of ropes, saying he would procure him one fitting
for that purpose ; and in conclusion advised him to con-
ceal this ladder of ropes under such a cloak as that which
he now wore. "Lend me your cloak," said the duke, who
had feigned this long story on purpose to have a pretence
to get off the cloak; so upon saying these words, he caught
hold of Valentine's cloak, and throwing it back, he dis-
covered not only the ladder of ropes, but also a letter of
Silvia's , which he instantly opened and read ; and this
letter contained a full account of their intended elope-
ment. The duke, after upbraiding Valentine for his
ingratitude in thus returning the favor he had shown him ,
by endeavoring to steal away his daughter, banished him
from the court and city of Milan forever ; and Valentine
was forced to depart that night , without even seeing Silvia.
While Proteus at Milan was thus injuring Valentine,
Julia at Verona was regretting the absence of Proteus ;
and her regard for him at last so far overcame her sense of
propriety, that she resolved to leave Verona, and seek her
lover at Milan ; and to secure herself from danger on the
86 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

road, she dressed her maiden Lucetta and herself in men's

clothes, and they set out in this disguise, and arrived at
Milan soon after Valentine was banished from that city
through the treachery of Proteus.
Julia entered Milan about noon, and she took up her
abode at an inn ; and her thoughts being all on her dear
Proteus, she entered into conversation with the innkeeper,
or host, as he was called , thinking by that means to learn
some news of Proteus .
The host was greatly pleased that this handsome young
gentleman (as he took her to be ) , who from his appear-
ance, he concluded was of high rank, spoke so familiarly
to him ; and being a good-natured man , he was sorry to
see him look so melancholy ; and to amuse his young
guest, he offered to take him to hear some fine music,
with which he said, a gentleman that evening was going
to serenade his mistress .
The reason Julia looked so very melancholy was, that
she did not well know what Proteus would think of the
imprudent step she had taken ; for she knew he had loved
her for her noble maiden pride and dignity of character,
and she feared she should lower herself in his esteem :
and this it was that made her wear a sad and thoughtful
countenance .
She gladly accepted the offer of the host to go with
him , and hear the music ; for she secretly hoped she might
meet Proteus by the way.
But when she came to the palace whither the host con-
ducted her, a very different effect was produced to what
the kind host had intended ; for there , to her heart's
sorrow, she beheld her lover, the inconstant Proteus ,
serenading the lady Silvia with music, and addressing
discourse of love and admiration to her. And Julia
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 87

overheard Silvia from a window talk with Proteus , and

reproach him for forsaking his own true lady, and for his
ingratitude to his friend Valentine ; and then Silvia left
the window, not choosing to listen to his music and his
fine speeches ; for she was a faithful lady to her banished
Valentine, and abhorred the ungenerous conduct of his
false friend Proteus .
Though Julia was in despair at what she had just wit-
nessed, yet did she still love the truant Proteus ; and
hearing that he had lately parted with a servant, she
contrived with the assistance of her host, the friendly
innkeeper, to hire herself to Proteus as a page ; and Pro-
teus knew not she was Julia, and he sent her with letters
and presents to her rival Silvia, and he even sent by her
the very ring she gave him as a parting gift at Verona.
When she went to that lady with the ring, she was most
glad to find that Silvia utterly rejected the suit of Pro-
teus ; and Julia, or the page Sebastian as she was called,
entered into conversation with Silvia about Proteus' first
love, the forsaken lady Julia. She putting in (as one
may say) a good word for herself, said she knew Julia ; as
well she might, being herself the Julia of whom she spoke ;
telling how fondly Julia loved her master Proteus, and
how his unkind neglect would grieve her : and then she
with a pretty equivocation went on : " Julia is about my
height, and of my complexion , the color of her eyes and
hair the same as mine : " and indeed Julia looked a most
beautiful youth in her boy's attire . Silvia was moved to
pity this lovely lady, who was so sadly forsaken by the
man she loved ; and when Julia offered the ring which
Proteus had sent, refused it, saying, " The more shame for
him that he sends me that ring ; I will not take it ; for I
have often heard him say his Julia gave it to him. I love
88 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

thee, gentle youth, for pitying her, poor lady ! Here is a

purse : I give it you for Julia's sake." These comfortable
words coming from her kind rival's tongue cheered the
drooping heart of the disguised lady.
But to return to the banished Valentine ; who scarce
knew which way to bend his course, being unwilling to
return home to his father a disgraced and banished man :
as he was wandering over a lonely forest, not far distant
from Milan, where he had left his heart's dear treasure,
the lady Silvia, he was set upon by robbers, who demanded
his money .

Valentine told them that he was a man crossed by

adversity, that he was going into banishment, and that he
had no money, the clothes he had on being all his riches.
The robbers, hearing that he was a distressed man, and
being struck with his noble air and manly behavior, told
him if he would live with them, and be their chief, or cap-
tain , they would put themselves under his command ; but
that if he refused to accept their offer, they would kill
him.
Valentine, who cared little what became of himself, said
he would consent to live with them and be their captain ,
provided they did no outrage on women or poor pas-
sengers.
Thus the noble Valentine became, like Robin Hood, of
whom we read in ballads, a captain of robbers and out-
lawed banditti ; and in this situation he was found by Sil-
via, and in this manner it came to pass.
Silvia, to avoid a marriage with Thurio, whom her
father insisted upon her no longer refusing, came at last
to the resolution of following Valentine to Mantua, at
which place she had heard her lover had taken refuge ;
but in this account she was misinformed, for he still lived
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA . 89

in the forest among the robbers, bearing the name of their

captain , but taking no part in their depredations , and
using the authority which they had imposed upon him in
no other way than to compel them to show compassion to
the travellers they robbed.
Silvia contrived to effect her escape from her father's
palace in company with a worthy old gentleman , whose
name was Eglamour, whom she took along with her for
protection on the road. She had to pass through the
forest where Valentine and the banditti dwelt ; and one of
these robbers seized on Silvia, and would also have taken
Eglamour, but he escaped.
The robber who had taken Silvia, seeing the terror she
was in, bid her not be alarmed, for that he was only going
to carry her to a cave where his captain lived, and that
she need not be afraid , for their captain had an honorable
mind, and always showed humanity to women . Silvia
found little comfort in hearing she was going to be car-
ried as a prisoner before the captain of a lawless banditti .
" O Valentine ," she cried , "this I endure for thee ! "
But as the robber was conveying her to the cave of his
captain, he was stopped by Proteus, who, still attended by
Julia in the disguise of a page, having heard of the flight
of Silvia, had traced her steps to this forest. Proteus now
rescued her from the hands of the robber ; but scarce had
she time to thank him for the service he had done her,
before he began to distress her afresh with his love suit ;
and while he was rudely pressing her to consent to marry
him, and his page (the forlorn Julia ) was standing beside
him in great anxiety of mind, fearing lest the great ser-
vice which Proteus had just done to Silvia should win her
to show him some favor, they were all strangely surprised
with the sudden appearance of Valentine, who, having
90 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

heard his robbers had taken a lady prisoner, came to con-

sole and relieve her.
Proteus was courting Silvia, and he was so much
ashamed of being caught by his friend, that he was all at
once seized with penitence and remorse ; and he expressed
such a lively sorrow for the injuries he had done to Valen-
tine, that Valentine, whose nature was noble and generous ,
even to a romantic degree, not only forgave and restored
him to his former place in his friendship, but in a sudden
flight of heroism he said, " I freely do forgive you ; and all
the interest I have in Silvia, I give it up to you ." Julia,
who was standing beside her master as a page, hearing this
strange offer, and fearing Proteus would not be able with
this new-found virtue to refuse Silvia, fainted, and they
were all employed in recovering her ; else would Silvia
have been offended at being thus made over to Proteus,
though she could scarcely think that Valentine would long
persevere in this overstrained and too generous act of
friendship . When Julia recovered from the fainting fit,
she said, " I had forgot, my master ordered me to deliver
this ring to Silvia." Proteus, looking upon the ring, saw
that it was the one he gave to Julia, in return for that
which he received from her, and which he had sent by the
supposed page to Silvia. " How is this ? " said he, " this is
Julia's ring : how came you by it, boy ? " Julia answered ,
" Julia herself did give it me, and Julia herself hath
brought it hither.”
Proteus, now looking earnestly upon her, plainly per-
ceived that the page Sebastian was no other than the lady
Julia herself ; and the proof she had given of her con-
stancy and true love so wrought in him, that his love for
her returned into his heart, and he took again his own
dear lady, and joyfully resigned all pretensions to the lady
Silvia to Valentine, who had so well deserved her.
 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 91

Proteus and Valentine were expressing their happiness

in their reconciliation , and in the love of their faithful
ladies when they were surprised with the sight of the duke
of Milan and Thurio, who came there in pursuit of Silvia.
Thurio first approached , and attempted to seize Silvia,
saying, " Silvia is mine." Upon this Valentine said to
him in a very spirited manner, " Thurio, keep back : if
once again you say that Silvia is yours, you shall embrace
your death. Here she stands, take but possession of her
with a touch ! I dare you but to breathe upon my love."
Hearing this threat, Thurio, who was a great coward,
drew back, and said he cared not for her, and that none
but a fool would fight for a girl who loved him not.
The duke, who was a very brave man himself, said now
in great anger, " The more base and degenerate in you to
take such means for her as you have done , and leave her
on such slight conditions." Then turning to Valentine,
he said, " I do applaud your spirit, Valentine, and think
you worthy of an empress' love. You shall have Silvia,
for you have well deserved her." Valentine then with
great humility kissed the duke's hand, and accepted the
noble present which he had made him of his daughter
with becoming thankfulness : taking occasion of this joy-
ful minute to entreat the good-humored duke to pardon
the thieves with whom he had associated in the forest,
assuring him, that when reformed and restored to society,
there would be found among them many good, and fit for
great employment ; for the most of them had been ban-
ished, like Valentine, for state offences, rather than for
any black crimes they had been guilty of. To this the
ready duke consented : and now nothing remained but
that Proteus, the false friend, was ordained, by way of
penance for his love-prompted faults, to be present at the
92 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

recital of the whole story of his loves and falsehoods

before the duke ; and the shame of the recital to his
awakened conscience was judged sufficient punishment :
which being done, the lovers, all four returned back to
Milan, and their nuptials were solemnized in the presence
of the duke , with high triumphs and feasting.
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 93

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE .

HYLOCK, the Jew, lived at Venice : he was a usurer,

SH
who had amassed an immense fortune by lending
money at great interest to Christian merchants. Shylock,
being a hard-hearted man, exacted the payment of the
money he lent with such severity that he was much dis-
liked by all good men, and particularly by Antonio, a
young merchant of Venice ; and Shylock as much hated
Antonio, because he used to lend money to people in dis-
tress, and would never take any interest for the money he
lent ; therefore there was great enmity between this cove-
tous Jew and the generous merchant Antonio. When-
ever Antonio met Shylock on the Rialto (or Exchange) ,
he used to reproach him with his usuries and hard deal-
ings, which the Jew would bear with seeming patience ,
while he secretly meditated revenge .
Antonio was the kindest man that lived, the best con-
ditioned, and had the most unwearied spirit in doing
courtesies ; indeed, he was one in whom the ancient
Roman honor more appeared than in any that drew breath
in Italy. He was greatly beloved by all his fellow-citi-
zens ; but the friend who was nearest and dearest to his
heart was Bassanio, a noble Venetian, who , having but
a small patrimony, had nearly exhausted his little fortune
by living in too expensive a manner for his slender means,
as young men of high rank with small fortunes are too
apt to do. Whenever Bassanio wanted money, Antonio
94 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

assisted him ; and it seemed as if they had but one heart

and one purse between them .
One day Bassanio came to Antonio, and told him that
he wished to repair his fortune by a wealthy marriage
with a lady whom he dearly loved , whose father , that was
lately dead, had left her sole heiress to a large estate ; and
that in her father's life-time he used to visit at her house,
when he thought he had observed this lady had sometimes
from her eyes sent speechless messages, that seemed to say
he would be no unwelcome suitor ; but not having money
to furnish himself with an appearance befitting the lover
of so rich an heiress, he besought Antonio to add to the
many favors he had shown him, by lending him three
thousand ducats .
Antonio had no money by him at that time to lend his
friend ; but expecting soon to have some ships come home
laden with merchandise, he said he would go to Shylock,
the rich money-lender, and borrow the money upon the
credit of those ships.
Antonio and Bassanio went together to Shylock, and
Antonio asked the Jew to lend him three thousand ducats
upon any interest he should require, to be paid out of the
merchandise contained in his ships at sea. On this , Shy-
lock thought within himself, " If I can once catch him on
the hip , I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him ; he
hates our Jewish nation ; he lends out money gratis, and
among the merchants he rails at me and my well-earned.
bargains, which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe if
I forgive him ! " Antonio finding he was musing within
himself and did not answer, and being impatient for the
money, said, “ Shylock, do you hear ? will you lend the
money? " To this question the Jew replied, " Signior
Antonio, on the Rialto many a time and often have you
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 95

railed at me about my moneys and my usuries , and I have

borne it with a patient shrug, for sufferance is the badge
of all our tribe ; and then you have called me unbeliever,
cut-throat dog, and spit upon my Jewish garments , and
spurned at me with your foot, as if I was a cur. Well ,
then, it now appears you need my help ; and you come to
me, and say, Shylock, lend me moneys. Has a dog money ?
Is it possible a cur should lend three thousand ducats ?
Shall I bend low and say, Fair sir, you spit upon me
Wednesday last, another time you called me dog, and for
these courtesies I am to lend you moneys ?" Antonio re-
plied, " I am as like to call you so again, to spit on you
again , and spurn you too. If you will lend me this money,
lend it not to me as a friend , but rather lend it to me as
an enemy, that, if I break, you may with better face exact
the penalty." — " Why, look you, " said Shylock, " how you
storm ! I would be friends with you, and have your love.
I will forget the shames you have put upon me. I will
supply your wants, and take no interest for my money."
This seemingly kind offer greatly surprised Antonio ; and
then Shylock, still pretending kindness, and that all he
did was to gain Antonio's love , again said he would lend
him the three thousand ducats, and take no interest for
his money ; only Antonio should go with him to a lawyer,
and there sign in merry sport a bond, that if he did not
repay the money by a certain day, he would forfeit a pound
of flesh, to be cut off from any part of his body that Shylock
pleased.
66
Content," said Antonio : " I will sign to this bond,
and say there is much kindness in the Jew."
Bassanio said Antonio should not sign to such a bond
for him ; but still Antonio insisted that he would sign it,
for that before the day of payment came , his ships would
return laden with many times the value of the money.
96 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

Shylock, hearing this debate, exclaimed, “ O father

Abraham, what suspicious people these Christians are !
Their own hard dealings teach them to suspect the
thoughts of others. I pray you tell me this , Bassanio :
if he should break his day, what should I gain by the
exaction of the forfeiture ? A pound of man's flesh, taken
from a man, is not so estimable, nor profitable neither, as
the flesh of mutton or beef. I say, to buy this favor I
offer this friendship : if he will take it, so ; if not, adieu . ”
At last, against the advice of Bassanio, who, notwith-
standing all the Jew had said of his kind intentions, did
not like his friend should run the hazard of this shocking
penalty for his sake, Antonio signed the bond , thinking it
really was (as the Jew said) merely in sport.
The rich heiress that Bassanio wished to marry lived
near Venice, at a place called Belmont : her name was
Portia, and in the graces of her person and her mind she
was nothing inferior to that Portia, of whom we read, who
was Cato's daughter, and the wife of Brutus.
Bassanio being so kindly supplied with money by his
friend Antonio, at the hazard of his life , set out for Bel-
mont with a splendid train, and attended by a gentleman
of the name of Gratiano .
Bassanio proving successful in his suit, Portia in a short
time consented to accept of him for a husband.
Bassanio confessed to Portia that he had no fortune, and
that his high birth and noble ancestry were all that he
could boast of; she, who loved him for his worthy qualities,
and had riches enough not to regard wealth in a husband ,
answered with a graceful modesty, that she would wish.
herself a thousand times more fair, and ten thousand times
more rich, to be more worthy of him ; and then the accom-
plished Portia prettily dispraised herself, and said she was
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 97

an unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpractised, yet not so old

but that she could learn, and that she would commit her
gentle spirit to be directed and governed by him in all
things ; and she said , " Myself and what is mine , to you
and yours is now converted. But yesterday, Bassanio , I
was the lady of this fair mansion , queen of myself, and
mistress over these servants ; and now this house, these
servants, and myself, are yours, my lord ; I give them with
this ring " ; presenting a ring to Bassanio .
Bassanio was so overpowered with gratitude and wonder
at the gracious manner in which the rich and noble Portia
accepted of a man of his humble fortunes, that he could
not express his joy and reverence to the dear lady who so
honored him, by any thing but broken words of love and
thankfulness ; and taking the ring, he vowed never to part
with it.
Gratiano and Nerissa , Portia's waiting-maid, were in
attendance upon their lord and lady, when Portia so
gracefully promised to become the obedient wife of Bassa-
nio ; and Gratiano, wishing Bassanio and the generous
lady joy, desired permission to be married at the same
time .
“ With all my heart, Gratiano," said Bassanio , “ if you
can get a wife ."
Gratiano then said that he loved the lady Portia's fair
waiting gentlewoman Nerissa, and that she had promised
to be his wife, if her lady married Bassanio . Portia
asked Nerissa if this was true. Nerissa replied , " Madam,
it is so, if you approve of it. " Portia willingly consent-
ing, Bassanio pleasantly said, " Then our wedding-feast
shall be much honored by your marriage, Gratiano .”
The happiness of these two lovers was sadly crossed at
this moment by the entrance of a messenger, who brought
98 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

a letter from Antonio containing fearful tidings . When

Bassanio read Antonio's letter, Portia feared it was to tell
him of the death of some dear friend , he looked so pale ;
and inquiring what was the news which had so distressed
him, he said, " O sweet Portia, here are a few of the
unpleasantest words that ever blotted paper : gentle lady,
when I first imparted my love to you, I freely told you all
the wealth I had run in my veins ; but I should have told
you that I had less than nothing, being in debt." Bassa-
nio then told Portia what has been here related, of his
borrowing the money of Antonio, and of Antonio's pro-
curing it of Shylock the Jew, and of the bond by which
Antonio had engaged to forfeit a pound of flesh, if it was
not repaid by a certain day : and then Bassanio read
Antonio's letter ; the words of which were, " Sweet Bassa-
nio, my ships are all lost, my bond to the Jew is forfeited,
and since in paying it is impossible I should live, I could
wish to see you at my death ; notwithstanding, use your
pleasure ; if your love for me do not persuade you to come,
let not my letter." "Oh, my dear love," said Portia,
"despatch all business, and begone ; you shall have gold
to pay the money twenty times over, before this kind
friend shall lose a hair by my Bassanio's fault ; and as you
are so dearly bought, I will dearly love you." Portia
then said she would be married to Bassanio before he set
out, to give him a legal right to her money ; and that
same day they were married , and Gratiano was also mar-
ried to Nerissa ; and Bassanio and Gratiano, the instant
they were married, set out in great haste for Venice ,
where Bassanio found Antonio in prison.
The day of payment being past, the cruel Jew would
not accept of the money which Bassanio offered him, but
insisted upon having a pound of Antonio's flesh . A day
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 99

was appointed to try this shocking cause before the Duke

of Venice, and Bassanio awaited in dreadful suspense the
event of the trial.
When Portia parted with her husband, she spoke cheer-
ingly to him , and bade him bring his dear friend along
with him when he returned ; yet she feared it would go
hard with Antonio, and when she was left alone, she
began to think and consider within herself, if she could by
any means be instrumental in saving the life of her dear
Bassanio's friend ; and notwithstanding when she wished
to honor her Bassanio , she had said to him with such a
meek and wife-like grace, that she would submit in all
things to be governed by his superior wisdom, yet being
now called forth into action by the peril of her honored
husband's friend, she did nothing doubt her own powers ,
and by the sole guidance of her own true and perfect
judgment, at once resolved to go herself to Venice, and
speak in Antonio's defence.
Portia had a relation who was a counsellor in the law ;
to this gentleman, whose name was Bellario , she wrote,
and stating the case to him, desired his opinion , and that
with his advice he would also send her the dress worn by
a counsellor. When the messenger returned , he brought
letters from Bellario of advice how to proceed, and also
every thing necessary for her equipment.
Portia dressed herself and her maid Nerissa in men's
apparel, and putting on the robes of a counsellor, she
took Nerissa along with her as her clerk ; and setting out
immediately, they arrived at Venice on the very day of
the trial. The cause was just going to be heard before
the duke and senators of Venice in the senate-house, when
Portia entered this high court of justice, and presented a
letter from Bellario, in which that learned counsellor

940736
100 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

wrote to the duke , saying, he would have come himself to

plead for Antonio, but that he was prevented by sickness,
and he requested that the learned young doctor Balthasar
(so he called Portia) might be permitted to plead in his
stead. This the duke granted, much wondering at the
youthful appearance of the stranger, who was prettily dis-
guised by her counsellor's robes and her large wig.
And now began this important trial . Portia looked
around her, and she saw the merciless Jew ; and she saw
Bassanio, but he knew her not in her disguise . He was
standing beside Antonio, in an agony of distress and fear
for his friend.
The importance of the arduous task Portia had engaged
in gave this tender lady courage, and she boldly proceeded
in the duty she had undertaken to perform : and first of
all she addressed herself to Shylock ; and allowing that he
had a right by the Venetian law to have the forfeit
expressed in the bond, she spoke so sweetly of the noble
quality of mercy, as would have softened any heart but
the unfeeling Shylock's ; saying , that it dropped as the gen-
tle rain from heaven upon the place beneath ; and how
mercy was a double blessing, it blessed him that gave, and
him that received it ; and how it became monarchs better
than their crowns, being an attribute of God himself ; and
that earthly power came nearest to God's, in proportion as
mercy tempered justice ; and she bid Shylock remember
that as we all pray for mercy, that same prayer should

teach us to show mercy. Shylock only answered her by

desiring to have the penalty forfeited in the bond. " Is
he not able to pay the money ? " asked Portia. Bassanio
then offered the Jew the payment of three thousand
ducats as many times over as he should desire ; which
Shylock refusing, and still insisting upon having a pound
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 101

of Antonio's flesh, Bassanio begged the learned young

counsellor would endeavor to wrest the law a little, to
save Antonio's life. But Portia gravely answered, that
laws once established must never be altered . Shylock
hearing Portia say that the law might not be altered , it
seemed to him that she was pleading in his favor, and he
said , " A Daniel is come to judgment ! O wise young
judge, how I do honor you ! How much elder are you
than your looks ?"
Portia now desired Shylock to let her look at the bond ;
and when she had read it, she said, "This bond is forfeited,
and by this the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh,
to be by him cut off nearest Antonio's heart. " Then she
said to Shylock, " Be merciful : take the money, and bid
me tear the bond ." But no mercy would the cruel Shy-
lock show ; and he said, " By my soul I swear, there is no
power in the tongue of man to alter me." - " Why then,
Antonio," said Portia, " you must prepare your bosom for
the knife " : and while Shylock was sharpening a long
knife with great eagerness to cut off the pound of flesh,
Portia said to Antonio, " Have you any thing to say ? "
Antonio with calm resignation replied, that he had but
little to say, for that he had prepared his mind for death .
Then he said to Bassanio, " Give me your hand, Bassanio !
Fare you well ! Grieve not that I am fallen into this
misfortune for you. Commend me to your honorable
wife, and tell her how I have loved you ! " Bassanio in
the deepest affliction replied, " Antonio, I am married to
a wife , who is as dear to me as life itself ; but life itself,
my wife, and all the world, are not esteemed with me
above your life : I would lose all , I would sacrifice all to
this devil here, to deliver you."
Portia hearing this, though the kind-hearted lady was
102 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

not at all offended with her husband for expressing the

love he owed to so true a friend as Antonio in these
strong terms, yet could not help answering, " Your wife
would give you little thanks, if she were present, to hear
you make this offer." And then Gratiano, who loved to
copy what his lord did , thought he must make a speech
like Bassanio's, and he said, in Nerissa's hearing, who was
writing in her clerk's dress by the side of Portia, " I have
a wife, whom I protest I love ; I wish she were in heaven ,
if she could but entreat some power there to change the
cruel temper of this currish Jew." " It is well you wish
this behind her back, else you would have but an unquiet
house," said Nerissa .
Shylock now cried out impatiently, " We trifle time ;
I pray pronounce the sentence." And now all was awful
expectation in the court, and every heart was full of grief
for Antonio.
Portia asked if the scales were ready to weigh the flesh ;
and she said to the Jew, " Shylock, you must have some
surgeon by, lest he bleed to death." Shylock, whose
whole intent was that Antonio should bleed to death, said,
"It is not so named in the bond. " Portia replied, " It is
not so named in the bond, but what of that ? It were
good you did so much for charity." To this all the
answer Shylock would make was " I cannot find it ; it is
not in the bond. " " Then," said Portia, " a pound of
Antonio's flesh is thine . The law allows it and the court
awards it. And you may cut this flesh from off his
breast. The law allows it and the court awards it."
Again Shylock exclaimed, " O wise and upright judge !
A Daniel is come to judgment ! " And then he sharpened
his long knife again, and looking eagerly on Antonio, hẹ
said, " Come, prepare ! "
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 103

" Tarry a little , Jew, " said Portia : " there is something
else. This bond here gives you no drop of blood ; the
words expressly are, ' a pound of flesh .' If in the cutting
off the pound of flesh you shed one drop of Christian blood,
your lands and goods are by the law to be confiscated to
the state of Venice ." Now as it was utterly impossible
for Shylock to cut off the pound of flesh without shedding
some of Antonio's blood, this wise discovery of Portia's,
that it was flesh and not blood that was named in the
bond, saved the life of Antonio ; and all admiring the
wonderful sagacity of the young counsellor, who had so
happily thought of this expedient, plaudits resounded
from every part of the senate-house ; and Gratiano ex-
claimed , in the words which Shylock had used , " O wise
and upright judge ! mark, Jew, a Daniel is come to judg
ment ! "
Shylock, finding himself defeated in his cruel intent,
said with a disappointed look, that he would take the
money ; and Bassanio, rejoiced beyond measure at Anto-
nio's unexpected deliverance, cried out, " Here is the
money ! " But Portia stopped him, saying, " Softly ;
there is no haste ; the Jew shall have nothing but the
penalty therefore prepare, Shylock, to cut off the flesh ;
but mind you shed no blood : nor do not cut off more nor
less than just a pound ; be it more or less by one poor
scruple, nay if the scale turn but by the weight of a single
hair, you are condemned by the laws of Venice to die, and
all your wealth is forfeited to the senate." " Give me my
money, and let me go, " said Shylock. " I have it ready,"
said Bassanio : " here it is ."
Shylock was going to take the money, when Portia
again stopped him, saying, " Tarry, Jew ; I have yet
another hold upon you. By the laws of Venice, your
104 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

wealth is forfeited to the state, for having conspired

against the life of one of its citizens, and your life lies at
the mercy of the duke ; therefore, down on your knees,
and ask him to pardon you ."
The duke then said to Shylock, " That you may see
the difference of our Christian spirit, I pardon you your
life before you ask it ; half your wealth belongs to Anto-
nio, the other half comes to the state."
The generous Antonio then said that he would give up
his share of Shylock's wealth, if Shylock would sign a deed
to make it over at his death to his daughter and her
husband ; for Antonio knew that the Jew had an only
daughter who had lately married against his consent to a
young Christian named Lorenzo, a friend of Antonio's ,
which had so offended Shylock, that he had disinherited
her.
The Jew agreed to this : and being thus disappointed in
his revenge, and despoiled of his riches, he said, " I am ill.
Let me go home ; send the deed after me, and I will sign
over half my riches to my daughter." - " Get thee gone,
then," said the duke, " and sign it ; and if you repent your
cruelty and turn Christian , the state will forgive you the
fine of the other half of your riches ."
The duke now released Antonio, and dismissed the
court. He then highly praised the wisdom and ingenuity
of the young counsellor, and invited him home to dinner.
Portia, who meant to return to Belmont before her hus-
band, replied, " I humbly thank your grace, but I must
away directly." The duke said he was sorry he had not
leisure to stay and dine with him ; and turning to Antonio,
he added , " Reward this gentleman ; for in my mind you
are much indebted to him."
The duke and his senators left the court ; and then
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE . 105

Bassanio said to Portia, " Most worthy gentleman, I and

my friend Antonio have by your wisdom been this day
acquitted of grievous penalties, and I beg you will accept
of the three thousand ducats due unto the Jew." " And
we shall stand indebted to you over and above," said An-
tonio, " in love and service evermore ."
Portia could not be prevailed upon to accept the money ;
but upon Bassanio still pressing her to accept of some
reward, she said, " Give me your gloves ; I will wear them
for your sake ; " and then Bassanio taking off his gloves,
she espied the ring which she had given him upon his
finger : now it was the ring the wily lady wanted to get
from him to make a merry jest when she saw her Bassanio
again , that made her ask him for his gloves ; and she said ,
when she saw the ring, “ and for your love I will take this
ring from you." Bassanio was sadly distressed that the
counsellor should ask him for the only thing he could not
part with, and he replied in great confusion , that he could
not give him that ring, because it was his wife's gift, and
he had vowed never to part with it ; but that he would
give him the most valuable ring in Venice, and find it out
by proclamation . On this Portia affected to be affronted ,
and left the court, saying, " You teach me, sir, how a beg-
gar should be answered."
" Dear Bassanio," said Antonio, " let him have the ring ;
let my love and the great service he has done for me be
valued against your wife's displeasure. " Bassanio, ashamed
to appear so ungrateful, yielded, and sent Gratiano after
Portia with the ring ; and then the clerk Nerissa, who had
also given Gratiano a ring, she begged his ring, and Gratiano
(not choosing to be outdone in generosity by his lord ) gave
it to her. And there was laughing among these ladies to
think, when they got home, how they would tax their
106 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

husbands with giving away their rings, and swear that

they had given them as a present to some woman .
Portia, when she returned , was in that happy temper
of mind which never fails to attend the consciousness of
having performed a good action ; her cheerful spirits en-
joyed every thing she saw : the moon never seemed to shine
so bright before ; and when that pleasant moon was hid
behind a cloud, then a light which she saw from her house
at Belmont as well pleased her charmed fancy, and she
said to Nerissa, " That light we see is burning in my hall ;
how far that little candle throws its beams, so shines a
good deed in a naughty world ; " and hearing the sound
of music from her house, she said, " Methinks that music
sounds much sweeter than by day."
And now Portia and Nerissa entered the house, and
dressing themselves in their own apparel, they awaited
the arrival of their husbands, who soon followed them with
Antonio ; and Bassanio presenting his dear friend to the
lady Portia, the congratulations and welcomings of that
lady were hardly over, when they perceived Nerissa and
her husband quarrelling in a corner of the room. " A quar-
rel already ? " said Portia. "What is the matter ? " Gra-
tiano replied, " Lady, it is about a paltry gilt ring that
Nerissa gave me, with words upon it like the poetry on
a cutler's knife ; Love me, and leave me not."
"What does the poetry or the value of the ring signify? "
said Nerissa . " You swore to me when I gave it to you,
that you would keep it till the hour of death ; and now
you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk. I know you
gave it to a woman." -" By this hand," replied Gratiano,
" I gave it to a youth, a kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
no higher than yourself ; he was clerk to the young coun-
sellor that by his wise pleading saved Antonio's life : this
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 107

prating boy begged it for a fee, and I could not for my life
deny him ." Portia said, " You were to blame, Gratiano,
to part with your wife's first gift. I gave my lord Bassanio
a ring, and I am sure he would not part with it for all the
world." Gratiano, in excuse for his fault, now said, " My
lord Bassanio gave his ring away to the counsellor, and
then the boy, his clerk, that took some pains in writing, he
begged my ring."
Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry, and reproached
Bassanio for giving away her ring ; and she said, Nerissa
had taught her what to believe, and that she knew some
woman had the ring. Bassanio was very unhappy to have
so offended his dear lady, and he said with great earnestness ,
"No, by my honor, no woman had it, but a civil doctor,
who refused three thousand ducats of me, and begged the
ring, which when I denied him, he went displeased away.
What could I do , sweet Portia ? I was so beset with shame
for my seeming ingratitude, that I was forced to send the
ring after him . Pardon me, good lady ; had you been there,
I think you would have begged the ring of me to give the
worthy doctor. ”
" Ah ! " said Antonio, " I am the unhappy cause of these
quarrels."
Portia bid Antonio not to grieve at that, for that he was
welcome notwithstanding ; and then Antonio said, " I once
did lend my body for Bassanio's sake ; and but for him to
whom your husband gave the ring, I should have now been
dead. I dare be bound again , my soul upon the forfeit,
your lord will nevermore break his faith with you."
"Then you shall be his surety," said Portia ; " give him
this ring, and bid him keep it better than the other."
When Bassanio looked at this ring, he was strangely
surprised to find it was the same he gave away ; and then
108 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Portia told him how she was the young counsellor, and
Nerissa was her clerk ; and Bassanio found , to his un-
speakable wonder and delight, that it was by the noble
courage and wisdom of his wife that Antonio's life was
saved.
And Portia again welcomed Antonio, and gave him let-
ters which by some chance had fallen into her hands ,
which contained an account of Antonio's ships, that were
supposed lost, being safely arrived in the harbor. So these
tragical beginnings of this rich merchant's story were all
forgotten in the unexpected good fortune which ensued ;
and there was leisure to laugh at the comical adventure of
the rings, and the husbands that did not know their own
wives : Gratiano merrily swearing, in a sort of rhyming
speech, that
while he lived , he'd fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
 CYMBELINE. 109

CYMBELINE.

URING the time of Augustus Cæsar, Emperor of

DU
Rome, there reigned in England (which was then
called Britain ) a king whose name was Cymbeline.
Cymbeline's first wife died when his three children (two
sons and a daughter) were very young. Imogen, the
eldest of these children , was brought up in her father's
court ; but by a strange chance the two sons of Cymbeline
were stolen out of their nursery, when the eldest was but
three years of age, and the youngest quite an infant ; and
Cymbeline could never discover what was become of them ,
or by whom they were conveyed away.
Cymbeline was twice married ; his second wife was a
wicked, plotting woman, and a cruel step-mother to Imo-
gen, Cymbeline's daughter by his first wife .
The queen, though she hated Imogen, yet wished her to
marry a son of her own by a former husband (she also
having been twice married) : for by this means she hoped
upon the death of Cymbeline to place the crown of Bri-
tain upon the head of her son Cloten ; for she knew that, if
the king's sons were not found, the princess Imogen must
be the king's heir. But this design was prevented by
Imogen herself, who married without the consent or even
knowledge of her father or the queen.
Posthumus (for that was the name of Imogen's hus-
band) was the best scholar and most accomplished gentle-
man of that age. His father died fighting in the wars for
110 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Cymbeline, and soon after his birth his mother died also
for grief at the loss of her husband .
Cymbeline, pitying the helpless state of this orphan,
took Posthumus (Cymbeline having given him that
name, because he was born after his father's death) , and
educated him in his own court.
Imogen and Posthumus were both taught by the same
masters, and were playfellows from their infancy ; they
loved each other tenderly when they were children , and ,
their affection continuing to increase with their years ,
when they grew up they privately married .
The disappointed queen soon learned this secret, for she
kept spies constantly in watch upon the actions of her
daughter-in-law, and she immediately told the king of the
marriage of Imogen with Posthumus.
Nothing could exceed the wrath of Cymbeline, when he
heard that his daughter had been so forgetful of her high
dignity as to marry a subject . He commanded Posthumus
to leave Britain, and banished him from his native country
forever.
The queen, who pretended to pity Imogen for the grief
she suffered at losing her husband, offered to procure them
a private meeting before Posthumus set out on his journey
to Rome, which place he had chosen for his residence in
his banishment : this seeming kindness she showed, the
better to succeed in her future designs in regard to her
son Cloten ; for she meant to persuade Imogen, when her
husband was gone, that her marriage was not lawful, being
contracted without the consent of the king.
Imogen and Posthumus took a most affectionate leave
of each other. Imogen gave her husband a diamond ring ,
which had been her mother's, and Posthumus promised
never to part with the ring ; and he fastened a bracelet on
 CYMBELINE. 111

the arm of his wife, which he begged she would preserve

with great care, as a token of his love ; they then bid each
other farewell, with many vows of everlasting love and
fidelity .
Imogen remained a solitary and dejected lady in her
father's court, and Posthumus arrived at Rome, the place
he had chosen for his banishment.
Posthumus fell into company at Rome with some gay
young men of different nations, who were talking freely of
ladies each one praising the ladies of his own country,
and his own mistress . Posthumus, who had ever his own
dear lady in his mind , affirmed that his wife , the fair
Imogen, was the most virtuous, wise, and constant lady in
the world.
One of those gentlemen, whose name was Iachimo, being
offended that a lady of Britain should be so praised above
the Roman ladies, his country-women, provoked Posthu-
mus by seeming to doubt the constancy of his so highly-
praised wife ; and at length, after much altercation , Pos-
thumus consented to a proposal of Iachimo's , that he
(Iachimo) should go to Britain , and endeavor to gain the
love of the married Imogen . They then laid a wager,
that if Iachimo did not succeed in this wicked design, he
was to forfeit a large sum of money ; but if he could win
Imogen's favor, and prevail upon her to give him the
bracelet which Posthumus had so earnestly desired she
would keep as a token of his love, then the wager was to
terminate with Posthumus giving to Iachimo the ring ,
which was Imogen's love present when she parted with
her husband . Such firm faith had Posthumus in the
fidelity of Imogen, that he thought he ran no hazard in
this trial of her honor.
Iachimo, on his arrival in Britain , gained admittance ,
112 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

and a courteous welcome from Imogen, as a friend of her

husband ; but when he began to make professions of love
to her, she repulsed him with disdain , and he soon found
that he could have no hope of succeeding in his dishonora-
ble design .
The desire Iachimo had to win the wager made him
have recourse to a stratagem to impose upon Posthumus ,
and for this purpose he bribed some of Imogen's attend-
ants, and was by them conveyed into her bed-chamber,
concealed in a large trunk, where he remained shut up till
Imogen was retired to rest, and had fallen asleep ; and
then getting out of the trunk, he examined the chamber
with great attention, and wrote down every thing he saw
there, and particularly noticed a mole which he observed
upon Imogen's neck, and then softly unloosing the brace-
let from her arm, which Posthumus had given to her, he
retired into the chest again ; and the next day he set off
for Rome with great expedition, and boasted to Posthumus
that Imogen had given him the bracelet, and likewise per-
mitted him to pass a night in her chamber : and in this
manner Iachimo told his false tale : " Her bed-chamber, ”
said he, " was hung with tapestry of silk and silver, the
story was the proud Cleopatra when she met her Anthony,
a piece of work most bravely wrought."
" This is true," said Posthumus ; " but this you might
have heard spoken of without seeing."
" Then the chimney," said Iachimo, " is south of the
chamber, and the chimney-piece is Diana bathing ; never
saw I figures livelier expressed."
" This is a thing you might have likewise heard," said
Posthumus ; " for it is much talked of."
Iachimo as accurately described the roof of the cham-
ber ; and added, “ I had almost forgot her andirons ; they
 CYMBELINE. 113

were two winking Cupids made of silver, each on one foot

standing. " He then took out the bracelet, and said,
" Know you this jewel, sir ? She gave me this. 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." He last of all described the
mole he had observed upon her neck.
Posthumus, who had heard the whole of this artful
recital in an agony of doubt, now broke out into the most
passionate exclamations against Imogen . He delivered
up the diamond ring to Iachimo, which he agreed to
forfeit to him , if he obtained the bracelet from Imogen.
Posthumus then in a jealous rage wrote to Pisanio, a
gentleman of Britain , who was one of Imogen's attend-
ants, and had long been a faithful friend to Posthumus ;
and after telling him what proof he had of his wife's dis-
loyalty, he desired Pisanio would take Imogen to Milford-
Haven, a seaport of Wales, and there kill her. And at
the same time he wrote a deceitful letter to Imogen,
desiring her to go with Pisanio, for that finding he could
live no longer without seeing her, though he was forbidden
upon pain of death to return to Britain , he would come to
Milford-Haven, at which place he begged she would meet
him. She, good unsuspecting lady, who loved her hus-
band above all things, and desired more than her life to
see him, hastened her departure with Pisanio , and the
same night she received the letter she set out.
When their journey was nearly at an end, Pisanio who,
though faithful to Posthumus, was not faithful to serve
him in an evil deed , disclosed to Imogen the cruel order
he had received.
Imogen, who, instead of meeting a loving and beloved
husband, found herself doomed by that husband to suffer
death, was afflicted beyond measure .
114 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

Pisanio persuaded her to take comfort, and wait with

patient fortitude for the time when Posthumus should see
and repent his injustice : in the mean time, as she refused
in her distress to return to her father's court, he advised
her to dress herself in boy's clothes for more security in
travelling ; to which advice she agreed, and thought in
that disguise she would go over to Rome, and see her
husband, whom, though he had used her so barbarously,
she could not forget to love.
When Pisanio had provided her with her new apparel,
he left her to her uncertain fortune, being obliged to
return to court ; but before he departed he gave her a
phial of cordial, which he said the queen had given him as
a sovereign remedy in all disorders .
The queen, who hated Pisanio, because he was a friend
to Imogen and Posthumus, gave him this phial , which she
supposed contained poison, she having ordered her physi-
cian to give her some poison, to try its effects (as she
said) upon animals ; but the physician, knowing her
malicious disposition , would not trust her with real poison ,
but gave her a drug which would do no other mischief
than causing a person to sleep with every appearance of
death for a few hours . This mixture, which Pisanio
thought a choice cordial, he gave to Imogen, desiring her,
if she found herself ill upon the road, to take it ; and so ,
with blessings and prayers for her safety and happy
deliverance from her undeserved troubles, he left her.
Providence strangely directed Imogen's steps to the
dwelling of her two brothers, who had been stolen away
in their infancy. Bellarius, who stole them away, was a
lord in the court of Cymbeline, and having been falsely
accused to the king of treason, and banished from the
court, in revenge he stole away the two sons of Cymbeline ,
 CYMBELINE. 115

and brought them up in a forest, where he lived concealed

in a cave . He stole them through revenge, but he soon
loved them as tenderly as if they had been his own chil-
dren, educated them carefully, and they grew up fine
youths, their princely spirits leading them to bold and
daring actions ; and as they subsisted by hunting, they
were active and hardy, and were always pressing their
supposed father to let them seek their fortune in the
wars .
At the cave where these youths dwelt it was Imogen's
fortune to arrive . She had lost her way in a large forest,
through which her road lay to Milford-Haven (from which
she meant to embark for Rome) ; and being unable to find
any place where she could purchase food, she was with
weariness and hunger almost dying ; for it is not merely
putting on a man's apparel that will enable a young lady,
tenderly brought up , to bear the fatigue of wandering
about lonely forests like a man. Seeing this cave, she
entered, hoping to find some one within of whom she
could procure food. She found the cave empty, but look-
ing about she discovered some cold meat, and her hunger
was so pressing, that she could not wait for an invitation ,
but sat down and began to eat. " Ah," said she, talking
to herself, " I see a man's life is a tedious one ; how tired
am I ! for two nights together I have made the ground
my bed : my resolution helps me, or I should be sick.
When Pisanio showed me Milford-Haven from the moun-
tain top, how near it seemed ! " Then the thoughts of
her husband and his cruel mandate came across her, and
she said, " My dear Posthumus, thou art a false one ! "
The two brothers of Imogen, who had been hunting
.
with their reputed father, Bellarius, were by this time
returned home. Bellarius had given them the names of
116 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Polydore and Cadwal, and they knew no better, but sup-

posed that Bellarius was their father ; but the real names
of these princes were Guiderius and Arviragus.
Bellarius entered the cave first, and seeing Imogen,
stopped them , saying, " Come not in yet ; it eats our
victuals, or I should think it was a fairy."
"What is the matter, sir ? " said the young men. " By
Jupiter," said Bellarius again , " there is an angel in the
cave, or if not, an earthly paragon." So beautiful did
Imogen look in her boy's apparel.
She, hearing the sound of voices, came forth from the
cave, and addressed them in these words : " Good masters ,
do not harm me ; before I entered your cave, I had
thought to have begged or bought what I have eaten .
Indeed I have stolen nothing, nor would I, though I had
found gold strewed on the floor. Here is money for my
meat, which I would have left on the board when I had
made my meal, and parted with prayers for the provider." .
66 see
"I
They refused her money with great earnestness .
you are angry with me," said the timid Imogen ; " but,
sirs, if you kill me for my fault, know that I should have
died if I had not made it."
" Whither are you bound ? " asked Bellarius, " and what
is your name ?"
"Fidele is my name," answered Imogen. " I have a
kinsman, who is bound for Italy ; he embarked at Milford-
Haven, to whom being going, almost spent with hunger, I
am fallen into this offence. "
" Prithee, fair youth," said old Bellarius , " do not think
us churls, nor measure our good minds by this rude place
we live in. You are well encountered ; it is almost night.
You shall have better cheer before you depart, and thanks
to stay and eat it. Boys, bid him welcome."
 CYMBELINE. 117

The gentle youths, her brothers, then welcomed Imogen

to their cave with many kind expressions, saying they
would love her (or, as they said, him) as a brother ; and
they entered the cave, where (they having killed venison
when they were hunting) Imogen delighted them with her
neat housewifery, assisting them in preparing their sup-
per ; for though it is not the custom now for young
women of high birth to understand cookery, it was then ,
and Imogen excelled in this useful art ; and, as her
brothers prettily expressed it, Fidele cut their roots in
characters, and sauced their broth, as if Juno had been
sick, and Fidele were her dieter. " And then," said Poly-
dore to his brother, " how angel-like he sings ! "
They also remarked to each other, that though Fidele
smiled so sweetly, yet so sad a melancholy did overcloud
his lovely face, as if grief and patience had together taken
possession of him.
For these her gentle qualities (or perhaps it was their
near relationship , though they knew it not) Imogen (or, as
the boys called her, Fidele) became the doting-piece of her
brothers, and she scarcely less loved them , thinking that
but for the memory of her dear Posthumus, she could live
and die in the cave with these wild forest youths ; and she
gladly consented to stay with them , till she was enough
rested from the fatigue of travelling to pursue her way to
Milford-Haven.
When the venison they had taken was all eaten, and
they were going out to hunt for more, Fidele could not
accompany them because she was unwell. Sorrow, no
doubt, for her husband's cruel usage, as well as the
fatigue of wandering in the forest, was the cause of her
illness .
They then bid her farewell , and went to their hunt,
118 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

praising all the way the noble parts and graceful demeanor
of the youth Fidele .
Imogen was no sooner left alone than she recollected
the cordial Pisanio had given her, and drank it off, and
presently fell into a sound and deathlike sleep .
When Bellarius and her brothers returned from hunt-
ing, Polydore went first into the cave, and supposing her
asleep, pulled off his heavy shoes, that he might tread
softly and not awake her ; so did true gentleness spring
up in the minds of these princely foresters ; but he soon
discovered that she could not be awakened by any noise,
and concluded her to be dead, and Polydore lamented over
her with dear and brotherly regret, as if they had never
from their infancy been parted .
Bellarius also proposed to carry her out into the forest ,
and there celebrate her funeral with songs and solemn
dirges, as was then the custom.
Imogen's two brothers then carried her to a shady cov-
ert, and there laying her gently on the grass, they sang
repose to her departed spirit, and covering her over with
leaves and flowers , Polydore said, " While summer lasts
and I live here, Fidele, I will daily strew thy grave. The
pale primrose, that flower most like thy face ; the blue-
bell, like thy clear veins ; and the leaf of eglantine , which
is not sweeter than was thy breath ; all these will I strew
over thee. Yea, and the furred moss in winter, when
there are no flowers to cover thy sweet corse."
When they had finished her funeral obsequies they
departed very sorrowful .
Imogen had not been long left alone, when, the effect
of the sleepy drug going off, she waked, and easily shak-
ing off the slight covering of leaves and flowers they had
thrown over her, she arose , and imagining she had been
 CYMBELINE . 119

dreaming, she said , " I thought I was a cave-keeper, and

cook to honest creatures ; how came I here covered with
flowers ?" Not being able to find her way back to the
cave, and seeing nothing of her new companions , she con-
cluded it was certainly all a dream ; and once more
Imogen set out on her weary pilgrimage, hoping at last
she should find her way to Milford -Haven , and thence get
a passage in some ship bound for Italy ; for all her
thoughts were still with her husband Posthumus, whom
she intended to seek in the disguise of a page.
But great events were happening at this time, of which
Imogen knew nothing ; for a war had suddenly broken
out between the Roman emperor Augustus Cæsar and
Cymbeline, the king of Britain ; and a Roman army had
landed to invade Britain, and was advanced into the very
forest over which Imogen was journeying. With this
army came Posthumus .
Though Posthumus came over to Britain with the
Roman army, he did not mean to fight on their side
against his own countrymen , but intended to join the
army of Britain , and fight in the cause of the king who
had banished him .
He still believed Imogen false to him ; yet the death of
her he had so fondly loved , and by his own orders too
(Pisanio having written him a letter to say he had obeyed
his command, and that Imogen was dead) , sat heavy on
his heart, and therefore he returned to Britain, desiring
either to be slain in battle, or to be put to death by Cym-
beline for returning home from banishment.
Imogen, before she reached Milford- Haven , fell into the
hands of the Roman army ; and her presence and deport-
ment recommending her, she was made a page to Lucius,
the Roman general .
120 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Cymbeline's army now advanced to meet the enemy,

and when they entered this forest, Polydore and Cadwal
joined the king's army. The young men were eager to
engage in acts of valor, though they little thought they
were going to fight for their own royal father : and old
Bellarius went with them to the battle. He had long
since repented of the injury he had done to Cymbeline in
carrying away his sons ; and having been a warrior in his
youth, he gladly joined the army to fight for the king he
had so injured .
And now a great battle commenced between the two
armies, and the Britons would have been defeated, and
Cymbeline himself killed , but for the extraordinary valor
of Posthumus and Bellarius, and the two sons of Cym-
beline. They rescued the king, and saved his life, and so
entirely turned the fortunes of the day, that the Britons
gained the victory .
When the battle was over, Posthumus, who had not
found the death he sought for, surrendered himself up to
one of the officers of Cymbeline, willing to suffer the
death which was to be his punishment if he returned from
banishment.
Imogen and the master she served were taken prisoners,
and brought before Cymbeline, as was also her old enemy
Iachimo, who was an officer in the Roman army ; and
when these prisoners were before the king, Posthumus
was brought in to receive his sentence of death ; and at
this strange juncture of time, Bellarius with Polydore and
Cadwal were also brought before Cymbeline, to receive
the rewards due to the great services they had by their
valor done for the king . Pisanio, being one of the king's
attendants, was likewise present .
Therefore there were now standing in the king's pres-
 CYMBELINE. 121

ence (but with very different hopes and fears) Posthumus

and Imogen, with her new master the Roman general ;
the faithful servant Pisanio, and the false friend Iachimo ;
and likewise the two lost sons of Cymbeline , with Bel-
larius, who had stolen them away.
The Roman general was the first who spoke ; the rest
stood silent before the king, though there was many a
beating heart among them.
Imogen saw Posthumus, and knew him, though he was
in the disguise of a peasant ; but he did not know her in
her male attire : and she knew Iachimo, and she saw a ring
on his finger which she perceived to be her own , but she
did not know him as yet to have been the author of all
her troubles : and she stood before her own father a pris-
oner of war.
Pisanio knew Imogen , for it was he who had dressed
her in the garb of a boy. " It is my mistress," thought
he ; " since she is living, let the time run on to good or
bad." Bellarius knew her too , and softly said to Cadwal,
"Is not this boy revived from death ? " -" One sand,"
replied Cadwal, “ does not more resemble another than
that sweet rosy lad is like the dead Fidele . ” — “ The same
dead thing alive , " said Polydore . " Peace , peace,” said
Bellarius ; " if it were he, I am sure he would have spoken
to us." " But we saw him dead," again whispered
Polydore. " Be silent," replied Bellarius.
Posthumus waited in silence to hear the welcome sen-
tence of his own death ; and he resolved not to disclose to
the king that he had saved his life in the battle, lest that
should move Cymbeline to pardon him .
Lucius, the Roman general, who had taken Imogen
under his protection as his page, was the first (as has
been before said) who spoke to the king. He was a man
122 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

of high courage and noble dignity, and this was his speech
to the king : -
“ I hear you take no ransom for your prisoners, but
doom them all to death : I am a Roman, and with a
Roman heart will suffer death. But there is one thing for
which I would entreat." Then bringing Imogen before
the king, he said, " This boy is a Briton born . Let him
be ransomed. He is my page. Never master had a page
so kind, so duteous, so diligent on all occasions, so true , so
nurse-like . He hath done no Briton wrong, though he
hath served a Roman . Save him, if you spare no one
beside."
Cymbeline looked earnestly on his daughter Imogen.
He knew her not in that disguise ; but it seemned that all-
powerful Nature spake in his heart, for he said, " I have
surely seen him, his face appears familiar to me. I know
not why or wherefore I say, Live, boy ; but I give you your
life, and ask of me what boon you will, and I will grant it
you. Yea, even though it be the life of the noblest prisoner
I have."
" I humbly thank your highness," said Imogen .
What was then called granting a boon was the same as
a promise to give any one thing, whatever it might be, that
the person on whom that favor was conferred chose to ask
for. They all were attentive to hear what thing the page
would ask for ; and Lucius her master said to her, “ I
do not beg my life, good lad, but I know that is what
you will ask for. " — " No, no, alas ! " said Imogen , “ I
have other work in hand, good master ; your life I cannot
ask for."
This seeming want of gratitude in the boy astonished
the Roman general .
Imogen then, fixing her eye on Iachimo , demanded no
 CYMBELINE. 123

other boon than this : that Iachimo, should be made to

confess whence he had the ring he wore on his finger.
Cymbeline granted her this boon , and threatened Iachi-
mo with the torture if he did not confess how he came by
the diamond ring on his finger.
Iachimo then made a full acknowledgment of all his
villany, telling, as he had before related , the whole story
of his wager with Posthumus, and how he had succeeded
in imposing upon his credulity.
What Posthumus felt at hearing this proof of the inno-
cence of his lady cannot be expressed . He instantly came
forward, and confessed to Cymbeline the cruel sentence
which he had enjoined Pisanio to execute upon the prin-
cess ; exclaiming wildly, " O Imogen , my queen , my life,
my wife ! O Imogen , Imogen , Imogen !
Imogen could not see her beloved husband in this dis-
tress without discovering herself, to the unutterable joy of
Posthumus, who was thus relieved from a weight of guilt
and woe , and restored to the good graces of the dear lady
he had so cruelly treated.
Cymbeline, almost as much overwhelmed as he with joy,
at finding his lost daughter so strangely recovered , received
her to her former place in his fatherly affection , and not
only gave her husband Posthumus his life, but consented
to acknowledge him for his son-in-law .
Bellarius chose this time of joy and reconciliation to
make his confession . He presented Polydore and Cadwal
to the king, telling him they were his two lost sons Guide-
rius and Arviragus .
Cymbeline forgave old Bellarius ; for who could think
of punishments at a season of such universal happiness ?
To find his daughter living, and his lost sons in the per-
sons of his young deliverers, that he had seen so bravely
fight in his defence, was unlooked for joy indeed !
124 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Imogen was now at leisure to perform good services for

her late master, the Roman general Lucius, whose life the
king her father readily granted at her request ; and by the
mediation of the same Lucius a peace was concluded
between the Romans and the Britons, which was kept
inviolate many years .
How Cymbeline's wicked queen, through despair of
bringing her projects to pass, and touched with remorse of
conscience , sickened and died , having first lived to see her
foolish son Cloten slain in a quarrel which he had provoked,
are events too tragical to interrupt this happy conclusion
by more than merely touching upon . It is sufficient that
all were made happy who were deserving ; and even the
treacherous Iachimo, in consideration of his villany having
missed its final aim, was dismissed without punishment .
 KING LEAR. 125

KING LEAR.

EAR, king of Britain, had three daughters ; Goneril,

wife to the duke of Albany ; Regan, wife to the duke
of Cornwall ; and Cordelia, a young maid, for whose love
the king of France and the duke of Burgundy were joint
suitors, and were at this time making stay for that purpose
in the court of Lear.
The old king, worn out with age and the fatigues of
government, he being more than fourscore years old , deter-
mined to take no further part in state affairs, but to leave
the management to younger strengths, that he might have
time to prepare for death , which must at no long period
ensue . With this intent he called his three daughters to
him , to know from their own lips which of them loved him
best, that he might part his kingdom among them in such
proportions as their affection for him should seem to de-
serve.
Goneril, the eldest, declared that she loved her father
more than words could give out, that he was dearer to her
than the light of her own eyes, dearer than life and liberty ,
with a deal of such professing stuff, which is easy to coun-
terfeit where there is no real love, only a few fine words
delivered with confidence being wanted in that case. The
king, delighted to hear from her own mouth this assurance
of her love, and thinking truly that her heart went with it,
in a fit of fatherly fondness bestowed upon her and her
husband one-third of his ample kingdom .
126 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Then calling to him his second daughter, he demanded

what she had to say. Regan, who was made of the same
hollow metal as her sister, was not a whit behind in her
professions, but rather declared that what her sister had
spoken came short of the love which she professed to bear
for his highness ; insomuch that she found all other joys
dead, in comparison with the pleasure which she took in
the love of her dear king and father.
Lear blessed himself in having such loving children , as
he thought ; and could do no less, after the handsome
assurances which Regan had made, than bestow a third of
his kingdom upon her and her husband, equal in size to
that which he had already given away to Goneril.
Then turning to his youngest daughter Cordelia, whom
he called his joy, he asked what she had to say, thinking
no doubt that she would glad his ears with the same
loving speeches which her sisters had uttered, or rather
that her expressions would be so much stronger than
theirs, as she had always been his darling, and favored by
him above either of them. But Cordelia, disgusted with
the flattery of her sisters, whose hearts she knew were far
from their lips, and seeing that all their coaxing speeches
were only intended to wheedle the old king out of his
dominions, that they and their husbands might reign in
-
his lifetime, made no other reply but this , - that she
loved his majesty according to her duty, neither more nor
less .
The king, shocked with this appearance of ingratitude
in his favorite child , desired her to consider her words ,
and to mend her speech, lest it should mar her fortunes.
Cordelia then told her father, that he was her father,
that he had given her breeding, and loved her ; that she
returned those duties back as was most fit, and did obey
 KING LEAR. 127

him, love him, and most honor him. But that she could
not frame her mouth to such large speeches as her sisters
had done, or promise to love nothing else in the world ,
Why had her sisters husbands, if (as they said) they had
no love for any thing but their father ? If she should ever
wed, she was sure the lord to whom she gave her hand
would want half her love, half of her care and duty ; she
should never marry like her sisters , to love her father all.
Cordelia, who in earnest loved her old father even
almost as extravagantly as her sisters pretended to do,
would have plainly told him so at any other time, in more
daughter-like and loving terms , and without these qualifi-
cations, which did indeed sound a little ungracious ; but
after the crafty flattering speeches of her sisters, which she
had seen draw such extravagant rewards, she thought the
handsomest thing she could do was to love and be silent.
This put her affection out of suspicion of mercenary ends,
and showed that she loved , but not for gain ; and that her
professions, the less ostentatious they were, had so much
the more of truth and sincerity than her sisters '.
This plainness of speech, which Lear called pride, so
enraged the old monarch- who in his best of times
always showed much of spleen and rashness, and in whom
the dotage incident to old age had so clouded over his
reason, that he could not discern truth from flattery, nor
a gay painted speech from words that came from the heart
— that in a fury of resentment he retracted the third part
of his kingdom which yet remained , and which he had
reserved for Cordelia, and gave it away from her, sharing
it equally between her two sisters and their husbands, the
dukes of Albany and Cornwall ; whom he now called to
him, and in presence of all his courtiers bestowing a cor-
onet between them, invested them jointly with all the
128 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

power, revenue, and execution of government , only re-

taining to himself the name of king ; all the rest of
royalty he resigned ; with this reservation , that himself,
with a hundred knights for his attendants, was to be
maintained by monthly course in each of his daughters'
palaces in turn.
So preposterous a disposal of his kingdom, so little
guided by reason, and so much by passion, filled all his
courtiers with astonishment and sorrow ; but none of
them had the courage to interpose between this incensed
king and his wrath, except the earl of Kent, who was
beginning to speak a good word for Cordelia, when the
passionate Lear on pain of death commanded him to
desist ; but the good Kent was not so to be repelled. He
had been ever loyal to Lear, whom he had honored as a
king, loved as a father, followed as a master ; and he had
never esteemed his life further than as a pawn to wage
against his royal master's enemies, nor feared to lose it
when Lear's safety was the motive ; nor now that Lear
was most his own enemy, did this faithful servant of the
king forget his old principles, but manfully opposed Lear,
to do Lear good ; and was unmannerly only because Lear
was mad. He had been a most faithful counsellor in
times past to the king, and he besought him now, that he
would see with his eyes (as he had done in many weighty
matters ) , and go by his advice still ; and in his best con-
sideration recall this hideous rashness : for he would
answer with his life, his judgment that Lear's youngest
daughter did not love him least, nor were those empty-
hearted whose low sound gave no token of hollowness.
When power bowed to flattery, honor was bound to
plainness . For Lear's threats, what could he do to him,
whose life was already at his service ? That should not
hinder duty from speaking .
 KING LEAR. 129

The honest freedom of this good earl of Kent only

stirred up the king's wrath the more, and like a frantic
patient who kills his physician, and loves his mortal
disease, he banished this true servant, and allotted him
but five days to make his preparations for departure ; but
if on the sixth his hated person was found within the
realm of Britain, that moment was to be his death . And
Kent bade farewell to the king , and said, that since he
chose to show himself in such fashion, it was but banish-
ment to stay there ; and before he went, he recommended
Cordelia to the protection of the gods, the maid who had
so rightly thought, and so discreetly spoken ; and only
wished that her sisters ' large speeches might be answered
with deeds of love ; and then he went, as he said, to shape
his old course to a new country.
The king of France and duke of Burgundy were now
called in to hear the determination of Lear about his
youngest daughter, and to know whether they would per-
sist in their courtship to Cordelia, now that she was under
her father's displeasure, and had no fortune but her own
person to recommend her : and the duke of Burgundy
declined the match, and would not take her to wife upon
such conditions ; but the king of France, understanding
what the nature of the fault had been which had lost her
the love of her father, that it was only a tardiness of
speech, and the not being able to frame her tongue to
flattery like her sisters , took this young maid by the hand ,
and saying that her virtues were a dowry above a king-
dom , bade Cordelia to take farewell of her sisters and of
her father, though he had been unkind, and she should go
with him, and be queen of him and of fair France, and
reign over fairer possessions than her sisters : and he
called the duke of Burgundy in contempt a waterish duke,
130 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

because his love for this young maid had in a moment run
all away like water.
Then Cordelia with weeping eyes took leave of her
sisters, and besought them to love their father well, and
make good their professions : and they sullenly told her
not to prescribe to them, for they knew their duty : but to
strive to content her husband, who had taken her (as they
tauntingly expressed it) as Fortune's alms. And Cordelia
with a heavy heart departed , for she knew the cunning of
her sisters, and she wished her father in better hands than
she was about to leave him in.
Cordelia was no sooner gone, than the devilish disposi-
tions of her sisters began to show themselves in their true
colors . Even before the expiration of the first month,
which Lear was to spend by agreement with his eldest
daughter Goneril, the old king began to find out the
difference between promises and performances . This
wretch having got from her father all that he had to
bestow, even to the giving away of the crown from off his
head, began to grudge even those small remnants of
royalty which the old man had reserved to himself, to
please his fancy with the idea of being still a king. She
could not bear to see him and his hundred knights.
Every time she met her father, she put on a frowning
countenance ; and when the old man wanted to speak with
her, she would feign sickness, or any thing to be rid of the
sight of him ; for it was plain that she esteemed his old
age a useless burden, and his attendants an unnecessary
expense : not only she herself slackened in her expressions
of duty to the king, but by her example, and (it is to be
feared) not without her private instructions , her very
servants affected to treat him with neglect, and would
either refuse to obey his orders, or still more contemptu-
 KING LEAR . 131

ously pretend not to hear them. Lear could not but per-
ceive this alteration in the behavior of his daughter, but
he shut his eyes against it as long as he could , as people
commonly are unwilling to believe the unpleasant conse-
quences which their own mistakes and obstinacy have
brought upon them.
True love and fidelity are no more to be estranged by
ill, than falsehood and hollow-heartedness can be con-
ciliated by good, usage. This eminently appears in the
instance of the good earl of Kent, who, though banished
by Lear, and his life made forfeit if he were found in
Britain, chose to stay and abide all consequences, as long
as there was a chance of his being useful to the king his
master. See to what mean shifts and disguises poor
loyalty is forced to submit sometimes ; yet it counts noth-
ing base or unworthy, so as it can but do service where it
owes an obligation ! In the disguise of a serving man , all
his greatness and pomp laid aside, this good earl proffered
his services to the king, who, not knowing him to be Kent
in that disguise, but pleased with a certain plainness , or
rather bluntness in his answers, which the earl put on (so
different from that smooth oily flattery which he had so
much reason to be sick of, having found the effects not
answerable in his daughter) , a bargain was quickly struck,
and Lear took Kent into his service by the name of Caius,
as he called himself, never suspecting him to be his once
great favorite, the high and mighty earl of Kent.
This Caius quickly found means to show his fidelity and
love to his royal master ; for Goneril's steward that same
day behaving in a disrespectful manner to Lear, and giv-
ing him saucy looks and language, as no doubt he was
secretly encouraged to do by his mistress, Caius, not
enduring to hear so open an affront put upon his majesty,
132 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

made no more ado but presently tripped up his heels, and

laid the unmannerly slave in the kennel ; for which
friendly service Lear became more and more attached to
him.
Nor was Kent the only friend Lear had . In his degree ,
and as far as so insignificant a personage could show his
love, the poor fool, or jester, that had been of his palace
while Lear had a palace, as it was the custom of kings and
great personages at that time to keep a fool (as he was
called) to make them sport after serious business : this
poor fool clung to Lear after he had given away his crown ,
and by his witty sayings would keep up his good humor,
though he could not refrain sometimes from jeering at his
master for his imprudence in uncrowning himself, and
giving all away to his daughters ; at which time, as he
rhymingly expressed it, these daughters

For sudden joy did weep

And he for sorrow sung,
That such a king should play bo-peep,
And go the fools among.

And in such wild sayings, and scraps of songs, of which

he had plenty, this pleasant honest fool poured out his
heart even in the presence of Goneril herself, in many a
bitter taunt and jest which cut to the quick : such as com-
paring the king to the hedge-sparrow, who feeds the young
of the cuckoo till they grow old enough, and then has its
head bit off for its pains ; and saying , that an ass may
know when the cart draws the horse ( meaning that Lear's
daughters, that ought to go behind, now ranked before
their father) ; and that Lear was no longer Lear, but the
shadow of Lear : for which free speeches he was once or
twice threatened to be whipped .
 KING LEAR. 133

The coolness and falling off of respect which Lear had

begun to perceive, were not all which this foolish fond
father was to suffer from his unworthy daughter : she now
plainly told him that his staying in her palace was incon-
venient so long as he insisted upon keeping up an establish-
ment of a hundred knights ; that this establishment was
useless and expensive, and only served to fill her court
with riot and feasting ; and she prayed him that he would
lessen their number, and keep none but old men about him,
such as himself, and fitting his age.
Lear at first could not believe his eyes or ears , nor that
it was his daughter who spoke so unkindly. He could not
believe that she who had received a crown from him could
seek to cut off his train , and grudge him the respect due to
his old age. But she persisting in her undutiful demand,
the old man's rage was so excited, that he called her a
detested kite, and said that she spoke an untruth ; and so
indeed she did, for the hundred knights were all men of
choice behavior and sobriety of manners, skilled in all
particulars of duty, and not given to rioting or feasting,
as she said. And he bid his horses to be prepared , for he
would go to his other daughter, Regan , he and his hundred
knights ; and he spoke of ingratitude, and said it was a
marble-hearted devil, and showed more hideous in a child
than the sea-monster . And he cursed his eldest daughter
Goneril so as was terrible to hear ; praying that she might
never have a child , or if she had, that it might live to
return that scorn and contempt upon her which she had
shown to him that she might feel how sharper than a
serpent's tooth it was to have a thankless child . And
Goneril's husband, the duke of Albany, beginning to
excuse himself for any share which Lear might suppose
he had in the unkindness , Lear would not hear him out,
134 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

but in a rage ordered his horses to be saddled , and set

out with his followers for the abode of Regan, his other
daughter. And Lear thought to himself how small the
fault of Cordelia (if it was a fault) now appeared, in
comparison with her sister's, and he wept ; and then he
was ashamed that such a creature as Goneril should have
so much power over his manhood as to make him weep .
Regan and her husband were keeping their court in
great pomp and state at their palace ; and Lear despatched
his servant Caius with letters to his daughter, that she
might be prepared for his reception , while he and his train
followed after. But it seems that Goneril had been before-
hand with him, sending letters also to Regan, accusing her
father of waywardness and ill humors, and advising her
not to receive so great a train as he was bringing with him.
This messenger arrived at the same time with Caius, and
Caius and he met : and who should it be but Caius's old
enemy the steward , whom he had formerly tripped up by
the heels for his saucy behavior to Lear. Caius not liking
the fellow's look, and suspecting what he came for, began
to revile him, and challenged him to fight, which the fellow
refusing, Caius, in a fit of honest passion, beat him soundly,
as such a mischief-maker and carrier of wicked messages
deserved ; which coming to the ears of Regan and her
husband, they ordered Caius to be put in the stocks ,
though he was a messenger from the king her father, and
in that character demanded the highest respect : so that
the first thing the king saw when he entered the castle,
was his faithful servant Caius sitting in that disgraceful
situation.
This was but a bad omen of the reception which he was
to expect ; but a worse followed, when, upon inquiry for
his daughter and her husband, he was told they were weary
 KING LEAR . 135

with travelling all night, and could not see him ; and when
lastly, upon his insisting in a positive and angry manner
to see them, they came to greet him, whom should he see
in their company but the hated Goneril, who had come to
tell her own story, and set her sister against the king her
father !
This sight much moved the old man , and still more to
see Regan take her by the hand ; and he asked Goneril if
she was not ashamed to look upon his old white beard.
And Regan advised him to go home again with Goneril ,
and live with her peaceably, dismissing half of his attend-
ants, and to ask her forgiveness ; for he was old and
wanted discretion, and must be ruled and led by persons
that had more discretion than himself. And Lear showed
how preposterous that would sound, if he were to go down
on his knees, and beg of his own daughter for food and
raiment, and he argued against such an unnatural depend-
ence, declaring his resolution never to return with her, but
to stay where he was with Regan, he and his hundred
knights ; for he said that she had not forgot the half of
the kingdom which he had endowed her with, and that her
eyes were not fierce like Goneril's but mild and kind .
And he said that rather than return to Goneril, with half
his train cut off, he would go over to France, and beg a
wretched pension of the king there, who had married his
youngest daughter without a portion.
But he was mistaken in expecting kinder treatment of
Regan than he had experienced from her sister Goneril .
As if willing to outdo her sister in unfilial behavior, she
declared that she thought fifty knights too many to wait
upon him that five and twenty were enough. Then Lear,
nigh heart-broken, turned to Goneril, and said that he
would go back with her, for her fifty doubled five and
136 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

twenty, and so her love was twice as much as Regan's.

But Goneril excused herself and said, what need of so
many as five and twenty ? or even ten ? or five ? when he
might be waited upon by her servants, or her sister's ser-
vants ? So these two wicked daughters, as if they strove
to exceed each other in cruelty to their old father, who
had been so good to them, by little and little would have
abated him of all his train , all respect (little enough for
him that once commanded a kingdom ) , which was left him
to show that he had once been a king ! Not that a splendid
train is essential to happiness, but from a king to a beggar
is a hard change, from commanding millions to be without
one attendant ; and it was the ingratitude in his daughters '
denying it, more than what he would suffer by the want
of it, which pierced this poor king to the heart ; insomuch,
that with this double ill-usage, and vexation for having so
foolishly given away a kingdom, his wits began to be
unsettled, and while he said he knew not what, he vowed
revenge against those unnatural hags, and to make
examples of them that should be a terror to the earth !
While he was thus idly threatening what his weak arm
could never execute, night came on, and a loud storm of
thunder and lightning with rain ; and his daughters still
persisting in their resolution not to admit his followers, he
called for his horses, and chose rather to encounter the
utmost fury of the storm abroad, than stay under the same
roof with these ungrateful daughters : and they, saying
that the injuries which wilful men procure to themselves
are their just punishment, suffered him to go in that con-
dition, and shut their doors upon him .
The winds were high, and the rain and storm increased,
when the old man sallied forth to combat with the ele-
ments, less sharp than his daughters' unkindness . For
 KING LEAR . 137

many miles about there was scarce a bush ; and there

upon a heath, exposed to the fury of the storm in a dark
night, did king Lear wander out, and defy the winds and
the thunder ; and he bid the winds to blow the earth into
the sea, or swell the waves of the sea till they drowned
the earth, that no token might remain of any such un-
grateful animal as man. The old king was now left with
no other companion than the poor fool, who still abided
with him , with his merry conceits striving to outjest
misfortune, saying it was but a naughty night to swim in,
and truly the king had better go in and ask his daughter's
blessing : -
But he that has a little tiny wit,
With heigh ho, the wind and the rain !
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
Though the rain it raineth every day :

and swearing it was a brave night to cool a lady's pride .

Thus poorly accompanied , this once great monarch was
found by his ever-faithful servant the good earl of Kent,
now transformed to Caius , who ever followed close at his
side, though the king did not know him to be the earl ;
and he said, " Alas ! sir, are you here ? creatures that love
night, love not such nights as these . This dreadful storm
has driven the beasts to their hiding places. Man's
nature cannot endure the affliction or the fear." And
Lear rebuked him and said, these lesser evils were not
felt, where a greater malady was fixed. When the mind
is at ease, the body has leisure to be delicate , but the
tempest in his mind did take all feeling else from his
senses, but of that which beat at his heart. And he spoke
of filial ingratitude, and said it was all one as if the mouth
should tear the hand for lifting food to it ; for parents
were hands and food and every thing to children .
138 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

But the good Caius still persisting in his entreaties that

the king would not stay out in the open air, at last per-
suaded him to enter a little wretched hovel which stood
upon the heath, where the fool first entering, suddenly ran
back terrified, saying that he had seen a spirit. But upon
examination this spirit proved to be nothing more than a
poor Bedlam beggar, who had crept into this deserted
hovel for shelter, and with his talk about devils frighted
the fool, one of those poor lunatics who are either mad,
or feign to be so, the better to extort charity from the
compassionate country people, who go about the country,
calling themselves poor Tom and poor Turlygood, saying,
"Who gives any thing to poor Tom ? " sticking pins and
nails and sprigs of rosemary into their arms to make them
bleed ; and with such horrible actions, partly by prayers,
and partly with lunatic curses, they move or terrify the
ignorant country-folks into giving them alms. This poor
fellow was such a one ; and the king seeing him in so
wretched a plight, with nothing but a blanket about his
loins to cover his nakedness, could not be persuaded but
that the fellow was some father who had given all away
to his daughters, and brought himself to that pass : for
nothing he thought could bring a man to such wretched-
ness but the having unkind daughters .
And from this and many such wild speeches which he
uttered, the good Caius plainly perceived that he was not
in his perfect mind , but that his daughters' ill usage had
really made him go mad. And now the loyalty of this
worthy earl of Kent showed itself in more essential ser-
vices than he had hitherto found opportunity to perform .
For with the assistance of some of the king's attendants
who remained loyal, he had the person of his royal master
removed at day-break to the castle of Dover, where his
 KING LEAR . 139

own friends and influence, as earl of Kent , chiefly lay ;

and himself embarking for France, hastened to the court
of Cordelia, and did there in such moving terms represent
the pitiful condition of her royal father, and set out in
such lively colors the inhumanity of her sisters, that this
good and loving child with many tears besought the king
her husband that he would give her leave to embark for
England, with a sufficient power to subdue these cruel
daughters and their husbands, and restore the old king her
father to his throne ; which being granted, she set forth,
and with a royal army landed at Dover.
Lear having by some chance escaped from the guardians
which the good earl of Kent had put over him to take
care of him in his lunacy, was found by some of Cordelia's
train , wandering about the fields near Dover, in a pitiable
condition, stark mad, and singing aloud to himself, with
a crown upon his head which he had made of straw, and
nettles, and other wild weeds that he had picked up in
the corn-fields . By the advice of the physicians, Cordelia,
though earnestly desirous of seeing her father, was pre-
vailed upon to put off the meeting, till by sleep and the
operation of herbs which they gave him, he should be
restored to greater composure. By the aid of these skilful
physicians, to whom Cordelia promised all her gold and
jewels for the recovery of the old king, Lear was soon in
a condition to see his daughter.
A tender sight it was to see the meeting between this
father and daughter ; to see the struggles between the joy
of this poor old king at beholding again his once darling
child, and the shame at receiving such filial kindness from
her whom he had cast off for so small a fault in his dis-
pleasure ; both these passions struggling with the remains
of his malady, which in his half-crazed brain sometimes
140 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

made him that he scarce remembered where he was, or

who it was that so kindly kissed him and spoke to him :
and then he would beg the standers-by not to laugh at
him, if he were mistaken in thinking this lady to be his
daughter Cordelia ! And then to see him fall on his knees
to beg pardon of his child ; and she, good lady, kneeling
all the while to ask a blessing of him, and telling him that
it did not become him to kneel, but it was her duty, for
she was his child , his true and very child Cordelia ! and
she kissed him (as she said ) to kiss away all her sisters'
unkindness, and said that they might be ashamed of them-
selves, to turn their old kind father with his white beard
out into the cold air, when her enemy's dog, though it had
bit her (as she prettily expressed it ) , should have staid
by her fire such a night as that, and warmed himself. And
she told her father how she had come from France with
purpose to bring him assistance ; and he said that she
must forget and forgive, for he was old and foolish, and
did not know what he did ; but that to be sure she had
great cause not to love him, but her sisters had none .
And Cordelia said that she had no cause, no more than
they had.
So we will leave this old king in the protection of this
dutiful and loving child, where, by the help of sleep and
medicine, she and her physicians at length succeeded in
winding up the untuned and jarring senses which the
cruelty of his other daughters had so violently shaken .
Let us return to say a word or two about those cruel
daughters .
These monsters of ingratitude, who had been so false to
their old father, could not be expected to prove more
faithful to their own husbands. They soon grew tired of
paying even the appearance of duty and affection , and in
 KING LEAR. 141

an open way showed they had fixed their loves upon

another. It happened that the object of their guilty
loves was the same. It was Edmund, a natural son of the
late earl of Gloucester, who by his treacheries had suc-
ceeded in disinheriting his brother Edgar, the lawful heir,
from his earldom, and by his wicked practices was now
earl himself ; a wicked man , and a fit object for the love
of such wicked creatures as Goneril and Regan . It falling
out about this time that the duke of Cornwall, Regan's
husband, died , Regan immediately declared her intention
of wedding this earl of Gloucester, which rousing the
jealousy of her sister, to whom as well as to Regan this
wicked earl had at sundry times professed love , Goneril
found means to make away with her sister by poison ; but
being detected in her practices, and imprisoned by her
husband, the duke of Albany, for this deed , and for her
guilty passion for the earl which had come to his ears, she,
in a fit of disappointed love and rage, shortly put an end
to her own life. Thus the justice of Heaven at last over-
took these wicked daughters.
While the eyes of all men were upon this event, admir-
ing the justice displayed in their deserved deaths, the
same eyes were suddenly taken off from this sight to
admire at the mysterious ways of the same power in the
melancholy fate of the young and virtuous daughter, the
lady Cordelia, whose good deeds did seem to deserve a
more fortunate conclusion : but it is an awful truth, that
innocence and piety are not always successful in this
world. The forces which Goneril and Regan had sent out
under the command of the bad earl of Gloucester were
victorious, and Cordelia, by the practices of this wicked
earl, who did not like that any should stand between him
and the throne, ended her life in prison . Thus, Heaven
142 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

took this innocent lady to itself in her young years, after

showing her to the world an illustrious example of filial
duty. Lear did not long survive this kind child .
Before he died, the good earl of Kent, who had still
attended his old master's steps from the first of his daugh-
ters' ill usage to this sad period of his decay, tried to
make him understand that it was he who had followed
him under the name of Caius ; but Lear's care-crazed brain
at that time could not comprehend how that could be, or
how Kent and Caius could be the same person : so Kent
thought it needless to trouble him with explanations at
such a time ; and Lear soon after expiring, this faithful
servant to the king, between age and grief for his old
master's vexations, soon followed him to the grave.
How the judgment of Heaven overtook the bad earl of
Gloucester, whose treasons were discovered, and himself
slain in single combat with his brother, the lawful earl ;
and how Goneril's husband, the duke of Albany, who was
innocent of the death of Cordelia, and had never encour-
aged his lady in her wicked proceedings against her
father, ascended the throne of Britain after the death of
Lear, is needless here to narrate ; Lear and his Three
Daughters being dead, whose adventures alone concern
our story.
 MACBETH . 143

MACBETH .

WHEN Duncan the Meek reigned king of Scotland,

there lived a great thane, or lord , called Macbeth .
This Macbeth was a near kinsman to the king, and in
great esteem at court for his valor and conduct in the
wars ; an example of which he had lately given , in defeat-
ing a rebel army assisted by the troops of Norway in terri-
ble numbers.
The two Scottish generals, Macbeth and Banquo, return-
ing victorious from this great battle , their way lay over
a blasted heath, where they were stopped by the strange
appearance of three figures like women, except that they
had beards, and their withered skins and wild attire made.
them look not like any earthly creatures. Macbeth first
addressed them , when they, seemingly offended, laid each
one her choppy finger upon her skinny lips, in token of
silence ; and the first of them saluted Macbeth with the
title of thane of Glamis. The general was not a little
startled to find himself known by such creatures ; but
how much more, when the second of them followed up
that salute by giving him the title of thane of Cawdor, to
which honor he had no pretensions ; and again the third
bid him " All hail ! king that shalt be hereafter ! " Such
a prophetic greeting might well amaze him , who knew
that while the king's sons lived he could not hope to
succeed to the throne. Then turning to Banquo, they
pronounced him, in a sort of riddling terms, to be lesser
144 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

than Macbeth and greater ! not so happy, but much happier!

and prophesied that though he should never reign, yet his
sons after him should be kings in Scotland . They then
turned into air, and vanished : by which the generals
knew them to be the weird sisters, or witches .
While they stood pondering on the strangeness of this
adventure, there arrived certain messengers from the king,
who were empowered by him to confer upon Macbeth the
dignity of thane of Cawdor : an event so miraculously cor-
responding with the prediction of the witches astonished
Macbeth, and he stood wrapped in amazement, unable to
make reply to the messengers ; and in that point of time
swelling hopes arose in his mind that the prediction of the
third witch might in like manner have its accomplish-
ment, and that he should one day reign king in Scotland .
Turning to Banquo, he said, " Do you not hope that
your children shall be kings, when what the witches
promised to me has so wonderfully come to pass ? "
" That hope," answered the general, " might enkindle
you to aim at the throne ; but oftentimes these ministers of
darkness tell us truths in little things, to betray us into
deeds of greatest consequence."
But the wicked suggestions of the witches had sunk too
deep into the mind of Macbeth to allow him to attend to
the warnings of the good Banquo. From that time he
bent all his thoughts how to compass the throne of Scot-
land.
Macbeth had a wife, to whom he communicated the
strange prediction of the weird sisters, and its partial
accomplishment. She was a bad, ambitious woman , and
so as her husband and herself could arrive at greatness ,
she cared not much by what means . She spurred on the
reluctant purpose of Macbeth, who felt compunction at
 MACBETH . 145

the thoughts of blood , and did not cease to represent the

murder of the king as a step absolutely necessary to the
fulfilment of the flattering prophecy.
It happened at this time that the king , who out of his
royal condescension would oftentimes visit his principal
nobility upon gracious terms, came to Macbeth's house,
attended by his two sons, Malcolm and Donalbain, and a
numerous train of thanes and attendants, the more to honor
Macbeth for the triumphal success of his wars .
The castle of Macbeth was pleasantly situated , and the
air about it was sweet and wholesome, which appeared by
the nests which the martlet, or swallow, had built under
all the jutting friezes and buttresses of the building , wher-
ever it found a place of advantage ; for where those birds
most breed and haunt, the air is observed to be delicate.
The king entered well-pleased with the place, and not less
so with the attentions and respect of his honored hostess,
lady Macbeth, who had the art of covering treacherous
purposes with smiles ; and could look like the innocent
flower, while she was indeed the serpent under it.
The king being tired with his journey, went early to bed,
and in his state-room two grooms of his chamber (as was the
custom) slept beside him. He had been unusually pleased
with his reception, and had made presents before he retired
to his principal officers ; and among the rest, had sent a
rich diamond to lady Macbeth, greeting her by the name
of his most kind hostess .
Now was the middle of the night, when over half the
world nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse men's
minds asleep, and none but the wolf and the murderer is
abroad. This was the time when lady Macbeth waked to
plot the murder of the king. She would not have under-
taken a deed so abhorrent to her sex, but that she feared
146 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

her husband's nature, that it was too full of the milk of

human kindness, to do a contrived murder. She knew him
to be ambitious, but withal to be scrupulous, and not yet
prepared for that height of crime which commonly in the
end accompanies inordinate ambition. She had won him
to consent to the murder, but she doubted his resolution ;
and she feared that the natural tenderness of his disposition
(more humane than her own) would come between, and
defeat the purpose . So with her own hands armed with a
dagger, she approached the king's bed ; having taken care
to ply the grooms of his chamber so with wine, that they
slept intoxicated, and careless of their charge . There lay
Duncan in a sound sleep after the fatigues of his journey,
and as she viewed him earnestly, there was something in
his face, as he slept, which resembled her own father ; and
she had not the courage to proceed .
She returned to confer with her husband . His resolu-
tion had begun to stagger. He considered that there were
strong reasons against the deed . In the first place, he was
not only a subject, but a near kinsman to the king ; and
he had been his host and entertainer that day, whose duty,
by the laws of hospitality, it was to shut the door against
his murderers , not bear the knife himself. Then he con-
sidered how just and merciful a king this Duncan had
been , how clear of offence to his subjects, how loving to
his nobility, and in particular to him ; that such kings are
the peculiar care of Heaven, and their subjects doubly
bound to revenge their deaths. Besides, by the favors of
the king, Macbeth stood high in the opinion of all sorts of
men, and how would those honors be stained by the repu-
tation of so foul a murder !
In these conflicts of the mind lady Macbeth found her
husband inclining to the better part, and resolving to pro-
 MACBETH . 147

ceed no further. But she being a woman not easily shaken

from her evil purpose, began to pour in at his ears words
which infused a portion of her own spirit into his mind,
assigning reason upon reason why he should not shrink
from what he had undertaken ; how easy the deed was ;
how soon it would be over ; and how the action of one
short night would give to all their nights and days to come
sovereign sway and royalty ! Then she threw contempt
on his change of purpose, and accused him of fickleness
and cowardice, and declared that she well knew how ten-
der it was to love the babe that she had so fondly nursed ;
but she would, while it was smiling in her face, have
plucked it from her breast, and dashed its brains out, if
she had so sworn to do it, as he had sworn to perform that
murder. Then she added, how practicable it was to lay
the guilt of the deed upon the drunken sleepy grooms.
And with the valor of her tongue she so chastised his
sluggish resolutions, that he once more summoned up
courage to the bloody business.
So, taking the dagger in his hand , he softly stole in the
dark to the room where Duncan lay ; and as he went, he
thought he saw another dagger in the air, with the handle
towards him , and on the blade and at the point of it drops
of blood ; but when he tried to grasp at it, it was nothing
but air, a mere phantasm proceeding from his own hot
and oppressed brain and the business he had in hand.
Getting rid of this fear, he entered the king's room,
whom he despatched with one stroke of his dagger. Just
as he had done the murder, one of the grooms, who slept
in the chamber, laughed in his sleep, and the other cried ,
" Murder," which woke them both ; but they said a short
prayer ; one of them said, " God bless us ! " and the other
answered " Amen " ; and addressed themselves to sleep
148 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

again . Macbeth, who stood listening to them, tried to say,

"Amen," when the fellow said, " God bless us ! " but,
though he had most need of a blessing, the word stuck in
his throat, and he could not pronounce it.
Again he thought he heard a voice which cried , " Sleep
no more : Macbeth doth murder sleep , the innocent sleep,
that nourishes life." Still it cried, " Sleep no more ," to
all the house. " Glamis hath murdered sleep, and there-
fore Cawdor shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no
more."
With such horrible imaginations Macbeth returned to
his listening wife, who began to think he had failed of his
purpose, and that the deed was somehow frustrated . He
came in so distracted a state, that she reproached him
with his want of firmness, and sent him to wash his hands
of the blood which stained them, while she took his
dagger, with purpose to stain the cheeks of the grooms
with blood, to make it seem their guilt.
Morning came, and with it the discovery of the murder,
which could not be concealed ; and though Macbeth and
his lady made great show of grief, and the proofs against
the grooms (the dagger being produced against them and
their faces smeared with blood) were sufficiently strong,
yet the entire suspicion fell upon Macbeth, whose induce-
ments to such a deed were so much more forcible than
such poor silly grooms could be supposed to have ; and
Duncan's two sons fled. Malcolm, the eldest, sought for
refuge in the English court ; and the youngest, Donal-
bain, made his escape to Ireland .
The king's sons, who should have succeeded him, hav-
ing thus vacated the throne, Macbeth as next heir was
crowned king, and thus the prediction of the weird sisters
was literally accomplished .
 MACBETH. 149

Though placed so high, Macbeth and his queen could

not forget the prophecy of the weird sisters, that, though
Macbeth should be king, yet not his children , but the
children of Banquo, should be kings after him . The
thought of this, and that they had defiled their hands
with blood, and done so great crimes, only to place the
posterity of Banquo upon the throne, so rankled within
them , that they determined to put to death both Banquo
and his son , to make void the predictions of the weird
sisters , which in their own case had been so remarkably
brought to pass.
For this purpose they made a great supper, to which
they invited all the chief thanes ; and, among the rest,
with marks of particular respect, Banquo and his son
Fleance were invited . The way by which Banquo was
to pass to the palace at night was beset by murderers
appointed by Macbeth, who stabbed Banquo ; but in the
scuffle Fleance escaped . From that Fleance descended
a race of monarchs who afterwards filled the Scottish
throne, ending with James the Sixth of Scotland and the
First of England, under whom the two crowns of England
and Scotland were united.
At supper, the queen, whose manners were in the
highest degree affable and royal, played the hostess with
a gracefulness and attention which conciliated every one
present, and Macbeth discoursed freely with his thanes
and nobles, saying, that all that was honorable in the
country was under his roof, if he had but his good friend
Banquo present, whom yet he hoped he should rather
have to chide for neglect, than to lament for any mis-
chance. Just at these words the ghost of Banquo, whom
he had caused to be murdered, entered the room and
placed himself on the chair which Macbeth was about to
150 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

occupy. Though Macbeth was a bold man, and one that

could have faced the devil without trembling, at this hor-
rible sight his cheeks turned white with fear, and he stood
quite unmanned with his eyes fixed upon the ghost . His
queen and all the nobles, who saw nothing, but perceived
him gazing (as they thought) upon an empty chair, took
it for a fit of distraction ; and she reproached him , whis-
pering that it was but the same fancy which made him see
the dagger in the air, when he was about to kill Duncan.
But Macbeth continued to see the ghost, and gave no
heed to all they could say, while he addressed it with
distracted words, yet so significant, that his queen, fearing
the dreadful secret would be disclosed, in great haste
dismissed the guests, excusing the infirmity of Macbeth
as a disorder he was often troubled with.
To such dreadful fancies Macbeth was subject . His
queen and he had their sleeps afflicted with terrible
dreams, and the blood of Banquo troubled them not more
than the escape of Fleance, whom now they looked upon
as father to a line of kings who should keep their pos-
terity out of the throne . With these miserable thoughts
they found no peace, and Macbeth determined once more
to seek out the weird sisters, and know from them the
worst.
He sought them in a cave upon the heath, where they,
who knew by foresight of his coming, were engaged in
preparing their dreadful charms by which they conjured
up infernal spirits to reveal to them futurity. Their
horrid ingredients were toads, bats, and serpents , the eye
of a newt, and the tongue of a dog, the leg of a lizard, and
the wing of the night-owl, the scale of a dragon, the tooth
of a wolf, the maw of the ravenous salt-sea shark, the
mummy of a witch, the root of the poisonous hemlock
 MACBETH . 151

(this to have effect must be digged in the dark) , the gall

of a goat, and the liver of a Jew, with slips of the yew
tree that roots itself in graves, and the finger of a dead
child : all these were set on to boil in a great kettle, or
caldron, which, as fast as it grew too hot, was cooled with
a baboon's blood : to these they poured in the blood of a
sow that had eaten her young, and they threw into the
flame the grease that had sweaten from a murderer's
gibbet . By these charms they bound the infernal spirits
to answer their questions.
It was demanded of Macbeth, whether he would have
his doubts resolved by them, or by their masters, the
spirits. He, nothing daunted by the dreadful ceremonies
which he saw, boldly answered, " Where are they ? let me
see them ." And they called the spirits, which were three.
And the first arose in the likeness of an armed head , and
he called Macbeth by name, and bid him beware of the
thane of Fife ; for which caution Macbeth thanked him ;
for Macbeth had entertained a jealousy of Macduff, the
thane of Fife.
And the second spirit arose in the likeness of a bloody
child , and he called Macbeth by name, and bid him have
no fear, but laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of
woman born should have power to hurt him ; and he
advised him to be bloody, bold , and resolute. " Then
live, Macduff ! " cried the king ; " what need I fear of
thee ? but yet I will make assurance doubly sure. Thou
shalt not live ; that I may tell pale-hearted Fear it lies,
and sleep in spite of thunder. ”
That spirit being dismissed, a third arose in the form of
a child crowned, with a tree in his hand. He called
Macbeth by name, and comforted him against conspira-
cies, saying that he should never be vanquished , until
152 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

the wood of Birnam to Dunsinane Hill should come

against him. " Sweet bodements ! good ! " cried Macbeth ;
" who can unfix the forest, and move it from its earth-
bound roots ? I see I shall live the usual period of man's
life, and not be cut off by a violent death. But my heart
throbs to know one thing. Tell me, if your art can tell
so much, if Banquo's issue shall ever reign in this king-
dom ? " Here the caldron sank into the ground, and a
noise of music was heard, and eight shadows, like kings ,
passed by Macbeth, and Banquo last, who bore a glass
which showed the figures of many more, and Banquo all
bloody smiled upon Macbeth, and pointed to them ; by
which Macbeth knew that these were the posterity of
Banquo who should reign after him in Scotland ; and the
witches , with a sound of soft music, and with dancing,
making a show of duty and welcome to Macbeth, van-
ished. And from this time the thoughts of Macbeth were
all bloody and dreadful .
The first thing he heard when he got out of the witches '
cave, was that Macduff, thane of Fife, had fled to Eng-
land to join the army which was forming against him
under Malcolm , the eldest son of the late king, with
intent to displace Macbeth, and set Malcolm , the right
heir, upon the throne . Macbeth, stung with rage, set
upon the castle of Macduff, and put his wife and children ,
whom the thane had left behind, to the sword, and
extended the slaughter to all who claimed the least
relationship to Macduff.
These and such-like deeds alienated the minds of all his
chief nobility from him. Such as could, fled to join with
Malcolm and Macduff, who were now approaching with a
powerful army, which they had raised in England ; and
the rest secretly wished success to their arms , though for
 MACBETH . 153

fear of Macbeth they could take no active part. His

recruits went on slowly.Everybody hated the tyrant ;
nobody loved or honored him ; but all suspected him, and
he began to envy the condition of Duncan, whom he had
murdered, who slept soundly in his grave, against whom
treason had done its worst : steel nor poison , domestic
malice nor foreign levies, could hurt him any longer.
While these things were acting, the queen, who had
been the sole partner in his wickedness, in whose bosom
he could sometimes seek a momentary repose from those
terrible dreams which afflicted them both nightly, died, it
is supposed, by her own hands, unable to bear the remorse
of guilt, and public hate ; by which event he was left
alone, without a soul to love or care for him, or a friend
to whom he could confide his wicked purposes.
He grew careless of life, and wished for death ; but the
near approach of Malcolm's army roused in him what
remained of his ancient courage, and he determined to die
(as he expressed it) , " with armor on his back . " Besides
this, the hollow promises of the witches had filled him
with a false confidence, and he remembered the sayings of
the spirits, that none of woman born was to hurt him, and
that he was never to be vanquished till Birnam wood
should come to Dunsinane, which he thought could never
be. So he shut himself up in his castle, whose impregna-
ble strength was such as defied a siege : here he sullenly
waited the approach of Malcolm. When, upon a day,
there came a messenger to him, pale and shaking with
fear, almost unable to report that which he had seen ; for
he averred, that as he stood upon his watch on the hill, he
looked towards Birnam, and to his thinking the wood
began to move ! " Liar and slave ! " cried Macbeth ; " if
thou speakest false, thou shalt hang alive upon the next
154 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

tree, till famine end thee. If thy tale be true, I care not
if thou dost as much by me : " for Macbeth now began to
faint in resolution, and to doubt the equivocal speeches of
the spirits. He was not to fear till Birnam wood should
come to Dunsinane ; and now a wood did move ! " How-
ever," said he, " if this which he avouches be true, let us
arm and out. There is no flying hence, nor staying here .
I begin to be weary of the sun, and wish my life at an
end." With these desperate speeches he sallied forth upon
the besiegers, who had now come up to the castle.
The strange appearance, which had given the messenger
an idea of a wood moving is easily solved . When the
besieging army marched through the wood of Birnam,
Malcolm , like a skilful general, instructed his soldiers to
hew down every one a bough and bear it before him, by
way of concealing the true numbers of his host. This
marching of the soldiers with boughs had at a distance the
appearance which had frightened the messenger. Thus
were the words of the spirit brought to pass, in a sense
different from that in which Macbeth had understood
them , and one great hold of his confidence was gone .
And now a severe skirmishing took place , in which
Macbeth, though feebly supported by those who called
themselves his friends, but in reality hated the tyrant and
inclined to the party of Malcolm and Macduff, yet fought
with the extreme of rage and valor, cutting to pieces all
who were opposed to him, till he came to where Macduff
was fighting . Seeing Macduff, and remembering the
caution of the spirit who had counselled him to avoid
Macduff above all men, he would have turned, but Mac-
duff, who had been seeking him through the whole fight,
opposed his turning, and a fierce contest ensued ; Macduff
giving him many foul reproaches for the murder of his
 MACBETH . 155

wife and children. Macbeth, whose soul was charged

enough with blood of that family already, would still have
declined the combat ; but Macduff still urged him to it,
calling him tyrant, murderer, and villain.
Then Macbeth remembered the words of the spirit, how
none of woman born should hurt him ; and smiling con-
fidently he said to Macduff, " Thou losest thy labor, Mac-
duff. As easily thou mayest impress the air with thy
sword, as make me vulnerable . I bear a charmed life,
which must not yield to one of woman born."
66
Despair thy charm ," said Macduff, " and let that lying
spirit whom thou hast served , tell thee , that Macduff was
never born of woman, never as the ordinary manner of
men is to be born, but that he came untimely into the
world."
"Accursed be the tongue which tells me so," said the
trembling Macbeth, who felt his last hold of confidence
give way ; " and let never man in future believe the lying.
equivocations of witches and juggling spirits , who deceive
us in words which have double senses, and while they keep
their promise literally, disappoint our hopes with a different
meaning. I will not fight with thee."
" Then live ! " said the scornful Macduff ; " we will have
a show of thee, as men show monsters, and a painted board,
on which shall be written, ' Here men may see the ty-
rant !""
"Never," said Macbeth, whose courage returned with
despair ; " I will not live to kiss the ground before young
Malcolm's feet, and to be baited with the curses of the
rabble. Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, and
thou opposed to me, who wast never born of woman, yet
will I try the last." With these frantic words he threw
himself upon Macduff, who, after a severe struggle, in the
156 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

end overcame him, and cutting off his head, made a

present of it to the young and lawful king, Malcolm ; who
took upon him the government which, by the machina-
tions of the usurper, he had so long been deprived of, and
ascended the throne of Duncan the Meek, amid the accla-
mations of the nobles and the people.
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 157

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL .

ERTRAM, count of Rousillon, had newly come to his

title and estate, by the death of his father. The
king of France loved the father of Bertram, and when he
heard of his death, he sent for his son to come immediately
to his royal court in Paris, intending, for the friendship he
bore the late count, to grace young Bertram , with his
especial favor and protection .
Bertram was living with his mother, the widowed
countess, when Lafeu, an old lord of the French court,
came to conduct him to the king . The king of France
was an absolute monarch, and the invitation to court was
in the form of a royal mandate, or positive command,
which no subject, of what high dignity soever, might
disobey ; therefore though the countess, in parting with
this dear son , seemed a second time to bury her husband,
whose loss she had so lately mourned, yet she dared not
to keep him a single day, but gave instant orders for his
departure. Lafeu, who came to fetch him, tried to com-
fort the countess for the loss of her late lord , and her son's
sudden absence ; and he said, in a courtier's flattering
manner, that the king was so kind a prince , she would
find in his majesty a husband, and that he would be a
father to her son ; meaning only, that the good king would
befriend the fortunes of Bertram . Lafeu told the countess
that the king had fallen into a sad malady, which was
pronounced by his physicians to be incurable. The lady
158 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

expressed great sorrow on hearing this account of the

king's ill health, and said she wished the father of Helena
(a young gentlewoman who was present in attendance
upon her) were living, for that she doubted not he could
have cured his majesty of his disease . And she told Lafeu
something of the history of Helena, saying she was the
only daughter of the famous physician Gerard de Narbon ,
and that he had recommended his daughter to her care
when he was dying, so that since his death she had taken
Helena under her protection ; then the countess praised
the virtuous disposition and excellent qualities of Helena ,
saying she inherited these virtues from her worthy father.
While she was speaking, Helena wept in sad and mournful
silence, which made the countess gently reprove her for
too much grieving for her father's death.
Bertram now bade his mother farewell . The countess
parted with this dear son with tears and many blessings,
and commended him to the care of Lafeu, saying, " Good,
my lord, advise him, for he is an unseasoned courtier."
Bertram's last words were spoken to Helena, but they
were words of mere civility, wishing her happiness ; and
he concluded his short farewell to her with saying, " Be
comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much
of her."
Helena had long loved Bertram, and when she wept in
sad and mournful silence, the tears she shed were not for
Gerard de Narbon . Helena loved her father, but in the
present feeling of a deeper love, the object of which she
was about to lose, she had forgotten the very form and
features of her dead father, her imagination presenting no
image to her mind but Bertram's .
Helena had long loved Bertram, yet she always remem-
bered that he was the count of Rousillon , descended from
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 159

the most ancient family in France . She of humble birth .

Her parents of no note at all. His ancestors all noble.
And therefore she looked up to the high-born Bertram as
to her master and to her dear lord, and dared not form any
wish but to live his servant, and so living to die his vassal.
So great the distance seemed to her between his height of
dignity and her lowly fortunes, that she would say, " It
were all one that I should love a bright particular star,
and think to wed it, Bertram is so far above me ."
Bertram's absence filled her eyes with tears and her
heart with sorrow ; for though she loved without hope,
yet it was a pretty comfort to her to see him every hour,
and Helena would sit and look upon his dark eye, his
arched brow, and the curls of his fine hair, till she seemed
to draw his portrait on the tablet of her heart, that heart
too capable of retaining the memory of every line in the
features of that loved face.
Gerard de Narbon, when he died, left her no other
portion than some prescriptions of rare and well-proved
virtue, which by deep study and long experience in medi-
cine he had collected as sovereign and almost infallible
remedies. Among the rest, there was one set down as an
approved medicine for the disease under which Lafeu said
the king at that time languished : and when Helena heard
of the king's complaint, she, who till now had been so
humble and so hopeless, formed an ambitious project in
her mind to go herself to Paris , and undertake the cure of
the king. But though Helena was the possessor of this
choice prescription , it was unlikely, as the king as well as
his physicians was of opinion that his disease was incur-
able, that they would give credit to a poor unlearned
virgin, if she should offer to perform a cure. The firm
hopes that Helena had of succeeding, if she might be
160 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

permitted to make the trial, seemed more than even her

father's skill warranted, though he was the most famous
physician of his time ; for she felt a strong faith that
this good medicine was sanctified by all the luckiest
stars in heaven to be the legacy that should advance
her fortune , even to the high dignity of being count
Rousillon's wife .
Bertram had not been long gone, when the countess
was informed by her steward, that he had overheard
Helena talking to herself, and that he understood from
some words she uttered, she was in love with Bertram ,
and thought of following him to Paris . The countess dis-
missed the steward with thanks, and desired him to tell
Helena she wished to speak with her. What she had just
heard of Helena brought the remembrance of days long
past into the mind of the countess ; those days probably
when her love for Bertram's father first began ; and she
said to herself, " Even so it was with me when I was
young . Love is a thorn that belongs to the rose of youth ;
for in the season of youth , if ever we are nature's children ,
these faults are ours, though then we think not they are
faults ." While the countess was thus meditating on the
loving errors of her own youth, Helena entered , and she
said to her, “ Helena, you know I am a mother to you ."
Helena replied, " You are my honorable mistress." " You

are my daughter, " said the countess again : " I say I am

your mother. Why do you start and look pale at my
words ? " With looks of alarm and confused thoughts,
fearing the countess suspected her love, Helena still
replied, Pardon me, madam, you are not my mother ;
the count Rousillon cannot be my brother, nor I your
daughter." " Yet, Helena," said the countess, " you might
be my daughter-in-law ; and I am afraid that is what you
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 161

mean to be , the words mother and daughter so disturb you .

Helena, do you love my son ? ” “ Good madam, pardon
me," said the affrighted Helena. Again the countess
repeated her question , " Do you love my son ? " " Do not
you love him , madam ? " said Helena. The countess
replied, " Give me not this evasive answer, Helena. Come ,
come, disclose the state of your affections, for your love
has to the full appeared ." Helena on her knees now
owned her love, and with shame and terror implored the
pardon of her noble mistress ; and with words expressive
of the sense she had of the inequality between their for-
tunes, she protested Bertram did not know she loved him ,
comparing her humble unaspiring love to a poor Indian ,
who adores the sun that looks upon his worshipper, but
knows of him no more. The countess asked Helena if she
had not lately an intent to go to Paris ? Helena owned
the design she had formed in her mind, when she heard
Lafeu speak of the king's illness . " This was your motive
for wishing to go to Paris," said the countess, " was it ?
Speak truly." Helena honestly answered , “ My lord your
son made me to think of this ; else Paris, and the medi-
cine, and the king, had from the conversation of my
thoughts been absent then ." The countess heard the
whole of this confession without saying a word either of
approval or of blame, but she strictly questioned Helena
as to the probability of the medicine being useful to the
king. She found that it was the most prized by Gerard
de Narbon of all he possessed, and that he had given it to
his daughter on his death-bed ; and remembering the
solemn promise she had made at that awful hour in regard
to this young maid, whose destiny, and the life of the king
himself, seemed to depend on the execution of a project
(which though conceived by the fond suggestions of a lov-
162 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

ing maiden's thoughts, the countess knew not but it might

be the unseen workings of Providence to bring to pass the
recovery of the king, and to lay the foundation of the
future fortunes of Gerard de Narbon's daughter ) , free
leave she gave to Helena to pursue her own way , and gen-
erously furnished her with ample means and suitable
attendants ; and Helena set out for Paris with the bless-
ings of the countess , and her kindest wishes for her suc-
cess.
Helena arrived at Paris, and by the assistance of her
friend the old lord Lafeu, she obtained an audience of the
king. She had still many difficulties to encounter, for the
king was not easily prevailed on to try the medicine.
offered him by this fair young doctor. But she told him
she was Gerard de Narbon's daughter (with whose fame
the king was well acquainted ) , and she offered the
precious medicine as the darling treasure which contained
the essence of all her father's long experience and skill ,
and she boldly engaged to forfeit her life, if it failed to
restore his majesty to perfect health in the space of two
days. The king at length consented to try it, and in two
days' time Helena was to lose her life if the king did not
recover ; but if she succeeded , he promised to give her the
choice of any man throughout all France ( the princes only
excepted) whom she could like for a husband ; the choice
of a husband being the fee Helena demanded if she cured
the king of his disease.
Helena did not deceive herself in the hope she conceived
of the efficacy of her father's medicine. Before two days.
were at an end, the king was restored to perfect health,
and he assembled all the young noblemen of his court
together, in order to confer the promised reward of a hus-
band upon his fair physician ; and he desired Helena to
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 163

look round on this youthful parcel of noble bachelors, and

choose her husband. Helena was not slow to make her
choice, for among these young lords she saw the count
Rousillon, and turning to Bertram, she said, “ This is the
man. I dare not say, my lord, I take you, but I give me
and my service ever whilst I live into your guiding
power." 66
Why, then," said the king, " young Bertram,
take her ; she is your wife." Bertram did not hesitate to
declare his dislike to this present of the king's of the
self-offered Helena , who, he said, was a poor physician's
daughter, bred at his father's charge, and now living a
dependant on his mother's bounty. Helena heard him
speak these words of rejection and of scorn , and she said
to the king, " That you are well, my lord, I am glad . Let
99
the rest go." But the king would not suffer his royal
command to be so slighted ; for the power of bestowing
their nobles in marriage was one of the many privileges of
the kings of France ; and that same day Bertram was mar-
ried to Helena, a forced and uneasy marriage to Bertram ,
and of no promising hope to the poor lady, who, though
she gained the noble husband she had hazarded her life to
obtain, seemed to have won but a splendid blank, her hus-
band's love not being a gift in the power of the king of
France to bestow.
Helena was no sooner married , than she was desired by
Bertram to apply to the king for him for leave of absence
from court ; and when she brought him the king's permis-
sion for his departure, Bertram told her that he was not
prepared for this sudden marriage, it had much unsettled
him , and therefore she must not wonder at the course he
should pursue . If Helena wondered not, she grieved
when she found it was his intention to leave her. He
ordered her to go home to his mother. When Helena
164 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

heard this unkind command, she replied, " Sir, I can noth-
ing say to this , but that I am your most obedient servant,
and shall ever with true observance seek to eke out that
desert, wherein my homely stars have failed to equal my
great fortunes." But this humble speech of Helena's did
not at all move the haughty Bertram to pity his gentle
wife, and he parted from her without even the common
civility of a kind farewell.
Back to the countess then Helena returned . She had
accomplished the purport of her journey, she had pre-
served the life of the king, and she had wedded her
heart's dear lord, the count Rousillon ; but she returned
back a dejected lady to her noble mother-in-law , and as
soon as she entered the house she received a letter from
Bertram which almost broke her heart.
The good countess received her with a cordial welcome ,
as if she had been her son's own choice, and a lady of a
high degree, and she spoke kind words to comfort her for
the unkind neglect of Bertram in sending his wife home.
on her bridal day alone . But this gracious reception
failed to cheer the sad mind of Helena, and she said,
" Madam, my lord is gone, forever gone." She then read
these words out of Bertram's letter : When you can get the
ring from my finger, which never shall come off, then call
me husband, but in such a Then I write a Never. " This is
a dreadful sentence ! " said Helena . The countess begged
her to have patience, and said , now Bertram was gone , she
should be her child, and that she deserved a lord that
twenty such rude boys as Bertram might tend upon , and
hourly call her mistress . But in vain by respectful con-
descension and kind flattery this matchless mother tried
to soothe the sorrows of her daughter-in-law.
Helena still kept her eyes fixed upon the letter, and
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 165

cried out in an agony of grief, Till I have no wife, I have

nothing in France. The countess asked her if she found
those words in the letter ? " Yes, madam," was all poor
Helena could answer.
The next morning Helena was missing. She left a
letter to be delivered to the countess after she was gone,
to acquaint her with the reason of her sudden absence : in
this letter she informed her, that she was so much grieved
at having driven Bertram from his native country and his
home, that to atone for her offence, she had undertaken a
pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Jaques le Grand, and con-
cluded with requesting the countess to inform her son that
the wife he so hated had left his house forever.
Bertram, when he left Paris, went to Florence, and
there became an officer in the duke of Florence's army,
and after a successful war, in which he distinguished him-
self by many brave actions , Bertram received letters from
his mother, containing the acceptable tidings that Helena
would no more disturb him ; and he was preparing to
return home, when Helena herself, clad in her pilgrim's
weeds, arrived at the city of Florence.
Florence was a city through which the pilgrims used to
pass on their way to St. Jaques le Grand ; and when
Helena arrived at this city, she heard that an hospitable
widow dwelt there, who used to receive into her house the
female pilgrims that were going to visit the shrine of that
saint, giving them lodging and kind entertainment. To
this good lady, therefore, Helena went, and the widow
gave her a courteous welcome, and invited her to see
whatever was curious in that famous city, and told her
that if she would like to see the duke's army, she would
take her where she might have a full view of it. " And
you will see a countryman of yours," said the widow ;
166 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

"his name is count Rousillon , who has done worthy

service in the duke's wars." Helena wanted no second
invitation, when she found Bertram was to make part
of the show. She accompanied her hostess ; and a sad
and mournful pleasure it was to her to look once more
upon her dear husband's face. " Is he not a handsome
man ? " said the widow. " I like him well," replied
Helena with great truth. All the way they walked , the
talkative widow's discourse was all of Bertram : she told
Helena the story of Bertram's marriage, and how he had
deserted the poor lady his wife, and entered into the
duke's army to avoid living with her. To this account
of her own misfortunes Heléna patiently listened, and
when it was ended, the history of Bertram was not yet
done, for then the widow began another tale, every word
of which sank deep into the mind of Helena ; for the
story she now told was of Bertram's love for her
daughter.
Though Bertram did not like the marriage forced on
him by the king, it seems he was not insensible to love,
for since he had been stationed with the army at Florence ,
he had fallen in love with Diana, a fair young gentle-
woman, the daughter of this widow who was Helena's
hostess ; and every night, with music of all sorts, and
songs composed in praise of Diana's beauty, he would
come under her window, and solicit her love ; and all his
suit to her was, that she would permit him to visit her by
stealth after the family were retired to rest ; but Diana
would by no means be persuaded to grant this improper
request, nor give any encouragement to his suit, knowing
him to be a married man ; for Diana had been brought up
under the counsels of a prudent . mother, who, though she
was now in reduced circumstances, was well born, and
descended from the noble family of the Capulets ,
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 167

All this the good lady related to Helena, highly prais-

ing the virtuous principles of her discreet daughter, which
she said were entirely owing to the excellent education
and good advice she had given her ; and she further said,
that Bertram had been particularly importunate with
Diana to admit him to the visit he so much desired that
night, because he was going to leave Florence early the
next morning .
Though it grieved Helena to hear of Bertram's love for
the widow's daughter, yet from this story the ardent mind
of Helena conceived a project (nothing discouraged at the
ill success of her former one) to recover her truant lord .
She disclosed to the widow that she was Helena , the
deserted wife of Bertram, and requested that her kind
hostess and her daughter would suffer this visit from Ber-
tram to take place, and to allow her to pass herself upon
Bertram for Diana ; telling them, her chief motive for
desiring to have this secret meeting with her husband,
was to get a ring from him, which he had said, if ever she
was in possession of he would acknowledge her as his
wife.
The widow and her daughter promised to assist her in
this affair, partly moved by pity for this unhappy forsaken
wife, and partly won over to her interest by the promises
of reward which Helena made them, giving them a purse
of money in earnest of her future favor. In the course of
that day Helena caused information to be sent to Bertram
that she was dead ; hoping that when he thought himself
free to make a second choice by the news of her death, he
would offer marriage to her in her feigned character of
Diana. And if she could obtain the ring and this promise
too, she doubted not she should make some future good
come of it.
168 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

In the evening, after it was dark, Bertram was admitted

into Diana's chamber, and Helena was there ready to
receive him. The flattering compliments and love dis-
course he addressed to Helena were precious sounds to
her, though she knew they were meant for Diana ; and
Bertram was so well pleased with her, that he made her a
solemn promise to be her husband, and to love her for-
ever ; which she hoped would be prophetic of a real affec-
tion, when he should know it was his own wife, the
despised Helena, whose conversation had so delighted
him.
Bertram never knew how sensible a lady Helena was ,
else perhaps he would not have been so regardless of her ;
and seeing her every day, he had entirely overlooked her
beauty ; a face we are accustomed to see constantly,
losing the effect which is caused by the first sight either
of beauty or of plainness ; and of her understanding it
was impossible he should judge, because she felt such
reverence, mixed with her love for him, that she was
always silent in his presence : but now that her future
fate, and the happy ending of all her love-projects , seemed
to depend on her leaving a favorable impression on the
mind of Bertram from this night's interview, she exerted
all her wit to please him ; and the simple graces of her
lively conversation and the endearing sweetness of her
manners so charmed Bertram, that he vowed she should
be his wife . Helena begged the ring from off his finger
as a token of his regard, and he gave it to her ; and in
return for this ring , which it was of such importance to
her to possess, she gave him another ring, which was one
the king had made her a present of. Before it was light
in the morning, she sent Bertram away ; and he immedi-
ately set out on his journey towards his mother's house.
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 169

Helena prevailed on the widow and Diana to accompany

her to Paris, their further assistance being necessary to
the full accomplishment of the plan she had formed .
When they arrived there, they found the king was gone
upon a visit to the countess of Rousillon , and Helena fol-
lowed the king with all the speed she could make.
The king was still in perfect health, and his gratitude
to her who had been the means of his recovery was so
lively in his mind , that the moment he saw the countess
of Rousillon, he began to talk of Helena, calling her a
precious jewel that was lost by the folly of her son ; but
seeing the subject distressed the countess, who sincerely
lamented the death of Helena, he said, " My good lady, I
have forgiven and forgotten all . " But the good-natured
old Lafeu, who was present, and could not bear that the
memory of his favorite Helena should be so lightly passed
over, said , “ This I must say, the young lord did great
offence to his majesty, his mother, and his lady ; but to
himself he did the greatest wrong of all, for he has lost a
wife whose beauty astonished all eyes, whose words took
all ears captive, whose deep perfection made all hearts
wish to serve her." The king said, " Praising what is lost
makes the remembrance dear. Well - call him hither " ;
meaning Bertram, who now presented himself before the
king : and, on his expressing deep sorrow for the injuries
he had done to Helena , the king, for his dead father's and
his admirable mother's sake, pardoned him and restored
him once more to his favor. But the gracious counte-
nance of the king was soon changed towards him, for he
perceived that Bertram wore the very ring upon his finger
which he had given to Helena : and he well remembered
that Helena had called all the saints in Heaven to witness
she would never part with that ring, unless she sent it to
170 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

the king himself upon some great disaster befalling her ;

and Bertram , on the king's questioning him how he came
by the ring told an improbable story of a lady throwing it
to him out of a window, and denied ever having seen
Helena since the day of their marriage. The king, know-
ing Bertram's dislike to his wife , feared he had destroyed
her : and he ordered his guards to seize Bertram, saying,
" I am wrapped in dismal thinking, for I fear the life of
Helena was foully snatched ." At this moment Diana and
her mother entered, and presented a petition to the king ,
wherein they begged his majesty to exert his royal power
to compel Bertram to marry Diana, he having made her a
solemn promise of marriage. Bertram, fearing the king's
anger, denied he had made any such promise ; and then
Diana produced the ring (which Helena had put into her
hands) to confirm the truth of her words ; and she said
that she had given Bertram the ring he then wore in
exchange for that, at the time he vowed to marry her. On
hearing this, the king ordered the guards to seize her also ;
and her account of the ring differing from Bertram's, the
king's suspicions were confirmed : and he said, if they did
.
not confess how they came by this ring of Helena's, they
should be both put to death. Diana requested her mother
might be permitted to fetch the jeweller of whom she
bought the ring, which being granted, the widow went
out, and presently returned leading in Helena herself.
The good countess, who in silent grief had beheld her
son's danger, and had even dreaded that the suspicion of
his having destroyed his wife might possibly be true,
finding her dear Helena, whom she loved with even a
maternal affection, was still living, felt a delight she was
hardly able to support ; and the king, scarce believing for
joy that it was Helena, said, " Is this indeed the wife of
 ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 171

Bertram that I see ? " Helena, feeling herself yet an

unacknowledged wife , replied , " No, my good lord , it is
but the shadow of a wife you see, the name and not the
thing." Bertram cried out, " Both, both ! O pardon ! ”
" O my lord," said Helena, " when I personated this
fair maid , I found you wondrous kind ; and look, here is
your letter ! " reading to him in a joyful tone those words.
which she had once repeated so sorrowfully, When from
my finger you can get this ring. "This is done ; it was to
me you gave the ring. Will you be mine, now you are
doubly won ?" Bertram replied " If you can make it
plain that you were the lady I talked with that night, I
will love you dearly ever, ever dearly." This was no
difficult task, for the widow and Diana came with Helena
to prove this fact ; and the king was so well pleased with
Diana, for the friendly assistance she had rendered the
dear lady he so truly valued for the service she had done
him, that he promised her also a noble husband : Helena's
history giving him a hint, that it was a suitable reward for
kings to bestow upon fair ladies when they perform
notable services .
Thus Helena at last found that her father's legacy was
indeed sanctified by the luckiest stars in heaven ; for she
was now the beloved wife of her dear Bertram, the
daughter-in-law of her noble mistress, and herself the
countess of Rousillon .
172 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.

KATHARINE the Shrew was the eldest daughter

She was of
a
Baptista, a rich gentleman of Padua .
lady of such an ungovernable spirit and fiery temper, such
a loud-tongued scold , that she was known in Padua by no
other name than Katharine the Shrew. It seemed very
unlikely, indeed impossible, that any gentleman would
ever be found who would venture to marry this lady, and
therefore Baptista was much blamed for deferring his con-
sent to many excellent offers that were made to her gentle
sister Bianca, putting off all Bianca's suitors with this
excuse, that when the eldest sister was fairly off his hands,
they should have free leave to address young Bianca.
It happened, however, that a gentleman , named Petru-
chio, came to Padua, purposely to look out for a wife,
who, nothing discouraged by these reports of Katharine's
temper, and hearing she was rich and handsome , resolved
upon marrying this famous termagant, and taming her
into a meek and manageable wife. And truly none was
so fit to set about this herculean labor as Petruchio, whose
spirit was as high as Katharine's, and he was a witty and
most happy-tempered humorist, and withal so wise, and of
such a true judgment, that he well knew how to feign a
passionate and furious deportment, when his spirits were
so calm that himself could have laughed merrily at his
own angry feigning, for his natural temper was careless
and easy ; the boisterous airs he assumed when he became
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 173

the husband of Katharine being but in sport, or more

properly speaking, affected by his excellent discernment,
as the only means to overcome, in her own way, the pas-
sionate ways of the furious Katharine .
A courting then Petruchio went to Katharine the
Shrew ; and first of all he applied to Baptista, her father,
for leave to woo his gentle daughter Katharine , as Petru-
chio called her, saying archly, that having heard of her
bashful modesty and mild behavior, he had come from
Verona to solicit her love. Her father, though he wished
her married, was forced to confess Katharine would ill
answer this character, it being soon apparent of what
manner of gentleness she was composed, for her music-
master rushed into the room to complain that the gentle
Katharine, his pupil, had broken his head with her lute ,
for presuming to find fault with her performance ; which,
when Petruchio heard, he said, " It is a brave wench ; I
love her more than ever, and long to have some chat with
her " ; and hurrying the old gentleman for a positive
answer, he said, " My business is in haste, signior Baptista,
I cannot.come every day to woo. You knew my father :
he is dead , and has left me heir to all his lands and goods.
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love, what dowry
you will give with her." Baptista thought his manner
was somewhat blunt for a lover ; but being glad to get
Katharine married, he answered that he would give her
twenty thousand crowns for her dowry, and half his estate
at his death : so this odd match was quickly agreed on,
and Baptista went to apprise his shrewish daughter of her
lover's addresses , and sent her in to Petruchio to listen to
his suit.
In the mean time Petruchio was settling with himself
the mode of courtship he should pursue ; and he said, “ I
174 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

will woo her with some spirit when she comes . If she
rails at me, why then I will tell her she sings as sweetly
as a nightingale ; and if she frowns, I will say she looks as
clear as roses newly washed with dew. If she will not
speak a word, I will praise the eloquence of her language ;
and if she bids me leave her, I will give her thanks as if
she bid me stay with her a week." Now the stately
Katharine entered, and Petruchio first addressed her with
"Good-morrow, Kate, for that is your name, I hear."
Katharine, not liking this plain salutation, said disdain-
fully, " They call me Katharine who do speak to me."
" You lie," replied the lover ; " for you are called plain
Kate, and bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the Shrew :
but, Kate, you are the prettiest Kate in Christendom, and
therefore, Kate, hearing your mildness praised in every
town, I am come to woo you for my wife."
A strange courtship they made of it. She in loud and
angry terms showing him how justly she had gained the
name of Shrew, while he still praised her sweet and cour-
teous words, till at length, hearing her father coming, he
said (intending to make as quick a wooing as possible) ,
"Sweet Katharine, let us set this idle chat aside, for your
father has consented that you shall be my wife, your dowry
is agreed on, and whether you will or no, I will marry
you."
And now Baptista entering, Petruchio told him his
daughter had received him kindly, and that she had prom-
ised to be married the next Sunday. This Katharine
denied, saying she would rather see him hanged on Sun-
day, and reproached her father for wishing to wed her to
such a mad-cap ruffian as Petruchio. Petruchio desired
her father not to regard her angry words, for they had
agreed she should seem reluctant before him, but that
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . 175

when they were alone he had found her very fond and
loving ; and he said to her, " Give me your hand , Kate ;
I will go to Venice to buy you fine apparel against our
wedding day. Provide the feast, father, and bid the wed-
ding guests. I will be sure to bring rings, fine array, and
rich clothes, that my Katharine may be fine ; and kiss me,
Kate, for we will be married on Sunday."
On the Sunday all the wedding guests were assembled,
but they waited long before Petruchio came, and Katha-
rine wept for vexation to think that Petruchio had only
been making a jest of her. At last, however, he appeared ;
but he brought none of the bridal finery he had promised
Katharine, nor was he dressed himself like a bridegroom ,
but in strange disordered attire, as if he meant to make a
sport of the serious business he came about ; and his ser-
vant and the very horses on which they rode were in like
manner in mean and fantastic fashion habited.
Petruchio could not be persuaded to change his dress ;
he said Katharine was to be married to him, and not to
his clothes ; and finding it was in vain to argue with him,
to the church they went, he still behaving in the same
mad way, for when the priest asked Petruchio if Katharine
should be his wife, he swore so loud that she should, that,
all amazed, the priest let fall his book, and as he stooped
to take it up, this mad-brained bridegroom gave him such
a cuff, that down fell the priest and his book again . And
all the while they were being married, he stamped and
swore so, that the high-spirited Katharine trembled and
shook with fear. After the ceremony was over, while
they were yet in the church, he called for wine, and drank
a loud health to the company, and threw a sop which was
at the bottom of the glass full in the sexton's face , giving
no other reason for this strange act, than that the sexton's
176 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

beard grew thin and hungerly, and seemed to ask the sop
as he was drinking. Never sure was there such a mad
marriage ; but Petruchio did but put this wildness on, the
better to succeed in the plot he had formed to tame his
shrewish wife.
Baptista had provided a sumptuous marriage feast, but
when they returned from church , Petruchio , taking hold
of Katharine, declared his intention of carrying his wife
home instantly : and no remonstrance of his father-in-law,
or angry words of the enraged Katharine, could make him
change his purpose . He claimed a husband's right to dis-
pose of his wife as he pleased, and away he hurried Katha-
rine off: he seeming so daring and resolute that no one
dared attempt to stop him.
Petruchio mounted his wife upon a miserable horse, lean
and lank, which he had picked out for the purpose, and
himself and his servant no better mounted ; they journeyed
on through rough and miry ways, and ever when this horse
of Katharine's stumbled , he would storm and swear at the
poor jaded beast, who could scarce crawl under his bur-
then, as if he had been the most passionate man alive .
At length, after a weary journey, during which Katha-
rine had heard nothing but the wild ravings of Petruchio
at the servant and the horses, they arrived at his house.
Petruchio welcomed her kindly to her home, but he re-
solved she should have neither rest nor food that night.
The tables were spread, and supper soon served ; but
Petruchio, pretending to find fault with every dish, threw
the meat about the floor, and ordered the servants to re-
move it away ; and all this he did, as he said, in love for
his Katharine, that she might not eat meat that was not
well dressed . And when Katharine, weary and supperless,
retired to rest, he found the same fault with the bed ,
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . 177

throwing the pillows and bed-clothes about the room, so

that she was forced to sit down in a chair, where if she
chanced to drop asleep, she was presently awakened by the
loud voice of her husband, storming at the servants for
the ill-making of his wife's bridal-bed.
The next day Petruchio pursued the same course, still
speaking kind words to Katharine, but when she attempted
to eat, finding fault with every thing that was set before
her, throwing the breakfast on the floor as he had done
the supper ; and Katharine , the haughty Katharine, was
fain to beg the servants would bring her secretly a morsel
of food ; but they being instructed by Petruchio, replied ,
they dared not give her any thing unknown to their mas-
ter.
" Ah," said she, " did he marry me to famish me ? Beg-
gars that come to my father's door have food given them .
But I, who never knew what it was to entreat for any
thing, am starved for want of food , giddy for want of
sleep , with oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed ;
and that which vexes me more than all , he does it under
the name of perfect love, pretending that if I sleep or eat,
it were present death to me ." Here the soliloquy was
interrupted by the entrance of Petruchio : he not mean-
ing she should be quite starved , had brought her a small
portion of meat, and he said to her, " How fares my sweet
Kate ? Here, love, you see how diligent I am , I have
dressed your meat myself. I am sure this kindness merits
thanks. What, not a word ? Nay, then you love not the
meat, and all the pains I have taken is to no purpose ."
He then ordered the servant to take the dish away.
Extreme hunger, which had abated the pride of Katha-
rine, made her say, though angered to the heart, " I
pray you let it stand." But this was not all Petruchio
178 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

intended to bring her to, and he replied, " The poorest

service is repaid with thanks, and so shall mine before
you touch the meat."
On this Katharine brought out a reluctant " I thank you,
sir." And now he suffered her to make a slender meal,
saying, " Much good may it do your gentle heart, Kate ;
eat apace ! And now, my honey love, we will return to
your father's house and revel it as bravely as the best,
with silken coats and caps and golden rings , with ruffs
and scarfs and fans and a double change of finery ; " and
to make her believe he really intended to give her these
gay things, he called in a tailor and a haberdasher, who
brought some new clothes he had ordered for her, and
then giving her plate to the servant to take away, before
she had half satisfied her hunger, he said, " What, have
you dined ? " The haberdasher presented a cap, saying,
" Here is the cap your worship bespoke ; " on which
Petruchio began to storm afresh, saying the cap was
moulded in a porringer, and that it was no bigger than
a cockle or walnut shell, desiring the haberdasher to take
it away and make a bigger. Katharine said, " I will have
this ; all gentlewomen wear such caps as these."
"When you are gentle, " replied Petruchio, " you shall
have one too, and not till then ." The meat Katharine
had eaten had a little revived her fallen spirits, and she
said, " Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak, and
speak I will : I am no child, no babe ; your betters have
endured to hear me say my mind ; and if you cannot, you
had better stop your ears." Petruchio would not hear
these angry words, for he had happily discovered a better
way of managing his wife than keeping up a jangling
argument with her ; therefore his answer was, " Why,
you say true ; it is a paltry cap, and I love you for not
liking it."
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. 179

" Love me, or love me not, " said Katharine, " I like the
cap, and I will have this cap or none."
" You say you wish to see the gown ," said Petruchio,
still affecting to misunderstand her. The tailor then came
forward and showed her a fine gown he had made for her.
Petruchio, whose intent was that she should have neither
cap nor gown , found as much fault with that. " O mercy,
Heaven ! " said he, " what stuff is here ! What, do you call
this a sleeve ? it is like a demi-cannon, carved up and down
like an apple tart." The tailor said, " You bid me make
it according to the fashion of the times " ; and Katharine
said, she never saw a better fashioned gown. This was
enough for Petruchio, and privately desiring these people
might be paid for their goods, and excuses made to them
for the seemingly strange treatment he bestowed upon
them, he with fierce words and furious gestures drove the
tailor and the haberdasher out of the room ; and then,
turning to Katharine, he said , " Well, come, my Kate, we
will go to your father's even in these mean garments we
99
now wear. And then he ordered his horses, affirming
they should reach Baptista's house by dinner-time , for that
it was but seven o'clock. Now it was not early morning,
but the very middle of the day, when he spoke this ;
therefore Katharine ventured to say, though modestly,
being almost overcome by the vehemence of his manner ,
"I dare assure you, sir, it is two o'clock, and will be
supper-time before we get there ."
But Petruchio meant that she should be so completely
subdued, that she should assent to every thing he said ,
before he carried her to her father ; and therefore , as if he
were lord even of the sun, and could command the hours,
he said it should be what time he pleased to have it, before
he set forward ; " For," said he, " whatever I say or do,
180 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

you still are crossing it. I will not go to-day, and when I
go, it shall be what o'clock I say it is." Another day
Katharine was forced to practise her newly-found obedience ,
and not till he had brought her proud spirit to such a per-
fect subjection, that she dared not remember there was
such a word as contradiction, would Petruchio allow her
to go to her father's house ; and even while they were upon
their journey thither, she was in danger of being turned
back again, only because she happened to hint it was the
sun, when he affirmed the moon shone brightly at noonday.
" Now, by my mother's son, " said he, " and that is myself,
it shall be the moon , or stars, or what I list, before I jour-
ney to your father's house." He then made as if he were
going back again ; but Katharine, no longer Katharine the
Shrew, but the obedient wife, said, " Let us go forward, I
pray, now we have come so far, and it shall be the sun , or
moon, or what you please, and if you please to call it a
rush candle henceforth, I vow it shall be so for me." This
he was resolved to prove, therefore he said again, “ I say,
it is the moon."
66
" I know it is the moon," replied Katharine. “ You lie,
it is the blessed sun," said Petruchio. " Then it is the
blessed sun," replied Katharine ; " but sun it is not, when
you say it is not. What you will have it named, even so
it is, and so it ever shall be for Katharine." Now then he
suffered her to proceed on her journey ; but further to try
if this yielding humor would last, he addressed an old
gentleman they met on the road as if he had been a young
woman, saying to him, " Good-morrow, gentle mistress " ;
and asked Katharine if she had ever beheld a fairer gentle-
woman, praising the red and white of the old man's cheeks ,
and comparing his eyes to two bright stars ; and again he
addressed him, saying, " Fair lovely maid, once more good-
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . 181

day to you ! " and said to his wife, " Sweet Kate , embrace
her for her beauty's sake."
The now completely vanquished Katharine quickly
adopted her husband's opinion , and made her speech in
like sort to the old gentleman, saying to him , “ Young
budding virgin, you are fair, and fresh, and sweet : whither
are you going, and where is your dwelling ? Happy are
the parents of so fair a child."
"Why, how now, Kate," said Petruchio ; " I hope you
are not mad. This is a man, old and wrinkled, faded and
withered, and not a maiden, as you say he is." On this
Katharine said, " Pardon me, old gentleman ; the sun has
so dazzled my eyes, that every thing I look on seemeth
green. Now I perceive you are a reverend father : I hope
you will pardon me for my sad mistake."
" Do, good old grandsire," said Petruchio, " and tell us
which way you are travelling. We shall be glad of your
good company, if you are going our way." The old gen-
tleman replied, " Fair sir, and you, my merry mistress,
your strange encounter has much amazed me. My name
is Vincentio, and I am going to visit a son of mine who
lives at Padua ." Then Petruchio knew the old gentle-
man to be the father of Lucentio, a young gentleman who
was to be married to Baptista's younger daughter, Bianca ,
and he made Vincentio very happy, by telling him the
rich marriage his son was about to make : and they all
journeyed on pleasantly together till they came to Bap-
tista's house, where there was a large company assembled
to celebrate the wedding of Bianca and Lucentio, Baptista
having willingly consented to the marriage of Bianca
when he had got Katharine off his hands.
When they entered, Baptista welcomed them to the
wedding feast, and there was present also another newly
married pair.
182 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Lucentio, Bianca's husband, and Hortensio , the other

new married man, could not forbear sly jests, which
seemed to hint at the shrewish disposition of Petruchio's
wife, and these fond bridegrooms seemed highly pleased
with the mild tempers of the ladies they had chosen,
laughing at Petruchio for his less fortunate choice.
Petruchio took little notice of their jokes till the ladies
were retired after dinner, and then he perceived Baptista
himself joined in the laugh against him : for when Petru-
chio affirmed that his wife would prove more obedient
than theirs, the father of Katharine said, " Now, in good
sadness, son Petruchio, I fear you have got the veriest
shrew of all."
"Well," said Petruchio, " I say no, and therefore for
assurance that I speak the truth, let us each one send for
his wife, and he whose wife is most obedient to come at
first when she is sent for, shall win a wager which we will
propose." To this the other two husbands willingly con-
sented, for they were quite confident that their gentle
wives would prove more obedient than the headstrong
Katharine ; and they proposed a wager of twenty crowns ,
but Petruchio merrily said, he would lay as much as that
upon his hawk or hound, but twenty times as much upon
his wife. Lucentio and Hortensio raised the wager to a
hundred crowns , and Lucentio first sent his servant to
desire Bianca would come to him. But the servant
returned, and said, " Sir, my mistress sends you word she
is busy and cannot come."
"How," said Petruchio, " does she say she is busy and
cannot come ? Is that an answer for a wife ? " Then
they laughed at him, and said, it would be well if Katha-
rine did not send him a worse answer. And now it was
Hortensio's turn to send for his wife ; and he said to his
servant, " Go , and entreat my wife to come to me."
 THE TAMING OF THE SHREW . 183

"Oho ! entreat her ! " said Petruchio. " Nay, then, she
needs must come."
“ I am afraid , sir, " said Hortensio , " your wife will not
be entreated ." But presently this civil husband looked a
little blank, when the servant returned without his mis-
tress ; and he said to him, " How now ! Where is my
wife ? "
"Sir," said the servant, " my mistress says, you have
some goodly jest in hand, and therefore she will not come.
She bids you come to her."
" Worse and worse ! " said Petruchio ; and then he sent
his servant, saying, " Sirrah, go to your mistress, and tell
her I command her to come to me." The company had
scarcely time to think she would not obey this summons,
when Baptista, all in amaze, exclaimed , " Now, by my
holidame, here comes Katharine ! " and she entered , say-
ing meekly to Petruchio, " What is your will , sir, that you
send for me ? "
"Where is your sister and Hortensio's wife ? " said he.
Katharine replied, " They sit conferring by the parlor
fire."
66
Go, fetch them hither ! " said Petruchio. Away went
Katharine without reply to perform her husband's com-
mand. " Here is a wonder," said Lucentio, " if you talk
of a wonder."
"And so it is," said Hortensio ; " I marvel what it
bodes. "
"Marry, peace it bodes," said Petruchio, " and love, and
quiet life, and right supremacy ; and, to be short, every
thing that is sweet and happy." Katharine's father, over-
joyed to see this reformation in his daughter, said , “ Now,
fair befall thee, son Petruchio ! you have won the wager,
and I will add another twenty thousand crowns to her
184 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

dowry, as if she were another daughter, for she is

changed, as if she had never been."
"Nay," said Petruchio, " I will win the wager better
yet, and show more signs of her new-built virtue and
obedience." Katharine now entering with the two ladies,
he continued, " See where she comes, and brings your
froward wives as prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
Katharine , that cap of yours does not become you ; off
with that bawble, and throw it under foot." Katharine
instantly took off her cap, and threw it down. " Lord ! "
said Hortensio's wife, " may I never have a cause to sigh
till I am brought to such a silly pass ! " And Bianca, she
too said, " Fie, what foolish duty call you this ? " On this
Bianca's husband said to her, " I wish your duty were as
foolish too ! The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, has
cost me a hundred crowns since dinner-time.”
"The more fool you," said Bianca, " for laying on my
duty."
66
Katharine," said Petruchio, " I charge you tell these
headstrong women what duty they owe their lords and
husbands." And to the wonder of all present, the
reformed shrewish lady spoke as eloquently in praise of
the wifelike duty of obedience, as she had practised it
implicitly in a ready submission to Petruchio's will . And
Katharine once more became famous in Padua, not as
heretofore, as Katharine the Shrew, but as Katharine the
most obedient and duteous wife in Padua.
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 185

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS .

HE states of Syracuse and Ephesus being at variance,

THE
there was a cruel law made at Ephesus, ordaining
that if any merchant of Syracuse was seen in the city of
Ephesus, he was to be put to death, unless he could pay
a thousand marks for the ransom of his life.
Ægeon, an old merchant of Syracuse , was discovered in
the streets of Ephesus, and brought before the duke, either
to pay this heavy fine, or to receive sentence of death.
Ægeon had no money to pay the fine, and the duke ,
before he pronounced the sentence of death upon him,
desired him to relate the history of his life, and to tell for
what cause he had ventured to come to the city of Ephesus ,
which it was death for any Syracusan merchant to enter.
Ægeon said, that he did not fear to die, for sorrow had
made him weary of his life, but that a heavier task could
not have been imposed upon him than to relate the events
of his unfortunate life. He then began his own history,
in the following words :
" I was born at Syracuse, and brought up to the profes-
sion of a merchant. I married a lady, with whom I lived
very happily, but being obliged to go to Epidamnum, I
was detained there by my business six months, and then,
finding I should be obliged to stay some time longer, I
sent for my wife, who, soon after she arrived, became the
mother of two sons, and what was very strange, they were
both so exactly alike, that it was impossible to distinguish
186 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

the one from the other. At about the same time that these
twin boys were born to my wife, two other boys were
born in the inn where my wife lodged, and these twins
were as much like each other as my two sons were .
The parents of these children being exceeding poor, I
bought the two boys, and brought them up to attend
upon my sons.
66
My sons were very fine children, and my wife was not
a little proud of two such boys : and she daily wishing to
return home , I unwillingly agreed, and in an evil hour we
got on shipboard ; for we had not sailed above a league
from Epidamnum before a dreadful storm arose , which
continued with such violence , that the sailors seeing no
chance of saving the ship, crowded into the boat to save
their own lives, leaving us alone in the ship, which we
every moment expected would be destroyed by the fury of
the storm .
“ The incessant weeping of my wife , and the piteous
complaints of the pretty babes, who, not knowing what to
fear, wept for fashion , because they saw their mother weep ,
filled me with terror for them, though I did not for myself
fear death ; and all my thoughts were bent to contrive
means for their safety. I tied my youngest son to the end
of a small spare mast, such as seafaring men provide
against storms ; at the other end I bound the youngest of
the twin slaves , and at the same time I directed my wife how
to fasten the other children in like manner to another mast.
She thus having the care of the two eldest children, and I
of the two younger, we bound ourselves separately to
these masts with the children ; and but for this contrivance
we had all been lost, for the ship split on a mighty rock,
and was dashed in pieces ; and we, clinging to these
slender masts, were supported above the water, where I,
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . 187

having the care of two children, was unable to assist my

wife, who with the other children, were soon separated
from me ; but while they were yet in my sight, they were
taken up by a boat of fishermen , from Corinth (as I sup-
posed) , and seeing them in safety, I had no care but to
struggle with the wild sea-waves, to preserve my dear son
and the youngest slave . At length we, in our turn , were
taken up by a ship, and the sailors, knowing me, gave us
kind welcome and assistance, and landed us in safety at
Syracuse ; but from that sad hour I have never known
what became of my wife and eldest child .
" My youngest son, and now my only care, when he
was eighteen years of age, began to be inquisitive after his
mother and his brother, and often importuned me that he
might take his attendant, the young slave, who had also
lost his brother, and go in search of them : at length I un-
willingly gave consent, for though I anxiously desired to
hear tidings of my wife and eldest son , yet in sending my
younger one to find them, I hazarded the loss of him also .
It is now seven years since my son left me ; five years
have I passed in travelling through the world in search of
him : I have been in farthest Greece, and through the
bounds of Asia, and coasting homewards, I landed here in
Ephesus, being unwilling to leave any place unsought that
harbors men ; but this day must end the story of my life,
and happy should I think myself in my death, if I were
assured my wife and sons were living."
Here the hapless Ægeon ended the account of his mis-
fortunes ; and the duke, pitying this unfortunate father,
who had brought upon himself this great peril by his love
for his lost son, said, if it were not against the laws, which
his oath and dignity did not permit him to alter, he would
freely pardon him ; yet, instead of dooming him to instant
188 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

death, as the strict letter of the law required , he would

give him that day to try if he could beg or borrow the
money to pay the fine.
This day of grace did seem no great favor to Ægeon,
for not knowing any man in Ephesus, there seemed to him
.
but little chance that any stranger would lend or give him
a thousand marks to pay the fine ; and helpless and hope-
less of any relief, he retired from the presence of the duke
in the custody of a jailer.
Ægeon supposed he knew no person in Ephesus ; but at
the very time he was in danger of losing his life through
the careful search he was making after his youngest son,
that son and his eldest son also were both in the city of
Ephesus.
Ægeon's sons, besides being exactly alike in face and
person, were both named alike, being both called Antiph-
olus, and the two twin slaves were also both named
Dromio. Ægeon's youngest son , Antipholus of Syracuse,
he whom the old man had come to Ephesus to seek, hap-
pened to arive at Ephesus with his slave Dromio that very
same day that Ægeon did ; and he being also a merchant
of Syracuse, he would have been in the same danger that
his father was, but by good fortune he met a friend who
told him the peril an old merchant of Syracuse was in,
and advised him to pass for a merchant of Epidamnum ;
this Antipholus agreed to do , and he was sorry to hear
one of his own countrymen was in this danger, but he
little thought this old merchant was his own father.
The eldest son of Egeon (who must be called Antipho-
lus of Ephesus, to distinguish him from his brother
Antipholus of Syracuse ) had lived at Ephesus twenty
years, and, being a rich man , was well able to have paid
the money for the ransom of his father's life ; but Antipho-
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 189

lus knew nothing of his father, being so young when he

was taken out of the sea with his mother by the fishermen
that he only remembered he had been so preserved , but he
had no recollection of either his father or his mother ; the
fishermen who took up this Antipholus and his mother
and the young slave Dromio, having carried the two chil-
dren away from her (to the great grief of that unhappy
lady) , intending to sell them .
Antipholus and Dromio were sold by them to duke
Menaphon, a famous warrior, who was uncle to the duke
of Ephesus, and he carried the boys to Ephesus when he
went to visit the duke his nephew.
The duke of Ephesus taking a liking to young Antipho-
lus, when he grew up, made him an officer in his army, in
which he distinguished himself by his great bravery in the
wars, where he saved the life of his patron the duke, who
rewarded his merit by marrying him to Adriana, a rich
lady of Ephesus ; with whom he was living (his slave
Dromio still attending him) at the time his father came
there.
Antipholus of Syracuse, when he parted with his friend ,
who advised him to say he came from Epidamnum , gave
his slave Dromio some money to carry to the inn where
he intended to dine, and in the mean time he said he
would walk about and view the city, and observe the
manners of the people .
Dromio was a pleasant fellow, and when Antipholus
was dull and melancholy he used to divert himself with
the odd humors and merry jests of his slave, so that the
freedoms of speech he allowed in Dromio were greater
than is usual between masters and their servants.
When Antipholus of Syracuse had sent Dromio away,
he stood awhile thinking over his solitary wanderings in
190 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

search of his mother and his brother, of whom in no place

where he landed could he hear the least tidings ; and he
said sorrowfully to himself, " I am like a drop of water in
the ocean, which seeking to find its fellow drop, loses
itself in the wide sea. So I unhappily, to find a mother
and a brother, do lose myself."
While he was thus meditating on his weary travels,
which had hitherto been so useless, Dromio (as he
thought) returned . Antipholus, wondering that he came
back so soon, asked him where he had left the money .
Now it was not his own Dromio , but the twin-brother that
lived with Antipholus of Ephesus, that he spoke to . The
two Dromios and the two Antipholuses were still as much
alike as Egeon had said they were in their infancy ;
therefore no wonder Antipholus thought it was his own
slave returned, and asked him why he came back so soon .
Dromio replied, " My mistress sent me to bid you come to
dinner. The capon burns, and the pig falls from the spit,
and the meat will be all cold if you do not come home."
" These jests are out of season," said Antipholus : " where
did you leave the money ? " Dromio still answering, that
his mistress had sent him to fetch Antipholus to dinner :
" What mistress ? " said Antipholus . "Why, your wor-
ship's wife, sir," replied Dromio . Antipholus having no
wife, he was very angry with Dromio, and said, " Because
I familiarly sometimes chat with you, you presume to jest
with me in this free manner. I am not in a sportive
humor now : where is the money ? we being strangers
here, how dare you trust so great a charge from your own
custody ? " Dromio hearing his master, as he thought
him, talk of their being strangers, supposing Antipholus
was jesting, replied merrily, " I pray you , sir, jest as you
sit at dinner. I had no charge but to fetch you home, to
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 191

dine with my mistress and her sister." Now Antipholus

lost all patience, and beat Dromio, who ran home, and
told his mistress that his master had refused to come to
dinner, and said that he had no wife.
Adriana, the wife of Antipholus of Ephesus , was very
angry when she heard that her husband said he had no
wife ; for she was of a jealous temper, and she said her
husband meant that he loved another lady better than
herself ; and she began to fret, and say unkind words of
jealousy and reproach of her husband ; and her sister
Luciana, who lived with her, tried in vain to persuade her
out of her groundless suspicions.
Antipholus of Syracuse went to the inn, and found Dro-
mio with the money in safety there, and seeing his own
Dromio, he was going again to chide him for his free jests ,
when Adriana came up to him, and not doubting but it
was her husband she saw, she began to reproach him for
looking strange upon her (as well he might, never having
seen this angry lady before ) ; and then she told him how
well he loved her before they were married, and that now
he loved some other lady instead of her. " How comes it
now, my husband," said she, " O how comes it that I have
lost your love ? " " Plead you to me, fair dame ? " said
the astonished Antipholus. It was in vain he told her he
was not her husband, and that he had been in Ephesus but
two hours ; she insisted on his going home with her, and
Antipholus at last, being unable to get away, went with
her to his brother's house, and dined with Adriana and
her sister, the one calling him husband, and the other
brother, he, all amazed , thinking he must have been mar-
ried to her in his sleep, or that he was sleeping now. And
Dromio, who followed them, was no less surprised, for the
cook-maid, who was his brother's wife, also claimed him
for her husband.
192 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

While Antipholus of Syracuse was dining with his

brother's wife, his brother, the real husband, returned
home to dinner with his slave Dromio ; but the servants
would not open the door, because their mistress had
ordered them not to admit any company ; and when they
repeatedly knocked, and said they were Antipholus and
Dromio, the maids laughed at them, and said that Antiph-
olus was at dinner with their mistress, and Dromio was
in the kitchen ; and though they almost knocked the door
down, they could not gain admittance, and at last Antiph-
olus went away very angry, and strangely surprised at
hearing a gentleman' was dining with his wife.
When Antipholus of Syracuse had finished his dinner,
he was so perplexed at the lady's still persisting in calling
him husband, and at hearing that Dromio had also been
claimed by the cook-maid, that he left the house, as soon
as he could find any pretence to get away ; for though he
was very much pleased with Luciana, the sister, yet the
jealous-tempered Adriana he disliked very much , nor was
Dromio at all better satisfied with his fair wife in the
kitchen therefore both master and man were glad to get
away from their new wives as fast as they could .
The moment Antipholus of Syracuse had left the house,
he was met by a goldsmith , who mistaking him, as Adriana
had done, for Antipholus of Ephesus, gave him a gold
chain , calling him by his name ; and when Antipholus
would have refused the chain, saying it did not belong to
him, the goldsmith replied he made it by his own orders ;
and went away, leaving the chain in the hands of Antiph-
olus, who ordered his man Dromio to get his things on
board a ship, not choosing to stay in a place any longer
where he met with such strange adventures that he surely
thought himself bewitched .
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . 193

The goldsmith who had given the chain to the wrong

Antipholus, was arrested immediately after for a sum of
money he owed ; and Antipholus, the married brother, to
whom the goldsmith thought he had given the chain, hap-
pened to come to the place where the officer was arresting
the goldsmith, who, when he saw Antipholus, asked him
to pay for the gold chain he had just delivered to him, the
price amounting to nearly the same sum as that for which
he had been arrested. Antipholus denying the having
received the chain, and the goldsmith persisting to declare
that he had but a few minutes before given it to him, they
disputed this matter a long time, both thinking they were
right for Antipholus knew the goldsmith never gave him
the chain, and so like were the two brothers, the gold-
smith was as certain he had delivered the chain into his
hands , till at last the officer took the goldsmith away to
prison for the debt he owed, and at the same time the
goldsmith made the officer arrest Antipholus for the price
of the chain ; so that at the conclusion of their dispute,
Antipholus and the merchant were both taken away to
prison together.
As Antipholus was going to prison, he met Dromio of
Syracuse, his brother's slave , and mistaking him for his
own, he ordered him to go to Adriana his wife, and tell
her to send the money for which he was arrested. Dromio
wondering that his master should send him back to the
strange house where he dined , and from which he had just
before been in such haste to depart, did not dare to reply,
though he came to tell his master the ship was ready to
sail : for he saw Antipholus was in no humor to be jested
with. Therefore he went away, grumbling within himself,
that he must return to Adriana's house, " Where," said he,
" Dowsabel claims me for a husband : but I must go, for
servants must obey their masters ' commands ."
194 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Adriana gave him the money, and as Dromio was re-

turning, he met Antipholus of Syracuse, who was still in
amaze at the surprising adventures he met with ; for his
brother being well known in Ephesus, there was hardly
a man he met in the streets but saluted him as an old
acquaintance : some offered him money which they said
was owing to him, some invited him to come and see them ,
and some gave him thanks for kindnesses they said he had
done them, all mistaking him for his brother. A tailor
showed him some silks he had bought for him, and insisted
upon taking measure of him for some clothes.
Antipholus began to think he was among a nation of
sorcerers and witches , and Dromio did not at all relieve
his master from his bewildered thoughts, by asking him
how he got free from the officer who was carrying him to
prison, and giving him the purse of gold which Adriana.
had sent to pay the debt with. This talk of Dromio's of
the arrest and of a prison, and of the money he had
brought from Adriana, perfectly confounded Antipholus ,
and he said, " This fellow Dromio is certainly distracted,
and we wander here in illusions " ; and quite terrified at
his own confused thoughts, he cried out, " Some blessed
power deliver us from this strange place ! "
And now another stranger came up to him , and she was
a lady, and she too called him Antipholus, and told him
he had dined with her that day, and asked him for a gold
chain which she said he had promised to give her. Antiph-
olus now lost all patience, and calling her a sorceress ,
he denied that he had ever promised her a chain , or dined
with her, or had even seen her face before that moment .
The lady persisted in affirming he had dined with her, and
had promised her a chain, which Antipholus still denying,
she further said, that she had given him a valuable ring,
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 195

and if he would not give her the gold chain, she insisted
upon having her own ring again . On this Antipholus
became quite frantic, and again calling her sorceress and
witch, and denying all knowledge of her or her ring, ran
away from her, leaving her astonished at his words and
his wild looks, for nothing to her appeared more certain
than that he had dined with her, and that she had given
him a ring, in consequence of his promising to make her a
present of a gold chain . But this lady had fallen into the
same mistake the others had done , for she had taken him
for his brother : the married Antipholus had done all the
things she taxed this Antipholus with .
When the married Antipholus was denied entrance into
his own house (those within supposing him to be already
there), he had gone away very angry, believing it to be
one of his wife's jealous freaks, to which she was very sub-
ject, and remembering that she had often falsely accused
him of visiting other ladies, he, to be revenged on her for
shutting him out of his own house, determined to go and
dine with this lady, and she receiving him with great
civility, and his wife having so highly offended him ,
Antipholus promised to give her a gold chain, which he
had intended as a present for his wife ; it was the same
chain which the goldsmith by mistake had given to his
brother. The lady liked so well the thoughts of having a
fine gold chain, that she gave the married Antipholus
a ring ; which when, as she supposed (taking his brother
for him) , he denied, and said he did not know her, and
left her in such a wild passion , she began to think he was
certainly out of his senses ; and presently she resolved to
go and tell Adriana that her husband was mad. And

while she was telling it to Adriana, he came, attended by

the jailer (who allowed him to come home to get the
196 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

money to pay the debt) , for the purse of money, which

Adriana had sent by Dromio, and he had delivered to the
other Antipholus.
Adriana believed the story the lady told her of her hus-
band's madness must be true, when he reproached her
for shutting him out of his own house ; and remembering
how he had protested all dinner-time that he was not her
husband, and had never been in Ephesus till that day, she
had no doubt that he was mad ; she therefore paid the
jailer the money, and having discharged him, she ordered
her servants to bind her husband with ropes, and had him
conveyed into a dark room, and sent for a doctor to come
and cure him of his madness : Antipholus all the while
hotly exclaiming against this false accusation , which the
exact likeness he bore to his brother had brought upon
him . But his rage only the more confirmed them in the
belief that he was mad ; and Dromio persisting in the
same story, they bound him also , and took him away along
with his master.
Soon after Adriana had put her husband into confine-
ment, a servant came to tell her that Antipholus and
Dromio must have broken loose from their keepers , for
that they were both walking at liberty in the next street.
On hearing this, Adriana ran out to fetch him home , taking
some people with her to secure her husband again ; and
her sister went along with her. When they came to the
gates of a convent in their neighborhood , there they saw
Antipholus and Dromio, as they thought, being again
deceived by the likeness of the twin-brothers.
Antipholus of Syracuse was still beset with the per-
plexities this likeness had brought upon him. The chain
which the goldsmith had given him was about his neck,
and the goldsmith was reproaching him for denying that
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 197

he had it, and refusing to pay for it, and Antipholus was
protesting that the goldsmith freely gave him the chain in
the morning, and that from that hour he had never seen
the goldsmith again .
And now Adriana came up to him and claimed him as
her lunatic husband, who had escaped from his keepers ;
and the men she brought with her were going to lay
violent hands on Antipholus and Dromio ; but they ran
into the convent, and Antipholus begged the abbess to
give him shelter in her house.
And now came out the lady abbess herself to inquire
into the cause of this disturbance . She was a grave and
venerable lady, and wise to judge of what she saw, and
she would not too hastily give up the man who had
sought protection in her house ; so she strictly questioned
the wife about the story she told of her husband's mad-
ness, and she said , "What is the cause of this sudden
distemper of your husband's ? Has he lost his wealth at
sea ? Or is it the death of some dear friend that has dis-
turbed his mind ? ” Adriana replied, that no such things
as these had been the cause. " Perhaps," said the abbess,
"he has fixed his affections on some other lady than you
his wife ; and that has driven him to this state ." Adriana
said she had long thought the love of some other lady was
the cause of his frequent absences from home. Now it
was not his love for another, but the teasing jealousy of
his wife's temper, that often obliged Antipholus to leave
his home ; and ( the abbess suspecting this from the
vehemence of Adriana's manner) to learn the truth, she
said, " You should have reprehended him for this."-
"Why, so I did,” replied Adriana. " Ay," said the abbess,
"but perhaps not enough. " Adriana, willing to convince
the abbess that she had said enough to Antipholus on the
198 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

subject, replied , " It was the constant subject of our con-

versation in bed I would not let him sleep for speaking
of it. At table I would not let him eat for speaking of it.
When I was alone with him, I talked of nothing else ; and
in company I gave him frequent hints of it. Still all my
talk was how vile and bad it was in him to love any lady
better than me."
The lady abbess, having drawn this full confession from
the jealous Adriana, now said, " And therefore comes it
that your husband is mad . The venomous clamor of a
jealous woman is a more deadly poison than a mad dog's
tooth. It seems his sleep was hindered by your railing ;
no wonder that his head is light : and his meat was sauced
with your upbraidings ; unquiet meals make ill digestions,
and that has thrown him into this fever. You say his
sports were disturbed by your brawls ; being debarred
from the enjoyment of society and recreation, what could
ensue but dull melancholy and comfortless despair ? The
consequence is then, that your jealous fits have made your
husband mad.”
Luciana would have excused her sister, saying , she
always reprehended her husband mildly ; and she said to
her sister, " Why do you hear these rebukes without
answering them ? " But the abbess had made her so
plainly perceive her fault, that she could only answer,
" She has betrayed me to my own reproof."
Adriana, though ashamed of her own conduct, still
insisted on having her husband delivered up to her ; but
the abbess would suffer no person to enter her house, nor
would she deliver up this unhappy man to the care of the
jealous wife, determining herself to use gentle means for
his recovery, and she retired into her house again, and
ordered her gates to be shut against them.
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS . 199

During the course of this eventful day, in which so

many errors had happened from the likeness the twin
brothers bore to each other, old Egeon's day of grace was
passing away, it being now near sunset ; and at sunset he
was doomed to die, if he could not pay the money.
The place of his execution was near this convent, and
here he arrived just as the abbess retired into the convent ;
the duke attending in person , that if any offered to pay
the money, he might be present to pardon him .
Adriana stopped this melancholy procession, and cried
out to the duke for justice, telling him that the abbess had
refused to deliver up her lunatic husband to her care.
While she was speaking, her real husband and his servant
Dromio, who had got loose, came before the duke to
demand justice, complaining that his wife had confined
him on a false charge of lunacy ; and telling in what man-
ner he had broken his bands, and eluded the vigilance of
his keepers. Adriana was strangely surprised to see her
husband, when she thought he had been within the convent.
Ægeon, seeing his son, concluded this was the son who
had left him to go in search of his mother and his brother ;
and he felt secure that this dear son would readily pay the
money demanded for his ransom. He therefore spoke to
Antipholus in words of fatherly affection, with joyful hope
that he should now be released . But to the utter astonish-
ment of Ægeon , his son denied all knowledge of him, as
well he might, for this Antipholus had never seen his
father since they were separated in the storm in his in-
fancy ; but while the poor old Ægeon was in vain endeav-
oring to make his son acknowledge him, thinking surely
that either his griefs and the anxieties he had suffered had
so strangely altered him that his son did not know him, or
else that he was ashamed to acknowledge his father in his
200 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

misery ; in the midst of this perplexity, the lady abbess

and the other Antipholus and Dromio came out, and the
wondering Adriana saw two husbands and two Dromios
standing before her .
And now these riddling errors, which had so perplexed
them all, were clearly made out. When the duke saw the
two Antipholuses and the two Dromios both so exactly
alike, he at once conjectured aright of these seeming
mysteries, for he remembered the story Ægeon had told
him in the morning ; and he said, these men must be the
two sons of Egeon and their twin slaves.
But now an unlooked-for joy indeed completed the
history of Ægeon ; and the tale he had in the morning
told in sorrow , and under sentence of death, before the
setting sun went down was brought to a happy conclusion,
for the venerable lady abbess made herself known to be
the long-lost wife of Ægeon , and the . fond mother of the
two Antipholuses .
When the fishermen took the eldest Antipholus and
Dromio away from her, she entered a nunnery, and by her
wise and virtuous conduct, she was at length made lady
abbess of this convent, and in discharging the rites of
hospitality to an unhappy stranger she had unknowingly
protected her own son.
Joyful congratulations and affectionate greetings be-
tween these long separated parents and their children
made them for a while forget that Egeon was yet under
sentence of death ; but when they were become a little
calm, Antipholus of Ephesus offered the duke the ransom
money for his father's life ; but the duke freely pardoned
Ægeon, and would not take the money. And the duke
went with the abbess and her newly-found husband and
children into the convent, to hear this happy family dis-
 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. 201

course at leisure of the blessed ending of their adverse

fortunes. And the two Dromios' humble joy must not be
forgotten ; they had their congratulations and greetings
too, and each Dromio pleasantly complimented his brother
on his good looks, being well pleased to see his own person
(as in a glass) show so handsome in his brother.
Adriana had so well profited by the good counsel of her
mother-in-law, that she never after cherished unjust suspi
cions, or was jealous of her husband .
Antipholus of Syracuse married the fair Luciana, the
sister of his brother's wife ; and the good old Egeon, with
his wife and sons, lived at Ephesus many years. Nor did
the unravelling of these perplexities so entirely remove
every ground of mistake for the future, but that some-
times , to remind them of adventures past, comical blunders
would happen, and the one Antipholus, and the one Dro-
mio, be mistaken for the other, making altogether a pleasant
and diverting Comedy of Errors.
202 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

TWELFTH NIGHT ; OR, WHAT YOU WILL .

EBASTIAN and his sister Viola, a young gentleman

SEBAS
and lady of Messaline, were twins, and (which was
accounted a great wonder ) from their birth they so much
resembled each other, that, but for the difference in their
dress, they could not be known apart. They were both
born in one hour, and in one hour they were both in dan-
ger of perishing, for they were shipwrecked on the coast of
Illyria, as they were making a sea-voyage together. The
ship, on board of which they were , split on a rock in a
violent storm , and a very small number of the ship's com-
pany escaped with their lives. The captain of the vessel,
with a few of the sailors that were saved, got to land in a
small boat, and with them they brought Viola safe on
shore, where she, poor lady, instead of rejoicing at her own
deliverance, began to lament her brother's loss ; but the
captain comforted her with the assurance that he had seen
her brother, when the ship split, fasten himself to a strong
mast , on which , as long as he could see any thing of him
for the distance, he perceived him borne up above the
waves. Viola was much consoled by the hope this account
gave her, and now considered how she was to dispose of
herself in a strange country, so far from home ; and she
asked the captain if he knew any thing of Illyria . “ Ay,
very well, madam, " replied the captain, " for I was born
not three hours' travel from this place." - " Who governs
here ? " said Viola. The captain told her, Illyria was gov-
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 203

erned by Orsino, a duke noble in nature as well as dignity .

Viola said, she had heard her father speak of Orsino, and
that he was unmarried then . " And he is so now," said
the captain ; " or was so very lately, for, but a month ago,
I went from here, and then it was the general talk (as you
know what great ones do , the people will prattle of) that
Orsino sought the love of fair Olivia, a virtuous maid, the
daughter of a count who died twelve months ago, leaving
Olivia to the protection of her brother, who shortly after
died also ; and for the love of this dear brother, they say,
she has abjured the sight and company of men ." Viola,
who was herself in such a sad affliction for her brother's
loss, wished she could live with this lady, who so tenderly
mourned a brother's death. She asked the captain if he
could introduce her to Olivia, saying she would willingly
serve this lady. But he replied, this would be a hard thing
to accomplish, because the lady Olivia would admit no
person into her house since her brother's death, not even
the duke himself. Then Viola formed another project in
her mind, which was, in a man's habit, to serve the duke
Orsino as a page. It was a strange fancy in a young lady
to put on male attire, and pass for a boy ; but the forlorn
and unprotected state of Viola, who was young and of
uncommon beauty, alone, and in a foreign land, must
plead her excuse .
She having observed a fair behavior in the captain,
and that he showed a friendly concern for her welfare,
intrusted him with her design, and he readily engaged
to assist her. Viola gave him money, and directed him to
furnish her with suitable apparel, ordering her clothes to
be made of the same color and in the same fashion her
brother Sebastian used to wear, and when she was dressed
in her manly garb, she looked so exactly like her brother
204 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

that some strange errors happened by means of their being

mistaken for each other ; for, as will afterwards appear,
Sebastian was also saved.
Viola's good friend , the captain , when he had trans-
formed this pretty lady into a gentleman, having some
interest at court, got her presented to Orsino under the
feigned name of Cesario. The duke was wonderfully
pleased with the address and graceful deportment of this
handsome youth, and made Cesario one of his pages, that
being the office Viola wished to obtain : and she so well
fulfilled the duties of her new station, and showed such a
ready observance and faithful attachment to her lord, that
she soon became his most favored attendant. To Cesario
Orsino confided the whole history of his love for the lady
Olivia. To Cesario he told the long and unsuccessful suit
he had made to one who, rejecting his long services, and
despising his person , refused to admit him to her presence ;
and for the love of this lady who had so unkindly treated
him, the noble Orsino, forsaking the sports of the field and
all manly exercises in which he used to delight, passed his
hours in ignoble sloth, listening to the effeminate sounds
of soft music, gentle airs, and passionate love-songs ; and
neglecting the company of the wise and learned lords with
whom he used to associate, he was now all day long con-
versing with young Cesario. Unmeet companion no doubt
his grave courtiers thought Cesario was for their once
noble master, the great duke Orsino.
It is a dangerous matter for young maidens to be the
confidantes of handsome young dukes ; which Viola too
soon found to her sorrow, for all that Orsino told her he
endured for Olivia, she presently perceived she suffered for
the love of him ; and much it moved her wonder, that
Olivia could be so regardless of this her peerless lord and
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 205

master, whom she thought no one could behold without

the deepest admiration, and she ventured gently to hint to
Orsino, that it was pity he should affect a lady who was so
blind to his worthy qualities ; and she said, " If a lady
were to love you, my lord, as you love Olivia (and perhaps
there may be one who does ) , if you could not love her in
return, would you not tell her that you could not love,
and must she not be content with this answer ? " But
Orsino would not admit of this reasoning, for he denied
that it was possible for any woman to love as he did . He
said, no woman's heart was big enough to hold so much
love, and therefore it was unfair to compare the love of
any lady for him, to his love for Olivia. Now, though
Viola had the utmost deference for the duke's opinions ,
she could not help thinking this was not quite true , for
she thought her heart had full as much love in it as
Orsino's had ; and she said , " Ah, but I know, my lord."
" What do you know, Cesario ? " said Orsino . " Too
well I know," replied Viola, " what love women may owe
to men . They are as true of heart as we are . My father
had a daughter loved a man , as I perhaps, were I a woman ,
should love your lordship ." . " And what is her history ?"
said Orsino. " A blank, my lord, " replied Viola : " 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." The duke
inquired if this lady died of her love , but to this question
Viola returned an evasive answer ; as probably she had
feigned the story, to speak words expressive of the secret
love and silent grief she suffered for Orsino.
While they were talking, a gentleman entered whom
the duke had sent to Olivia, and he said, " So please you,
206 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

my lord, I might not be admitted to the lady, but by her

handmaid she returned you this answer : Until seven
years hence, the element itself shall not behold her face ;
but like a cloistress she will walk veiled, watering her
chamber with her tears for the sad remembrance of her
dead brother." On hearing this, the duke exclaimed , “ O
she that has a heart of this fine frame, to pay this debt of
love to a dead brother, how will she love, when the rich
golden shaft has touched her heart ! " And then he said
to Viola, " You know, Cesario, I have told you all the
secrets of my heart ; therefore , good youth, go to Olivia's
house. Be not denied access ; stand at her doors, and
tell her, there your fixed foot shall grow till you have
audience.” — “ And if I do speak to her, my lord , what
then ? " said Viola. " O then," replied Orsino , “ unfold
to her the passion of my love . Make a long discourse to
her of my dear faith . It will well become you to act my
woes, for she will attend more to you than to one of
graver aspect."
Away then went Viola ; but not willingly did she
undertake this courtship, for she was to woo a lady to
become a wife to him she wished to marry : but having
undertaken the affair, she performed it with fidelity ; and
Olivia soon heard that a youth was at her door who
insisted upon being admitted to her presence. " I told
him," said the servant, " that you were sick : he said he
knew you were, and therefore he came to speak with you.
I told him that you were asleep : he seemed to have a
foreknowledge of that too, and said, that therefore he
must speak with you . What is to be said to him, lady ?
for he seems fortified against all denial, and will speak
with you, whether you will or no. " Olivia, curious to see
who this peremptory messenger might be, desired he
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 207

might be admitted ; and throwing her veil over her face,

she said she would once more hear Orsino's embassy, not
doubting but that he came from the duke, by his importu-
nity. Viola, entering, put on the most manly air she
could assume, and affecting the fine courtier language of
great men's pages, she said to the veiled lady, " Most radi-
ant, exquisite, and matchless beauty, I pray you tell me if
you are the lady of the house ; for I should be sorry to
cast away my speech upon another ; for besides that it is
excellently well penned , I have taken great pains to learn
it." "Whence come you, sir ? " said Olivia. "I can say
little more than I have studied ," replied Viola ; " and that
question is out of my part." -" Are you a comedian ? "
said Olivia. " No," replied Viola , " and yet I am not
that which I play " ; meaning that she, being a woman,
feigned herself to be a man. And again she asked Olivia
if she were the lady of the house . Olivia said she was ;
and then Viola, having more curiosity to see her rival's
features, than haste to deliver her master's message, said,
“ Good madam, let me see your face ." With this bold
request Olivia was not averse to comply ; for this haughty
beauty, whom the duke Orsino had loved so long in vain ,
at first sight conceived a passion for the supposed page,
the humble Cesario.
When Viola asked to see her face , Olivia said, “ Have
you any commission from your lord and master to negoti
ate with my face ? " And then, forgetting her determina-
tion to go veiled for seven long years, she drew aside her
veil, saying, " But I will draw the curtain and show the
picture. Is it not well done ? " Viola replied, " It is
beauty truly mixed ; the red and white upon your cheeks.
is by Nature's own cunning hand laid on . You are the
most cruel lady living, if you will lead these graces to the
208 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

grave, and leave the world no copy." -" O sir,” replied

Olivia, " I will not be so cruel. The world may have an
inventory of my beauty. As, item, two lips, indifferent
red ; item, two gray eyes, with lids to them ; one neck ;
one chin ; and so forth . Were you sent here to praise
me ? " Viola replied, " I see what you are : you are too
proud, but you are fair. My lord and master loves you.
Oh, such a love could but be recompensed, though you
were crowned the queen of beauty : for Orsino loves
you with adoration and with tears, with groans that
thunder love, and sighs of fire." - " Your lord ," said
Olivia, " knows well my mind. I cannot love him ; yet I
doubt not he is virtuous ; I know him to be noble and of
high estate, of fresh and spotless youth . All voices pro-
claim him learned , courteous, and valiant : yet I cannot
love him, he might have taken his answer long ago."
" If I did love you as my master does," said Viola , “ I-
would make me a willow cabin at your gates, and call
upon your name ; I would write complaining sonnets on
Olivia, and sing them in the dead of the night ; your name
should sound among the hills, and I would make Echo ,
the babbling gossip of the air, cry out Olivia. Oh, you
should not rest between the elements of earth and air, but
you should pity me." -" You might do much," said
Olivia : " what is your parentage ? " Viola replied,
"Above my fortunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentle-
man." Olivia now reluctantly dismissed Viola, saying,
" Go to your master, and tell him I cannot love him . Let
him send no more, unless perchance you come again to
tell me how he takes it." And Viola departed , bidding
the lady farewell by the name of Fair Cruelty. When
she was gone, Olivia repeated the words, Above my for-
tunes, yet my state is well. I am a gentleman. And she
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 209

said aloud, " I will be sworn he is ; his tongue, his face,

his limbs , action, and spirit, plainly show he is a gentle-
man." And then she wished Cesario was the duke ; and
perceiving the fast hold he had taken on her affections,
she blamed herself for her sudden love : but the gentle
blame which people lay upon their own faults has no deep
root ; and presently the noble lady Olivia so far forgot the
inequality between her fortunes and those of this seeming
page, as well as the maidenly reserve which is the chief
ornament of a lady's character, that she resolved to court
the love of young Cesario, and sent a servant after him
with a diamond ring, under the pretence that he had left
it with her as a present from Orsino. She hoped by thus
artfully making Cesario a present of the ring, she should
give him some intimation of her design ; and truly it did
make Viola suspect ; for knowing that Orsino had sent no
ring by her, she began to recollect that Olivia's looks and
manner were expressive of admiration , and she presently
guessed her master's mistress had fallen in love with her.
" Alas," said she, " the poor lady might as well love a
dream . Disguise I see is wicked, for it has caused Olivia
to breathe as fruitless sighs for me as I do for Orsino."
Viola returned to Orsino's palace, and related to her
lord the ill success of the negotiation , repeating the com-
mand of Olivia, that the duke should trouble her no more .
Yet still the duke persisted in hoping that the gentle
Cesario would in time be able to persuade her to show
some pity, and therefore he bade him he should go to her
again the next day. In the mean time, to pass away the
tedious interval, he commanded a song which he loved to
be sung ; and he said, " My good Cesario, when I heard
that song last night, methought it did relieve my passion
much. Mark it, Cesario, it is old and plain . The spin-
210 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

sters and the knitters when they sit in the sun, and the
young maids that weave their thread with bone, chant this
song. It is silly, yet I love it, for it tells of the innocence
of love in the old times."
SONG.
Come away, come away, Death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away, fly away, breath,
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O prepare it !
My part of death no one so true did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strewn :
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown.
A thousand thousand sighs to save, lay me O where
Sad true lover never find my grave, to weep there !

Viola did not fail to mark the words of the old song,
which in such true simplicity described the pangs of unre-
quited love, and she bore testimony in her countenance
of feeling what the song expressed . Her sad looks were
observed by Orsino, who said to her, " My life upon it,
Cesario, though you are so young, your eye has looked
upon some face that it loves : has it not, boy ? " -" A
little, with your leave, " replied Viola ; " And what kind
of woman, and of what age is she ? " said Orsino . “ Of
your age and of your complexion , my lord," said Viola ;
which made the duke smile to hear this fair young boy
loved a woman so much older than himself, and of a man's
dark complexion ; but Viola secretly meant Orsino , and
not a woman like him .
When Viola made her second visit to Olivia, she found
no difficulty in gaining access to her. Servants soon dis-
cover when their ladies delight to converse with handsome
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 211

young messengers ; and the instant Viola arrived, the

gates were thrown wide open , and the duke's page was
shown into Olivia's apartment with great respect ; and
when Viola told Olivia that she was come once more to
plead in her lord's behalf, this lady said , " I desired you
never to speak of him again ; but if you would undertake
another suit, I had rather hear you solicit, than music
from the spheres." This was pretty plain speaking, but
Olivia soon explained herself still more plainly, and openly
confessed her love ; and when she saw displeasure with
perplexity expressed in Viola's face, she said, “ O what a
deal of scorn looks beautiful in the contempt and anger
of his lip ! Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maid-
hood, honor, and by truth, I love you so, that, in spite of
your pride, I have neither wit nor reason to conceal my
passion." But in vain the lady wooed ; Viola hastened
from her presence, threatening never more to come to
plead Orsino's love ; and all the reply she made to Olivia's
fond solicitation was, a declaration of a resolution Never
to love any woman.
No sooner had Viola left the lady than a claim was
made upon her valor . A gentleman , a rejected suitor of
Olivia, who had learned how that lady had favored the
duke's messenger, challenged him to fight a duel. What
should poor Viola do , who , though she carried a manlike
outside, had a true woman's heart, and feared to look on
her own sword ?
When she saw her formidable rival advancing towards
her with his sword drawn, she began to think of con-
fessing that she was a woman ; but she was relieved at
once from her terror, and the shame of such a discovery,
by a stranger that was passing by, who made up to them,
and as if he had been long known to her, and were her
212 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

dearest friend, said to her opponent, " If this young gentle-

man has done offence, I will take the fault on me ; and if
you offend him, I will for his sake defy you ." Before
Viola had time to thank him for his protection, or to
inquire the reason of his kind interference , her new
friend met with an enemy where his bravery was of no
use to him ; for the officers of justice coming up in that
instant, apprehended the stranger in the duke's name , to
answer for an offence he had committed some years
before and he said to Viola, " This comes with seeking
you " : and then he asked her for a purse, saying, “ Now
my necessity makes me ask for my purse, and it grieves
me much more for what I cannot do for you, than for
what befalls myself. You stand amazed, but be of com-
fort." His words did indeed amaze Viola, and she pro-
tested she knew him not, nor had ever received a purse
from him ; but for the kindness he had just shown her,
she offered him a small sum of money, being nearly the
whole she possessed . And now the stranger spoke severe
things, charging her with ingratitude and unkindness .
He said, " This youth, whom you see here , I snatched
from the jaws of death, and for his sake alone I came to
Illyria, and have fallen into this danger."
But the officers cared little for hearkening to the com-
plaints of their prisoner, and they hurried him off, saying,
" What is that to us ? " And as he was carried away, he
called Viola by the name of Sebastian , reproaching the
supposed Sebastian for disowning his friend, as long as he
was within hearing. When Viola heard herself called
Sebastian, though the stranger was taken away too hastily
for her to ask an explanation, she conjectured that this
seeming mystery might arise from her being mistaken for
her brother ; and she began to cherish hopes that it was
 TWELFTH NIGHT . 213

her brother whose life this man said he had preserved .

And so indeed it was. The stranger, whose name was
Antonio, was a sea-captain. He had taken Sebastian up
into his ship, when, almost exhausted with fatigue, he was
floating on the mast to which he had fastened himself in
the storm . Antonio conceived such a friendship for
Sebastian, that he resolved to accompany him whither-
soever he went ; and when the youth expressed a curiosity
to visit Orsino's court, Antonio, rather than part from
him, came to Illyria, though he knew, if his person should
be known there, his life would be in danger, because in
a sea-fight he had once dangerously wounded the duke
Orsino's nephew. This was the offence for which he was
now made a prisoner.
Antonio and Sebastian had landed together but a few
hours before Antonio met Viola. He had given his purse
to Sebastian , desiring him to use it freely if he saw any
thing he wished to purchase , telling him he would wait at
the inn, while Sebastian went to view the town ; but
Sebastian not returning at the time appointed, Antonio
had ventured out to look for him, and Viola being dressed
the same, and in face so exactly resembling her brother,
Antonio drew his sword (as he thought) in defence of the
youth he had saved , and when Sebastian (as he supposed)
disowned him, and denied him his own purse, no wonder
he accused him of ingratitude.
Viola, when Antonio was gone, fearing a second invita
tion to fight, slunk home as fast as she could. She had
not been long gone, when her adversary thought he saw
her return ; but it was her brother Sebastian, who hap-
pened to arrive at this place, and he said, " Now, sir, have
I met with you again ? There's for you " ; and struck him
a blow. Sebastian was no coward ; he returned the blow
with interest, and drew his sword .
214 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

A lady now put a stop to this duel, for Olivia came out
of the house, and she too mistaking Sebastian for Cesario,
invited him to come into her house, expressing much sor-
row at the rude attack he had met with. Though Sebas-
tian was as much surprised at the courtesy of this lady as
at the rudeness of his unknown foe, yet he went very
willingly into the house, and Olivia was delighted to find
Cesario (as she thought him) become more sensible of her
attentions ; for though their features were exactly the
same, there was none of the contempt and anger to be
seen in his face, which she had complained of when she
told her love to Cesario .
Sebastian did not at all object to the fondness the lady
lavished on him. He seemed to take it in very good part,
yet he wondered how it had come to pass, and he was
rather inclined to think Olivia was not in her right senses ;
but perceiving that she was mistress of a fine house, and
that she ordered her affairs and seemed to govern her
family discreetly, and that in all but her sudden love for
him she appeared in the full possession of her reason , he
well approved of the courtship ; and Olivia finding Cesario
in this good humor, and fearing he might change his mind,
proposed that, as she had a priest in the house, they
should be instantly married . Sebastian assented to this
proposal ; and when the marriage ceremony was over, he
left his lady for a short time, intending to go and tell his
friend Antonio the good fortune that he had met with .
In the mean time Orsino came to visit Olivia : and at the
moment he arrived before Olivia's house, the officers of
justice brought their prisoner, Antonio, before the duke .
Viola was with Orsino , her master ; and when Antonio
saw Viola, whom he still imagined to be Sebastian , he told
the duke in what manner he had rescued this youth from
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 215

the perils of the sea ; and after fully relating all the kind-
ness he had really shown to Sebastian, he ended his com-
plaint with saying, that for three months, both day and
night, this ungrateful youth had been with him. But now
the lady Olivia coming forth from her house, the duke
could no longer attend to Antonio's story ; and he said,
"Here comes the countess : now Heaven walks on earth !
but for thee, fellow, thy words are madness. Three
months has this youth attended on me " : and then
he ordered Antonio to be taken aside . But Orsino's
heavenly countess soon gave the duke cause to accuse
Cesario as much of ingratitude as Antonio had done, for
all the words he could hear Olivia speak were words of
kindness to Cesario : and when he found his page had
obtained this high place in Olivia's favor, he threatened
him with all the terrors of his just revenge ; and as he
was going to depart, he called Viola to follow him, saying,
" Come, boy, with me. My thoughts are ripe for mis-
chief." Though it seemed in his jealous rage he was
going to doom Viola to instant death, yet her love made
her no longer a coward, and she said she would most joy-
fully suffer death to give her master ease. But Olivia
would not so lose her husband, and she cried, " Where
goes my Cesario ? " Viola replied, " After him I love
more than my life." Olivia, however, prevented their
departure by loudly proclaiming that Cesario was her
husband, and sent for the priest, who declared that not
two hours had passed since he had married the lady Olivia
to this young man. In vain Viola protested she was not
married to Olivia ; the evidence of that lady and the
priest made Orsino believe that his page had robbed him
of the treasure he prized above his life . But thinking
that it was past recall, he was bidding farewell to his
216 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

faithless mistress, and the young dissembler, her husband,

as he called Viola, warning her never to come in his sight
again, when (as it seemed to them) a miracle appeared !
for another Cesario entered, and addressed Olivia as his
wife . This new Cesario was Sebastian , the real husband
of Olivia ; and when their wonder had a little ceased at
seeing two persons with the same face, the same voice ,
and the same habit, the brother and sister began to ques-
tion each other ; for Viola could scarce be persuaded that
her brother was living, and Sebastian knew not how to
account for the sister he supposed drowned being found
in the habit of a young man . But Viola presently ac-
knowledged that she was indeed Viola, and his sister,
under that disguise .
When all the errors were cleared up which the extreme
likeness between this twin brother and sister had occa-
sioned , they laughed at the lady Olivia for the pleasant
mistake she had made in falling in love with a woman ;
and Olivia showed no dislike to her exchange , when she
found she had wedded the brother instead of the sister .
The hopes of Orsino were forever at an end by this
marriage of Olivia, and with his hopes, all his fruitless love
seemed to vanish away, and all his thoughts were fixed on
the event of his favorite , young Cesario, being changed
into a fair lady. He viewed Viola with great attention,
and he remembered how very handsome he had always
thought Cesario was, and he concluded she would look very
beautiful in a woman's attire ; and then he remembered
how often she had said she loved him, which at the time
seemed only the dutiful expressions of a faithful page ;
but now he guessed that something more was meant, for
many of her pretty sayings, which were like riddles to him,
came now into his mind, and he no sooner remembered all
 TWELFTH NIGHT. 217

these things than he resolved to make Viola his wife ; and

he said to her (he still could not help calling her Cesario
and boy), " Boy, you have said to me a thousand times
that you should never love a woman like to me , and for
the faithful service you have done for me so much beneath
your soft and tender breeding, and since you have called
me master so long, you shall now be your master's mistress ,
and Orsino's true duchess."
Olivia, perceiving Orsino was making over that heart,
which she had so ungraciously rejected, to Viola, invited
them to enter her house, and offered the assistance of the
good priest, who had married her to Sebastian in the morn-
ing, to perform the same ceremony in the remaining part
of the day for Orsino and Viola . Thus the twin brother
and sister were both wedded on the same day : the storm
and shipwreck, which had separated them, being the means
of bringing to pass their high and mighty fortunes. Viola
was the wife of Orsino, the duke of Illyria, and Sebas-
tian the husband of the rich and noble countess, the lady
Olivia.
 218 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

TIMON OF ATHENS .

IMON, a lord of Athens, in the enjoyment of a princely

TIMON, a
fortune, affected a humor of liberality which knew no
limits . His almost infinite wealth could not flow in so fast,
but he poured it out faster upon all sorts and degrees of
people . Not the poor only tasted of his bounty, but great
lords did not disdain to rank themselves among his de-
pendants and followers. His table was resorted to by all
the luxurious feasters, and his house was open to all
comers and goers at Athens. His large wealth combined
with his free and prodigal nature to subdue all hearts to
his love ; men of all minds and dispositions tendered their
services to lord Timon, from the glass-faced flatterer,
whose face reflects as in a mirror the present humor of his
patron, to the rough and unbending cynic, who, affecting
a contempt of men's persons, and an indifference to worldly
things, yet could not stand out against the gracious man-
ners and munificent soul of lord Timon , but would come
(against his nature) to partake of his royal entertainments,
and return most rich in his own estimation if he had
received a nod or a salutation from Timon.
If a poet had composed a work which wanted a recom-
mendatory introduction to the world, he had no more to
'do but to dedicate it to lord Timon, and the poem was
sure of sale , besides a present purse from the patron ,
and daily access to his house and table. If a painter had a
picture to dispose of, he had only to take it to lord Timon,
 TIMON OF ATHENS . 219

and pretend to consult his taste as to the merits of it ;

nothing more was wanting to persuade the liberal-hearted
lord to buy it. If a jeweller had a stone of price, or a
mercer rich costly stuffs, which for their costliness lay
upon his hands, lord Timon's house was a ready mart
always open, where they might get off their wares or their
jewelry at any price, and the good-natured lord would
thank them into the bargain, as if they had done him a
piece of courtesy in letting him have the refusal of such
precious commodities. So that by this means his house
was thronged with superfluous purchases, of no use but to
swell uneasy and ostentatious pomp ; and his person was
still more inconveniently beset with a crowd of these idle
visitors, lying poets , painters, sharking tradesmen , lords ,
ladies , needy courtiers, and expectants, who continually
filled his lobbies, raining their fulsome flatteries in whispers
in his ears, sacrificing to him with adulation as to a god,
making sacred the very stirrup by which he mounted his
horse, and seeming as though they drank the free air but
through his permission and bounty.
Some of these daily dependants were young men of birth,
who (their means not answering to their extravagance)
had been put in prison by creditors , and redeemed thence
by lord Timon ; these young prodigals thenceforward
fastened upon his lordship, as if by common sympathy
he were necessarily endeared to all such spendthrifts and
loose livers, who, not being able to follow him in his wealth ,
found it easier to copy him in prodigality and copious
spending of what was not their own . One of these flesh-
flies was Ventidius, for whose debts, unjustly contracted ,
Timon but lately had paid down the sum of five talents .
But among this confluence, this great flood of visitors ,
none were more conspicuous than the makers of presents
220 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

and givers of gifts. It was fortunate for these men if

Timon took a fancy to a dog or a horse, or any piece of
cheap furniture which was theirs . The thing so praised,
whatever it was, was sure to be sent the next morning
with the compliments of the giver for lord Timon's accept-
ance, and apologies for the unworthiness of the gift ; and
this dog or horse, or whatever it might be, did not fail to
produce from Timon's bounty, who would not be outdone
in gifts, perhaps twenty dogs or horses, certainly presents
of far richer worth, as these pretended donors knew well
enough, and that their false presents were but the putting
out of so much money at large and speedy interest . In
this way lord Lucius had lately sent to Timon a present
of four milk-white horses trapped in silver, which this
cunning lord had observed Timon upon some occasion to
commend ; and another lord , Lucullus, had bestowed upon
him in the same pretended way of free gift a brace of grey-
hounds, whose make and fleetness Timon had been heard
to admire ; these presents the easy-hearted lord accepted
without suspicion of the dishonest views of the presenters ;
and the givers of course were rewarded with some rich
return, a diamond or some jewel of twenty times the value
of their false and mercenary donation .
Sometimes these creatures would go to work in a more
direct way, and with gross and palpable artifice, which yet
the credulous Timon was too blind to see, would affect to
admire and praise something that Timon possessed, a bar-
gain that he had bought, or some late purchase, which was
sure to draw from this yielding and soft-hearted lord a gift
of the thing commended, for no service in the world done
for it but the easy expense of a little cheap and obvious
flattery. In this way Timon but the other day had given
to one of these mean lords the bay courser which he
 TIMON OF ATHENS . 221

himself rode upon , because his lordship had been pleased

to say that it was a handsome beast and went well ; and
Timon knew that no man ever justly praised what he did
not wish to possess . For lord Timon weighed his friends'
affection with his own, and so fond was he of bestowing,
that he could have dealt kingdoms to these supposed
friends, and never have been weary.
Not that Timon's wealth all went to enrich these wicked
flatterers ; he could do noble and praiseworthy actions ;
and when a servant of his once loved the daughter of a
rich Athenian, but could not hope to obtain her by reason
that in wealth and rank the maid was so far above him ,
lord Timon freely bestowed upon his servant three Athen-
ian talents, to make his fortune equal with the dowry
which the father of the young maid demanded of him who
should be her husband. But for the most part, knaves
and parasites had the command of his fortune, false friends
whom he did not know to be such, but, because they
flocked around his person, he thought they must needs
love him ; and because they smiled and flattered him, he
thought surely that his conduct was approved by all the
wise and good. And when he was feasting in the midst
of all these flatterers and mock friends, when they were
eating him up, and draining his fortunes dry with large
draughts of richest wines drunk to his health and pros-
perity, he could not perceive the difference of a friend from
a flatterer, but to his deluded eyes (made proud with the
sight) it seemed a precious comfort to have so many like
brothers commanding one another's fortunes (though it
was his own fortune which paid all the costs ) , and with
joy they would run over at the spectacle of such, as it
appeared to him, truly festive and fraternal meeting.
But while he thus outwent the very heart of kindness,
222 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

and poured out his bounty, as if Plutus, the god of gold,

had been but his steward ; while thus he proceeded with-
out care or stop, so senseless of expense that he would
neither inquire how he could maintain it, nor cease his
wild flow of riot ; his riches, which were not infinite, must
needs melt away before a prodigality which knew no
limits. But who should tell him so ? his flatterers ? they
had an interest in shutting his eyes. In vain did his hon-
est steward Flavius try to represent to him his condition ,
laying his accounts before him, begging of him, praying of
him, with an importunity that on any other occasion would
have been unmannerly in a servant, beseeching him with
tears to look into the state of his affairs. Timon would
still put him off, and turn the discourse to something else ;
for nothing is so deaf to remonstrance as riches turned to
poverty, nothing is so unwilling to believe its situation,
nothing so incredulous to its own true state, and hard to
give credit to a reverse. Often had this good steward,
this honest creature, when all the rooms of Timon's great
house have been choked up with riotous feeders at his
master's cost, when the floors have wept with drunken
spilling of wine, and every apartment has blazed with
lights and resounded with music and feasting, often had
he retired by himself to some solitary spot, and wept faster
than the wine ran from the wasteful casks within, to see
the mad bounty of his lord, and to think, when the means
were gone which brought him praises from all sorts of
people, how quickly the breath would be gone of which
the praise was made ; praises won in feasting would be
lost in fasting, and at one cloud of winter-showers these
flies would disappear.
But now the time was come that Timon could shut his
ears no longer to the representations of this faithful stew-
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 223

ard. Money must be had ; and when he ordered Flavius

to sell some of his land for that purpose, Flavius informed
him, what he had in vain endeavored at several times
before to make him listen to , that most of his land was
already sold or forfeited , and that all he possessed at pres-
ent was not enough to pay the one-half of what he owed.
Struck with wonder at this representation, Timon hastily
replied, " My lands extend from Athens to Lacedæmon."
"O my good lord, " said Flavius, " the world is but a
world, and has bounds ; were it all yours to give it in a
breath, how quickly were it gone ! "
Timon consoled himself that no villanous bounty had
yet come from him, that if he had given his wealth away
unwisely, it had not been bestowed to feed his vices, but
to cherish his friends ; and he bade the kind-hearted stew-
ard (who was weeping) to take comfort in the assurance
that his master could never lack means, while he had so
many noble friends ; and this infatuated lord persuaded
himself that he had nothing to do but to send and borrow,
to use every man's fortune (that had ever tasted his
bounty) in this extremity, as freely as his own . Then
with a cheerful look, as if confident of the trial, he sev-
erally despatched messengers to lord Lucius, to lords
Lucullus and Sempronius, men upon whom he had lav-
ished his gifts in past times without measure or modera-
tion ; and to Ventidius, whom he had lately released out
of prison by paying his debts, and who, by the death of
his father, was now come into the possession of an ample
fortune, and well enabled to requite Timon's courtesy : to
request of Ventidius the return of those five talents which
he had paid for him, and of each of those noble lords the
loan of fifty talents ; nothing doubting that their gratitude
would supply his wants (if he needed it) to the amount
of five hundred times fifty talents.
224 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Lucullus was the first applied to. This mean lord had
been dreaming over night of a silver basin and cup, and
when Timon's servant was announced, his sordid mind
suggested to him that this was surely a making out of his
dream, and that Timon had sent him such a present : but
when he understood the truth of the matter, and that
Timon wanted money, the quality of his faint and watery
friendship showed itself, for with many protestations he
vowed to the servant that he had long foreseen the ruin
of his master's affairs, and many a time had he come to
dinner to tell him of it, and had come again to supper to
try to persuade him to spend less, but he would take no
counsel nor warning by his coming : and true it was that
he had been a constant attender (as he said) at Timon's
feasts, as he had in greater things tasted his bounty ; but
that he ever came with that intent, or gave good counsel
or reproof to Timon, was a base unworthy lie, which he
suitably followed up with meanly offering the servant a
bribe, to go home to his master and tell him that he had
not found Lucullus at home.
As little success had the messenger who was sent to
lord Lucius . This lying lord, who was full of Timon's
meat, and enriched almost to bursting with Timon's costly
presents, when he found the wind changed, and the foun-
tain of so much bounty suddenly stopped , at first could
hardly believe it ; but on its being confirmed , he affected
great regret that he should not have it in his power to
serve lord Timon, for anfortunately (which was a base
falsehood) he had made a great purchase the day before,
which had quite disfurnished him of the means at present,
the more beast he, he called himself, to put it out of his
power to serve so good a friend ; and he counted it one of
his greatest afflictions that his ability should fail him to
pleasure such an honorable gentleman.
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 225

Who can call any man friend that dips in the same dish
with him ? just of this metal is every flatterer. In the
recollection of everybody Timon had been a father to this
Lucius, had kept up his credit with his purse ; Timon's
money had gone to pay the wages of his servants, to pay
the hire of the laborers who had sweat to build the fine
houses which Lucius's pride had made necessary to him :
yet, oh ! the monster which man makes himself when he
proves ungrateful ! this Lucius now denied to Timon a
sum, which, in respect of what Timon had bestowed on
him, was less than charitable men afford to beggars.
Sempronius, and every one of these mercenary lords to
whom Timon applied in their turn, returned the same
evasive answer or direct denial ; even Ventidius, the
redeemed and now rich Ventidius, refused to assist him
with the loan of those five talents which Timon had not
lent but generously given him in his distress.
Now was Timon as much avoided in his poverty as he
had been courted and resorted to in his riches . Now the
same tongues which had been loudest in his praises ,
extolling him as bountiful, liberal , and open-handed , were
not ashamed to censure that very bounty as folly, that
liberality as profuseness, though it had shown itself folly
in nothing so truly as in the selection of such unworthy
creatures as themselves for its objects. Now was Timon's
princely mansion forsaken, and become a shunned and
hated place , a place for men to pass by, not a place, as
formerly, where every passenger must stop and taste of
his wine and good cheer ; now, instead of being thronged
with feasting and tumultuous guests, it was beset with
impatient and clamorous crediters, usurers , extortioners ,
fierce and intolerable in their demands, pleading bonds,
interest, mortgages ; iron-hearted men that would take no
226 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

denial nor putting off, that Timon's house was now his
jail, which he could not pass, nor go in nor out for them ;
one demanding his due of fifty talents, another bringing
in a bill of five thousand crowns, which if he would tell
out his blood by drops, and pay them so, he had not
enough in his body to discharge, drop by drop .
In this desperate and irremediable state (as it seemed)
of his affairs, the eyes of all men were suddenly surprised
at a new and incredible lustre which this setting sun put
forth. Once more lord Timon proclaimed a feast, to
which he invited his accustomed guests, lords, ladies, all
that was great or fashionable in Athens . Lords Lucius
and Lucullus came, Ventidius , Sempronius, and the rest .
Who more sorry now than these fawning wretches, when
they found (as they thought) that lord Timon's poverty
was all pretence, and had been only put on to make trial
of their loves, to think that they should not have seen
through the artifice at the time, and have had the cheap
credit of obliging his lordship ? yet who more glad to find
the fountain of that noble bounty, which they had thought
dried up, still fresh and running ? They came dissem-
bling, protesting, expressing deepest sorrow and shame,
that when his lordship sent to them, they should have
been so unfortunate as to want the present means to
oblige so honorable a friend. But Timon begged them
not to give such trifles a thought, for he had altogether
forgotten it. And these base fawning lords, though they
had denied him money in his adversity, yet could not
refuse their presence at this new blaze of his returning
prosperity . For the swallow follows not summer more
willingly than men of these dispositions follow the good
fortunes of the great, nor more willingly leaves winter
than these shrink from the first appearance of a reverse ;
such summer birds are men .
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 227

But now with music and state the banquet of smoking

dishes was served up ; and when the guests had a little
done admiring whence the bankrupt Timon could find
means to furnish so costly a feast, some doubting whether
the scene which they saw was real, as scarce trusting their
own eyes ; at a signal given, the dishes were uncovered ,
and Timon's drift appeared : instead of those varieties and
far-fetched dainties which they expected, that Timon's
epicurean table in past times had so liberally presented ,
now appeared under the covers of these dishes a prepara-
tion more suitable to Timon's poverty, nothing but a little
smoke and lukewarm water, fit feast for this knot of
mouth-friends, whose professions were indeed smoke , and
their hearts lukewarm and slippery as the water with
which Timon welcomed his astonished guests , bidding
them, " Uncover, dogs, and lap " ; and before they could
recover their surprise , sprinkling it in their faces, that
they might have enough, and throwing dishes and all after
them , who now ran huddling out, lords, ladies, with their
caps snatched up in haste, a splendid confusion , Timon
pursuing them , still calling them what they were , " smooth
smiling parasites, destroyers under the mask of courtesy ,
affable wolves, meek bears, fools of fortune, feast friends,
time-flies." They, crowding out to avoid him, left the
house more willingly than they had entered it ; some los-
ing their gowns and caps, and some their jewels in the
hurry, all glad to escape out of the presence of such a mad
lord, and from the ridicule of his mock banquet.
This was the last feast which ever Timon made, and in
it he took farewell of Athens and the society of men ; for,
after that, he betook himself to the woods, turning his
back upon the hated city and upon all mankind, wishing
the walls of that detestable city might sink, and the
228 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

houses fall upon their owners, wishing all plagues which

infest humanity, war, outrage, poverty, diseases , might
fasten upon its inhabitants , praying the just gods to con-
found all Athenians, both young and old, high and low ;
so wishing, he went to the woods, where he said he should
find the unkindest beast much kinder than mankind. He
stripped himself naked , that he might retain no fashion
of a man, and dug a cave to live in, and lived solitary in
the manner of a beast, eating the wild roots, and drinking
water, flying from the face of his kind , and choosing
rather to herd with wild beasts, as more harmless and
friendly than man.
What a change from lord Timon the rich, lord Timon
the delight of mankind, to Timon the naked, Timon the
man-hater ! Where were his flatterers now ? Where
were his attendants and retinue ? Would the bleak air,
that boisterous servitor, be his chamberlain, to put his
shirt on warm ? Would those stiff trees that had outlived
the eagle, turn young and airy pages to him, to skip on
his errands when he bade them ? Would the cold brook,
when it was iced with winter, administer to him his warm
broths and caudles when sick of an overnight's surfeit ?
Or would the creatures that lived in those wild woods
come and lick his hand and flatter him ?
Here on a day, when he was digging for roots, his poor
sustenance, his spade struck against something heavy,
which proved to be gold , a great heap which some miser
had probably buried in a time of alarm, thinking to have
come again, and taken it from its prison, but died before
the opportunity had arrived, without making any man
privy to the concealment ; so it lay, doing neither good
nor harm , in the bowels of the earth, its mother, as if it
had never come from thence, till the accidental striking
 TIMON OF ATHENS . 229

of Timon's spade against it once more brought it to

light.
Here was a mass of treasure which, if Timon had
retained his old mind, was enough to have purchased him
friends and flatterers again ; but Timon was sick of the
false world, and the sight of gold was poisonous to his
eyes; and he would have restored it to the earth, but that,
thinking of the infinite calamities which by means of gold
happen to mankind , how the lucre of it causes robberies ,
oppression, injustice, briberies , violence, and murder,
among men, he had a pleasure in imagining (such a
rooted hatred did he bear to his species) that out of this
heap, which in digging he had discovered, might arise
some mischief to plague mankind. And some soldiers
passing through the woods near to his cave at that instant,
which proved to be a part of the troops of the Athenian
captain Alcibiades, who upon some disgust taken against
the senators of Athens (the Athenians were ever noted to
be a thankless and ungrateful people, giving disgust to
their generals and best friends) , was marching at the head
of the same triumphant army which he had formerly
headed in their defence, to war against them ; Timon , who
liked their business well, bestowed upon their captain the
gold to pay his soldiers , requiring no other service from
him, than that he should with his conquering army lay
Athens level with the ground, and burn , slay, kill all her
inhabitants ; not sparing the old men for their white
beards, for (he said) they were usurers, nor the young
children for their seeming innocent smiles , for those (he
said ) would live, if they grew up , to be traitors ; but to
steel his eyes and ears against any sights or sounds that
might awaken compassion ; and not to let the cries of
virgins, babes, or mothers, hinder him from making one
230 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

universal massacre of the city, but to confound them all in

his conquest ; and when he had conquered, he prayed that
the gods would confound him also, the conqueror : so
thoroughly did Timon hate Athens, Athenians, and all
mankind.
While he lived in this forlorn state, leading a life more
brutal than human, he was suddenly surprised one day
with the appearance of a man standing in an admiring
posture at the door of his cave. It was Flavius, the
honest steward, whom love and zealous affection to his
master had led to seek him out at his wretched dwelling,
and to offer his services ; and the first sight of his master,
the once noble Timon , in that abject condition , naked as
he was born, living in the manner of a beast among
beasts, looking like his own sad ruins and a monument
of decay, so affected this good servant, that he stood
speechless, wrapped up in horror, and confounded . And
when he found utterance at last to his words, they were
so choked with tears, that Timon had much ado to know
him again , or to make out who it was that had come (so
contrary to the experience he had had of mankind) to
offer him service in extremity. And being in the form
and shape of a man, he suspected him for a traitor, and
his tears for false ; but the good servant by so many
tokens confirmed the truth of his fidelity, and made it
clear that nothing but love and zealous duty to his once
dear master had brought him there, that Timon was forced
to confess that the world contained one honest man ; yet,
being in the shape and form of a man, he could not look
upon his man's face without abhorrence, or hear words
uttered from his man's lips without loathing ; and this
singly honest man was forced to depart, because he was a
man, and because, with a heart more gentle and compas-
 TIMON OF ATHENS . 231

sionate than is usual to man, he bore man's detested form

and outward feature.
But greater visitants than a poor steward were about to
interrupt the savage quiet of Timon's solitude . For now
the day was come when the ungrateful lords of Athens
sorely repented the injustice which they had done to the
noble Timon. For Alcibiades, like an incensed wild boar,
was raging at the walls of their city, and with his hot siege
threatened to lay fair Athens in the dust. And now the
memory of lord Timon's former prowess and military con-
duct came fresh into their forgetful minds, for Timon had
been their general in past times, and a valiant and expert
soldier, who alone of all the Athenians was deemed able
to cope with a besieging army such as then threatened them,
or to drive back the furious approaches of Alcibiades .
A deputation of the senators was chosen in this emer-
gency to wait upon Timon. To him they come in their
extremity, to whom, when he was in extremity, they had
shown but small regard ; as if they presumed upon his
gratitude whom they had disobliged, and had derived a
claim to his courtesy from their own most discourteous
and unpiteous treatment.
Now they earnestly beseech him, implore him with tears,
to return and save that city, from which their ingratitude
had so lately driven him ; now they offer him riches, power,
dignities, satisfaction for past injuries, and public honors,
and the public love ; their persons , lives, and fortunes, to
be at his disposal, if he will but come back and save them.
But Timon the naked , Timon the man-hater, was no longer
lord Timon, the lord of bounty, the flower of valor, their
defence in war, their ornament in peace. If Alcibiades
killed his countrymen , Timon cared not. If he sacked fair
Athens, and slew her old men and her infants, Timon
232 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

would rejoice. So he told them ; and that there was not

a knife in the unruly camp which he did not prize above
the reverendest throat in Athens.
This was all the answer he vouchsafed to the weeping
disappointed senators ; only at parting he bade them com-
mend him to his countrymen, and tell them, that to ease
them of their griefs and anxieties, and to prevent the con-
sequences of fierce Alcibiades' wrath, there was yet a way
left, which he would teach them, for he had yet so much
affection left for his dear countrymen as to be willing to
do them a kindness before his death . These words a little
revived the senators , who hoped that his kindness for their
city was returning. Then Timon told them that he had
a tree, which grew near his cave, which he should shortly
have occasion to cut down, and he invited all his friends
in Athens, high or low, of what degree soever, who wished
to shun affliction, to come and take a taste of his tree
before he cut it down ; meaning, that they might come
and hang themselves on it, and escape affliction that way.
And this was the last courtesy, of all his noble bounties,
which Timon showed to mankind , and this the last sight
of him which his countrymen had : for not many days after,
a poor soldier, passing by the sea-beach, which was at a
little distance from the woods which Timon frequented ,
found a tomb on the verge of the sea, with an inscription
upon it, purporting that it was the grave of Timon the
man-hater, who " While he lived, did hate all living men,
and dying wished a plague might consume all caitiffs
left ! "
Whether he finished his life by violence, or whether
mere distaste of life and the loathing he had for mankind
brought Timon to his conclusion , was not clear, yet all
men admired the fitness of his epitaph , and the consistency
 TIMON OF ATHENS. 233

of his end ; dying, as he had lived , a hater of mankind :

and some there were who fancied a conceit in the very
choice which he had made of the sea-beach for his place
of burial, where the vast sea might weep forever upon his
grave, as in contempt of the transient and shallow tears
of hypocritical and deceitful mankind.
234 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

ROMEO AND JULIET.

HE two chief families in Verona were the rich Capu-

THE
lets and the Montagues. There had been an old
quarrel between these families, which was grown to such
a height, and so deadly was the enmity between them,
that it extended to the remotest kindred, to the followers
and retainers of both sides , insomuch that a servant of the
house of Montague could not meet a servant of the house
of Capulet, nor a Capulet encounter with a Montague by
chance, but fierce words and sometimes bloodshed ensued ;
and frequent were the brawls from such accidental meet-
ings, which disturbed the happy quiet of Verona's streets.
Old lord Capulet made a great supper, to which many
fair ladies and many noble guests were invited . All the
admired beauties of Verona were present, and all comers
were made welcome if they were not of the house of Mon-
tague . At this feast of Capulets, Rosaline, beloved of
Romeo, son to the old lord Montague, was present ; and
though it was dangerous for a Montague to be seen in this
assembly, yet Benvolio, a friend of Romeo, persuaded the
young lord to go to this assembly in the disguise of a
mask, that he might see his Rosaline, and seeing her, com-
pare her with some choice beauties of Verona, who (he
said ) would make him think his swan a crow. Romeo
had small faith in Benvolio's words ; nevertheless, for the
love of Rosaline, he was persuaded to go . For Romeo
was a sincere and passionate lover, and one that lost his
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 235

sleep for love, and fled society to be alone, thinking on

Rosaline, who disdained him , and never requited his love
with the least show of courtesy or affection ; and Benvolio
wished to cure his friend of this love by showing him
diversity of ladies and company. To this feast of Capulets
then young Romeo with Benvolio and their friend Mer-
cutio went masked. Old Capulet bid them welcome, and
told them that ladies who had their toes unplagued with
corns would dance with them . And the old man was
light-hearted and merry, and said that he had worn a mask
when he was young, and could have told a whispering tale
in a fair lady's ear. And they fell to dancing, and Romeo
was suddenly struck with the exceeding beauty of a lady
who danced there, who seemed to him to teach the torches
to burn bright, and her beauty to show by night like a
rich jewel worn by a blackamoor ; beauty too rich for use,
too dear for earth ! like a snowy dove trooping with crows
(he said) , so richly did her beauty and perfections shine
above the ladies her companions. While he uttered these
praises, he was overheard by Tybalt, a nephew of lord
Capulet, who knew him by his voice to be Romeo. And
this Tybalt, being of a fiery and passionate temper, could
not endure that a Montague should come under cover of
a mask, to fleer and scorn (as he said) at their solemnities.
And he stormed and raged exceedingly, and would have
struck young Romeo dead . But his uncle, the old lord
Capulet, would not suffer him to do any injury at that
time, both out of respect to his guests, and because Romeo
had borne himself like a gentleman, and all tongues in
Verona bragged of him to be a virtuous and well-governed
youth. Tybalt, forced to be patient against his will,
restrained himself, but swore that this vile Montague
should at another time dearly pay for his intrusion.
236 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

The dancing being done, Romeo watched the place

where the lady stood ; and under favor of his masking
habit, which might seem to excuse in part the liberty, he
presumed in the gentlest manner to take her by the hand,
calling it a shrine , which if he profaned by touching it, he
was a blushing pilgrim, and would kiss it for atonement.
" Good pilgrim," answered the lady, " your devotion
shows by far too mannerly and too courtly : saints have
hands, which pilgrims may touch, but kiss not." — " Have
not saints lips, and pilgrims too ? " said Romeo . " Ay,"
said the lady, " lips which they must use in prayer."
"O then, my dear saint," said Romeo, " hear my prayer,,
and grant it, lest I despair." In such like allusions and
loving conceits they were engaged, when the lady was
called away to her mother. And Romeo inquiring who
her mother was, discovered that the lady whose peerless
beauty he was so much struck with, was young Juliet,
daughter and heir to the lord Capulet, the great enemy of
the Montagues ; and that he had unknowingly engaged
his heart to his foe. This troubled him, but it could not
dissuade him from loving. As little rest had Juliet, when
she found that the gentleman that she had been talking
with was Romeo and a Montague, for she had been sud-
denly smit with the same hasty and inconsiderate passion
for Romeo, which he had conceived for her ; and a pro-
digious birth of love it seemed to her, that she must love
her enemy, and that her affections should settle there,
where family considerations should induce her chiefly to
hate.
It being midnight, Romeo with his companions departed ;
but they soon missed him, for, unable to stay away from
the house where he had left his heart, he leaped the wall
of an orchard which was at the back of Juliet's house.
 ROMEO AND JULIET . 237

Here he had not been long, ruminating on his new love,

when Juliet appeared above at a window, through which
her exceeding beauty seemed to break like the light of the
sun in the east ; and the moon, which shone in the orchard
with a faint light, appeared to Romeo as if sick and pale
with grief at the superior lustre of this new sun . And
she, leaning her cheek upon her hand, he passionately
wished himself a glove upon that hand, that he might
touch her cheek. She all this while thinking herself
alone, fetched a deep sigh, and exclaimed, " Ah me ! "
Romeo, enraptured to hear her speak, said softly, and
unheard by her, " O speak again, bright angel, for such
you appear, being over my head, like a winged messenger
from heaven whom mortals fall back to gaze upon ." She ,
unconscious of being overheard , and full of the new pas-
sion which that night's adventure had given birth to,
called upon her lover by name (whom she supposed
absent) : " O Romeo, Romeo ! " said she, " wherefore art
thou Romeo ? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name, for
my sake ; or if thou wilt not, be but my sworn love, and
99
I no longer will be a Capulet.'
Romeo, having this encouragement, would fain have
spoken, but he was desirous of hearing more ; and the
lady continued her passionate discourse with herself (as
she thought) still chiding Romeo for being Romeo and a
Montague, and wishing him some other name, or that he
would put away that hated name, and for that name which
was no part of himself, he should take all herself. At this
loving word Romeo could no longer refrain , but taking
up the dialogue as if her words had been addressed to him
personally, and not merely in fancy, he bade her call him
Love, or by whatever other name she pleased, for he was
no longer Romeo, if that name was displeasing to her.
238 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Juliet, alarmed to hear a man's voice in the garden, did

not at first know who it was, that by favor of the night
and darkness had thus stumbled upon the discovery of her
secret ; but when he spoke again, though her ears had not
yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's uttering, yet
so nice is a lover's hearing , that she immediately knew him
to be young Romeo, and she expostulated with him on the
danger to which he had exposed himself by climbing the
orchard walls, for if any of her kinsmen should find him
there, it would be death to him , being a Montague.
"Alack," said Romeo, " there is more peril in your eye,
than in twenty of their swords. Do you but look kind
upon me, lady, and I am proof against their enmity.
Better my life should be ended by their hate, than that
hated life should be prolonged, to live without your love."
"How came you into this place," said Juliet, " and
by whose direction ? " - " Love directed me," answered
Romeo : " I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far apart from
me, as that vast shore which is washed with the farthest
sea, I should venture for such merchandise." A crimson
blush came over Juliet's face, yet unseen by Romeo by
reason of the night, when she reflected upon the discovery
which she had made, yet not meaning to make it, of her
love to Romeo . She would fain have recalled her words,
but that was impossible : fain would she have stood upon
form , and have kept her lover at a distance, as the custom
of discreet ladies is, to frown and be perverse, and give
their suitors harsh denials at first ; to stand off, and affect
a coyness or indifference, where they most love, that their
lovers may not think them too lightly or too easily won ;
for the difficulty of attainment increases the value of the
object. But there was no room in her case for denials, or
puttings off, or any of the customary arts of delay and
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 239

protracted courtship. Romeo had heard from her own

tongue, when she did not dream that he was near her, a
confession of her love. So with an honest frankness, which
the novelty of her situation excused, she confirmed the
truth of what he had before heard, and addressing him by
the name of fair Montague (love can sweeten a sour name) ,
she begged him not to impute her easy yielding to levity or
an unworthy mind , but that he must lay the fault of it ( if
it were a fault) upon the accident of the night which had
so strangely discovered her thoughts . And she added,
that though her behavior to him might not be sufficiently
prudent, measured by the custom of her sex, yet that she
would prove more true than many whose prudence was
dissembling, and their modesty artificial cunning.
Romeo was beginning to call the heavens to witness,
that nothing was farther from his thoughts than to impute
a shadow of dishonor to such an honored lady, when she
stopped him, begging him not to swear ; for although she
joyed in him, yet she had no joy of that night's contract :
it was too rash, too unadvised, too sudden . But he being
urgent with her to exchange a vow of love with him that
night, she said that she already had given him hers before
he requested it ; meaning, when he overheard her confes-
sion ; but she would retract what she then bestowed, for
the pleasure of giving it again, for her bounty was as
infinite as the sea, and her love as deep. From this loving
conference she was called away by her nurse, who slept
with her, and thought it time for her to be in bed, for it
was near to daybreak ; but hastily returning, she said three
or four words more to Romeo, the purport of which was,
that if his love was indeed honorable, and his purpose
marriage, she would send a messenger to him to-morrow,
to appoint a time for their marriage, when she would lay
240 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

all her fortunes at his feet, and follow him as her lord
through the world. While they were settling this point,
Juliet was repeatedly called for by her nurse, and went in
and returned, and went and returned again, for she seemed
as jealous of Romeo going from her, as a young girl of her
bird, which she will let hop a little from her hand, and
pluck it back with a silken thread ; and Romeo was as
loath to part as she ; for the sweetest music to lovers is the
sound of each other's tongues at night. But at last they
parted, wishing mutually sweet sleep and rest for that
night.
The day was breaking when they parted, and Romeo,
who was too full of thoughts of his mistress and that
blessed meeting to allow him to sleep, instead of going
home, bent his course to a monastery hard by, to find
friar Lawrence . The good friar was already up at his
devotions, but seeing young Romeo abroad so early, he
conjectured rightly that he had not been abed that night,
but that some distemper of youthful affection had kept
him waking. He was right in imputing the cause of
Romeo's wakefulness to love, but he made a wrong guess
at the object, for he thought that his love for Rosaline
had kept him waking. But when Romeo revealed his
new passion for Juliet, and requested the assistance of the
friar to marry them that day, the holy man lifted up his
eyes and hands in a sort of wonder at the sudden change
in Romeo's affections, for he had been privy to all Romeo's
love for Rosaline, and his many complaints of her disdain :
and he said, that young men's love lay not truly in their
hearts, but in their eyes. But Romeo replying, that he
himself had often chidden him for doting on Rosaline, who
could not love him again, whereas Juliet both loved and
was beloved by him, the friar assented in some measure to
 ROMEO AND JULIET . 241

his reasons ; and thinking that a matrimonial alliance

between young Juliet and Romeo might happily be the
means of making up the long breach between the Capulets
and the Montagues ; which no one more lamented than this
good friar, who was a friend to both the families and had
often interposed his mediation to make up the quarrel
without effect ; partly moved by policy, and partly by his
fondness for young Romeo, to whom he could deny noth-
ing, the old man consented to join their hands in marriage .
Now was Romeo blessed indeed , and Juliet, who knew
his intent from a messenger which she had despatched
according to promise, did not fail to be early at the cell of
friar Lawrence, where their hands were joined in holy
marriage ; the good friar praying the heavens to smile
upon that act, and in the union of this young Montague
and young Capulet to bury the old strife and long dissen-
sions of their families .
The ceremony being over, Juliet hastened home, where
she staid impatient for the coming of night, at which time
Romeo promised to come and meet her in the orchard,
where they had met the night before ; and the time be-
tween seemed as tedious to her, as the night before some
great festival seems to an impatient child, that has got
new finery which it may not put on till the morning.
That same day, about noon , Romeo's friends , Benvolio
and Mercutio, walking through the streets of Verona, were
met by a party of the Capulets with the impetuous Tybalt
at their head. This was the same angry Tybalt who
would have fought with Romeo at old lord Capulet's feast .
He, seeing Mercutio, accused him bluntly of associating
with Romeo, a Montague. Mercutio, who had as much .
fire and youthful blood in him as Tybalt, replied to this
accusation with some sharpness ; and in spite of all Ben-
242 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

volio could say to moderate their wrath, a quarrel was

beginning, when Romeo himself passing that way, the
fierce Tybalt turned from Mercutio to Romeo, and gave
him the disgraceful appellation of villain. Romeo wished
to avoid a quarrel with Tybalt above all men, because he
was the kinsman of Juliet, and much beloved by her ;
besides, this young Montague had never thoroughly
entered into the family quarrel, being by nature wise
and gentle, and the name of a Capulet, which was his
dear lady's name, was now rather a charm to allay resent-
ment, than a watchword to excite fury. So he tried to
reason with Tybalt, whom he saluted mildly by the name
of good Capulet, as if he, though a Montague, had some
secret pleasure in uttering that name : but Tybalt, who
hated all Montagues as he hated hell, would hear no
reason, but drew his weapon ; and Mercutio, who knew
not of Romeo's secret motive for desiring peace with
Tybalt, but looked upon his present forbearance as a sort
of calm dishonorable submission , with many disdainful
words provoked Tybalt to the prosecution of his first
quarrel with him ; and Tybalt and Mercutio fought, till
Mercutio fell, receiving his death's wound while Romeo
and Benvolio were vainly endeavoring to part the com-
batants. Mercutio being dead, Romeo kept his temper no
longer, but returned the scornful appellation of villain
which Tybalt had given him ; and they fought till Tybalt
was slain by Romeo . This deadly broil falling out in
the midst of Verona at noonday, the news of it quickly
brought a crowd of citizens to the spot, and among them
the old lords Capulet and Montague, with their wives ;
and soon after arrived the prince himself, who being
related to Mercutio, whom Tybalt had slain, and having
had the peace of his government often disturbed by these
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 243

brawls of Montagues and Capulets, came determined to

put the law in strictest force against those who should be
found to be offenders . Benvolio, who had been eyewit-
ness to the fray, was commanded by the prince to relate
the origin of it ; which he did, keeping as near the truth
as he could without injury to Romeo, softening and
excusing the part which his friends took in it. Lady
Capulet, whose extreme grief for the loss of her kinsman
Tybalt made her keep no bounds in her revenge, exhorted
the prince to do strict justice upon his murderer, and to
pay no attention to Benvolio's representation , who, being
Romeo's friend and a Montague, spoke partially. Thus
she pleaded against her new son-in-law, but she knew not
yet that he was her son-in-law and Juliet's husband. On
the other hand was to be seen lady Montague pleading for
her child's life, and arguing with some justice that Romeo
had done nothing worthy of punishment in taking the •
life of Tybalt, which was already forfeited to the law by
his having slain Mercutio. The prince, unmoved by the
passionate exclamations of these women, on a careful
examination of the facts, pronounced his sentence, and by
that sentence Romeo was banished from Verona.
Heavy news to young Juliet, who had been but a few
hours a bride, and now by this decree seemed everlast-
ingly divorced ! When the tidings reached her, she at
first gave way to rage against Romeo, who had slain her
dear cousin : she called him a beautiful tyrant, a fiend
angelical, a ravenous dove, a lamb with a wolf's nature,
a serpent-heart hid with a flowering face, and other like
contradictory names, which denoted the struggles in her
mind between her love and her resentment : but in the
end love got the mastery, and the tears which she shed for
grief that Romeo had slain her cousin, turned to drops of
 244 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

joy that her husband lived whom Tybalt would have

slain . Then came fresh tears, and they were altogether
of grief for Romeo's banishment. That word was more
terrible to her than the death of many Tybalts.
Romeo, after the fray, had taken refuge in friar Law-
rence's cell, where he was first made acquainted with the
prince's sentence, which seemed to him far more terrible
than death. To him it appeared there was no world out
of Verona's walls, no living out of the sight of Juliet.
Heaven was there where Juliet lived, and all beyond was
purgatory, torture, hell. The good friar would have
applied the consolation of philosophy to his griefs : but
this frantic young man would hear of none, but like a
madman he tore his hair, and threw himself all along upon
the ground, as he said, to take the measure of his grave.
From this unseemly state he was roused by a message
• from his dear lady, which a little revived him ; and then
the friar took the advantage to expostulate with him on
the unmanly weakness which he had shown. He had
slain Tybalt, but would he also slay himself, slay his dear
lady, who lived but in his life ? The noble form of man ,
he said, was but a shape of wax, when it wanted the
courage which should keep it firm. The law had been
lenient to him, that instead of death, which he had in-
curred, had pronounced by the prince's mouth only ban-
ishment. He had slain Tybalt, but Tybalt would have
slain him : there was a sort of happiness in that . Juliet
was alive, and (beyond all hope ) had become his dear
wife ; therein he was most happy. All these blessings, as
the friar made them out to be, did Romeo put from him
like a sullen misbehaved wench. And the friar bade him
beware, for such as despaired (he said) died miserable .
Then when Romeo was a little calmed, he counselled him
 ROMEO AND JULIET . 245

that he should go that night and secretly take his leave of

Juliet, and thence proceed straightways to Mantua, at
which place he should sojourn , till the friar found fit
occasion to publish his marriage, which might be a joyful
means of reconciling their families ; and then he did not
doubt but the prince would be moved to pardon him, and
he would return with twenty times more joy than he went
forth with grief. Romeo was convinced by these wise
counsels of the friar, and took his leave to go and seek his
lady, proposing to stay with her that night, and by day-
break pursue his journey alone to Mantua ; to which place
the good friar promised to send him letters from time to
time, acquainting him with the state of affairs at home.
That night Romeo passed with his dear wife, gaining
secret admission to her chamber, from the orchard in
which he had heard her confession of love the night
before . That had been a night of unmixed joy and rap-
ture ; but the pleasures of this night, and the delight
which these lovers took in each other's society, were sadly
allayed with the prospect of parting, and the fatal adven-
tures of the past day. The unwelcome daybreak seemed
to come too soon , and when Juliet heard the morning
song of the lark, she would have persuaded herself that it
was the nightingale, which sings by night ; but it was too
truly the lark which sang, and a discordant and unpleasing
note it seemed to her ; and the streaks of day in the east
too certainly pointed out that it was time for these lovers
to part. Romeo took his leave of his dear wife with a
heavy heart, promising to write to her from Mantua every
hour in the day ; and when he had descended from her
chamber window, as he stood below her on the ground, in
that sad foreboding state of mind in which she was, he
appeared to her eyes as one dead in the bottom of a tomb .
246 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Romeo's mind misgave him in like manner : but now he

was forced hastily to depart, for it was death for him to
be found within the walls of Verona after daybreak.
This was but the beginning of the tragedy of this pair
of star-crossed lovers. Romeo had not been gone many
days, before the old lord Capulet proposed a match for
Juliet. The husband he had chosen for her, not dreaming
that she was married already, was count Paris, a gallant,
young, and noble gentleman , no unworthy suitor to the
young Juliet, if she had never seen Romeo .
The terrified Juliet was in a sad perplexity at her
father's offer.She pleaded her youth unsuitable to mar-
riage, the recent death of Tybalt, which had left her
spirits too weak to meet a husband with any face of joy,
and how indecorous it would show for the family of the
Capulets to be celebrating a nuptial feast, when his
funeral solemnities were hardly over : she pleaded every
reason against the match, but the true one, namely, that
she was married already. But lord Capulet was deaf to
all her excuses, and in a peremptory manner ordered her
to get ready, for by the following Thursday she should be
married to Paris : and having found her a husband, rich ,
young, and noble, such as the proudest maid in Verona
might joyfully accept, he could not bear that out of an
affected coyness, as he construed her denial , she should
oppose obstacles to her own good fortune.
In this extremity Juliet applied to the friendly friar,
always her counsellor in distress, and he asking her if she
had resolution to undertake a desperate remedy, and she
answering that she would go into the grave alive rather
than marry Paris, her own dear husband living ; he
directed her to go home, and appear merry, and give her
consent to marry Paris, according to her father's desire,
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 247

and on the next night, which was the night before the
marriage, to drink off the contents of a phial which he then
gave her, the effect of which would be that for two and
forty hours after drinking it she should appear cold and
lifeless ; and when the bridegroom came to fetch her in
the morning, he would find her to appearance dead ;
that then she would be borne, as the manner in that
country was, uncovered on a bier, to be buried in the
family vault ; that if she could put off womanish fear, and
consent to this terrible trial, in forty-two hours after swal-
lowing the liquid (such was its certain operation ) she
would be sure to awake, as from a dream ; and before she
should awake, he would let her husband know their drift,
and he should come in the night, and bear her thence to
Mantua. Love, and the dread of marrying Paris, gave
young Juliet strength to undertake this horrible adven-
ture ; and she took the phial of the friar, promising to
observe his directions .
Going from the monastery, she met the young count
Paris, and modestly dissembling, promised to become his
bride. This was joyful news to the lord Capulet and his
wife. It seemed to put youth into the old man ; and
Juliet, who had displeased him exceedingly, by her refusal
of the count, was his darling again , now she promised to be
obedient. All things in the house were in a bustle against
the approaching nuptials . No cost was spared to prepare
such festival rejoicings as Verona had never before wit-
nessed.
On the Wednesday night Juliet drank off the potion .
She had many misgivings lest the friar, to avoid the blame
.
which might be imputed to him for marrying her to
Romeo, had given her poison ; but then he was always
known for a holy man : then lest she should awake before
248 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

the time that Romeo was to come for her ; whether the
terror of the place, a vault full of dead Capulet's bones ,
and where Tybalt, all bloody, lay festering in his shroud,
would not be enough to drive her distracted : again she
thought of all the stories she had heard of spirits haunting
the places where their bodies were bestowed . But then
her love for Romeo, and her aversion for Paris returned,
and she desperately swallowed the draught, and became
insensible .
When young Paris came early in the morning with
music to awaken his bride , instead of a living Juliet, her
chamber presented the dreary spectacle of a lifeless corse .
What death to his hopes ! What confusion then reigned
through the whole house ! Poor Paris lamenting his
bride, whom most detestable death had beguiled him of,
had divorced from him even before their hands were
joined . But still more piteous it was to hear the mourn-
ings of the old lord and lady Capulet, who having but this
one, one poor loving child to rejoice and solace in, cruel
death had snatched her from their sight, just as these
careful parents were on the point of seeing her advanced
(as they thought) by a promising and advantageous match .
Now all things that were ordained for the festival were
turned from their properties to do the office of a black
funeral. The wedding cheer served for a sad burial feast,
the bridal hymns were changed for sullen dirges, the
sprightly instruments to melancholy bells, and the flowers
that should have been strewed in the bride's path, now
served but to strew her corse. Now, instead of a priest to
marry her, a priest was needed to bury her ; and she was
borne to church indeed , not to augment the cheerful hopes
of the living, but to swell the dreary numbers of the dead.
Bad news, which always travels faster than good, now
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 249

brought the dismal story of his Juliet's death to Romeo,

at Mantua, before the messenger could arrive, who was
sent from friar Lawrence to appraise him that these were
mock funerals only, and but the shadow and representa-
tion of death, and that his dear lady lay in the tomb but
for a short while, expecting when Romeo would come to
release her from that dreary mansion . Just before, Romeo
had been unusually joyful and light-hearted . He had
dreamed in the night that he was dead (a strange dream,
that gave a dead man leave to think) , and that his lady
came and found him dead, and breathed such life with
kisses in his lips, that he revived, and was an emperor !
And now that a messenger came from Verona, he thought
surely it was to confirm some good news which his dreams
had presaged . But when the contrary to this flattering
vision appeared , and that it was his lady who was dead in
truth, whom he could not revive by any kisses, he ordered
horses to be got ready, for he determined that night to
visit Verona, and to see his lady in her tomb. And as
mischief is swift to enter into the thoughts of desperate
men, he called to mind a poor apothecary, whose shop in
Mantua he had lately passed, and from the beggarly
appearance of the man, who seemed famished, and the
wretched show in his shop of empty boxes ranged on
dirty shelves, and other tokens of extreme wretchedness,
he had said at the time (perhaps having some misgivings
that his own disastrous life might haply meet with a con-
clusion so desperate) , " If a man were to need poison ,
which by the law of Mantua it is death to sell , here lives
a poor wretch who would sell it him ." These words of
his now came into his mind, and he sought out the apothe-
cary, who after some pretended scruples, Romeo offering
him gold, which his poverty could not resist, sold him a
250 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

poison, which, if he swallowed, he told him, if he had the

strength of twenty men , would quickly despatch him .
With this poison he set out for Verona, to have a sight
of his dear lady in her tomb, meaning, when he had
satisfied his sight, to swallow the poison, and be buried
by her side . He reached Verona at midnight, and found
the churchyard, in the midst of which was situated the
ancient tomb of the Capulets. He had provided a light,
and a spade, and wrenching iron, and was proceeding to
break open the monument, when he was interrupted by
a voice , which by the name of vile Montague, bade him
desist from his unlawful business . It was the young
count Paris, who had come to the tomb of Juliet at that
unseasonable time of night, to strew flowers and to weep
over the grave of her that should have been his bride .
He knew not what an interest Romeo had in the dead,
but knowing him to be a Montague, and (as he supposed)
a sworn foe to all the Capulets, he judged that he was
come by night to do some villanous shame to the dead
bodies ; therefore in an angry tone he bade him desist ;
and as a criminal, condemned by the laws of Verona to
die if he were found within the walls of the city, he would
have apprehended him. Romeo urged Paris to leave him,
and warned him by the fate of Tybalt, who lay buried
there, not to provoke his anger, or draw down another sin
upon his head, by forcing him to kill him. But the count
in scorn refused his warning, and laid hands on him as a
felon , which Romeo resisting, they fought, and Paris fell .
When Romeo, by the help of a light, came to see who it
was that he had slain, that it was Paris, who (he learned
in his way from Mantua) should have married Juliet, he
took the dead youth by the hand, as one whom misfortune
had made a companion , and said that he would bury him
 ROMEO AND JULIET. 251

in a triumphal grave, meaning in Juliet's grave, which he

now opened : and there lay his lady, as one whom death
had no power upon to change a feature or complexion in
her matchless beauty ; or as if Death were amorous, and the
lean abhorred monster kept her there for his delight ; for
she lay yet fresh and blooming, as she had fallen to sleep
when she swallowed that benumbing potion ; and near her
lay Tybalt in his bloody shroud, whom Romeo seeing,
begged pardon of his lifeless corse, and for Juliet's sake
called him cousin, and said that he was about to do him
a favor by putting his enemy to death . Here Romeo took
his last leave of his lady's lips, kissing them ; and here he
shook the burden of his cross stars from his weary body,
swallowing that poison which the apothecary had sold him,
whose operation was fatal and real, not like that dissem-
bling potion which Juliet had swallowed, the effect of
which was now nearly expiring, and she about to awake
to complain that Romeo had not kept his time, or that he
had come too soon.
For now the hour was arrived at which the friar had
promised that she should awake , and he , having learned
that his letters which he had sent to Mantua, by some
unlucky detention of the messenger, had never reached
Romeo, came himself, provided with a pickaxe and lantern ,
to deliver the lady from her confinement ; but he was sur-
prised to find a light already burning in the Capulets'
monument, and to see swords and blood near it, and
Romeo and Paris lying breathless by the monument.
Before he could entertain a conjecture, to imagine how
these fatal accidents had fallen out, Juliet awoke out of
her trance, and seeing the friar near her, she remembered
the place where she was, and the occasion of her being
there, and asked for Romeo, but the friar, hearing a noise,
252 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

bade her come out of that place of death, and of unnatural

sleep, for a greater power than they could contradict had
thwarted their intents ; and being frightened by the noise
of people coming, he fled : but when Juliet saw the cup
closed in her true love's hands, she guessed that poison
had been the cause of his end, and she would have swal-
lowed the dregs if any had been left, and she kissed his
still warm lips to try if any poison yet did hang upon
them ; then hearing a nearer noise of people coming, she
quickly unsheathed a dagger which she wore, and stabbing
herself, died by her true Romeo's side.
The watch by this time had come up to the place. A
page belonging to count Paris, who had witnessed the
fight between his master and Romeo, had given the alarm ,
which had spread among the citizens, who went up and
down the streets of Verona confusedly exclaiming, A
Paris ! a Romeo a Juliet ! as the rumor had imperfectly
reached them, till the uproar brought lord Montague and
lord Capulet out of their beds, with the prince, to inquire
into the causes of the disturbance. The friar had been
apprehended by some of the watch, coming from the
churchyard, trembling, sighing, and weeping, in a suspi-
cious manner. A great multitude being assembled at the

Capulets' monument, the friar was demanded by the prince

to deliver what he knew of these strange and disastrous
accidents .
And there, in the presence of the old lords Montague
and Capulet, he faithfully related the story of their chil-
dren's fatal love, the part he took in promoting their mar-
riage, in the hope in that union to end the long quarrels
between their families : how Romeo, there dead, was hus-
band to Juliet ; and Juliet there dead, was Romeo's faith-
ful wife ; how before he could find a fit opportunity to
 ROMEO AND JULIET . 253

divulge their marriage, another match was projected for

Juliet, who, to avoid the crime of a second marriage,
swallowed the sleeping draught ( as he advised ) , and all
thought her dead ; how meantime he wrote to Romeo, to
come and take her thence when the force of the potion
should cease, and by what unfortunate miscarriage of the
messenger the letters never reached Romeo : further than
this the friar could not follow the story, nor knew more
than that coming himself, to deliver Juliet from that place
of death, he found the count Paris and Romeo slain. The
remainder of the transactions was supplied by the narra-
tion of the page who had seen Paris and Romeo fight, and
by the servant who came with Romeo from Verona, to
whom this faithful lover had given letters to be delivered
to his father in the event of his death, which made good
the friar's words, confessing his marriage with Juliet,
imploring the forgiveness of his parents, acknowledging
the buying of the poison of the poor apothecary, and his
intent in coming to the monument, to die, and lie with
Juliet. All these circumstances agreed together to clear
the friar from any hand he could be supposed to have in
these complicated slaughters, further than as the unin-
tended consequences of his own well meant, yet too arti-
ficial and subtle contrivances.
And the prince, turning to these old lords, Montague
and Capulet, rebuked them for their brutal and irrational
enmities, and showed them what a scourge Heaven had
laid upon such offences, that it had found means even
through the love of their children to punish their unnat-
ural hate. And these old rivals, no longer enemies, agreed
to bury their long strife in their children's graves ; and
lord Capulet requested lord Montague to give him his
hand, calling him by the name of brother, as if in acknowl
254 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

edgment of the union of their families, by the marriage

of the young Capulet and Montague ; and saying that lord
Montague's hand (in token of reconcilement) was all he
demanded for his daughter's jointure : but lord Montague
said he would give him more, for he would raise her a
statue of pure gold , that while Verona kept its name, no
figure should be so esteemed for its richness and workman-
ship as that of the true and faithful Juliet. And lord
Capulet in return said that he would raise another statue
to Romeo. So did these poor old lords, when it was too
late, strive to outgo each other in mutual courtesies ; while
so deadly had been their rage and enmity in past times,
that nothing but the fearful overthrow of their children
(poor sacrifices to their quarrels and dissensions ) could
remove the rooted hates and jealousies of the noble
families.
 HAMLET. 255

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK.

GERTRUDE, queen of Denmark, becoming a widow

by the sudden death of King Hamlet, in less than
two months after his death married his brother Claudius,
which was noted by all people at the time for a strange
act of indiscretion, or unfeelingness, or worse : for this
Claudius did no ways resemble her late husband in the
qualities of his person or his mind , but was as contempti-
ble in outward appearance, as he was base and unworthy
in disposition ; and suspicions did not fail to arise in the
minds of some, that he had privately made away with
his brother, the late king, with the view of marrying his
widow, and ascending the throne of Denmark, to the
exclusion of young Hamlet, the son of the buried king,
and lawful successor to the throne.
But upon no one did this unadvised action of the queen
make such impression as upon this young prince , who
loved and venerated the memory of his dead father almost
to idolatry, and being of a nice sense of honor, and a most
exquisite practiser of propriety himself, did sorely take
to heart this unworthy conduct of his mother Gertrude :
insomuch that, between grief for his father's death and
shame for his mother's marriage, this young prince was
overclouded with a deep melancholy, and lost all his mirth
and all his good looks ; all his customary pleasure in books
forsook him, his princely exercises and sports, proper to
his youth, were no longer acceptable ; he grew weary of
256 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

the world, which seemed to him an unweeded garden,

where all the wholesome flowers were choked up, and
nothing but weeds could thrive . Not that the prospect
of exclusion from the throne, his lawful inheritance ,
weighed so much upon his spirits, though that to a young
and high-minded prince was a bitter wound and a sore
indignity ; but what so galled him, and took away all his
cheerful spirits , was, that his mother had shown herself
so forgetful to his father's memory : and such a father !
who had been to her so loving and so gentle a husband !
and then she always appeared as loving and obedient a
wife to him, and would hang upon him as if her affection
grew to him and now within two months, or as it seemed
to young Hamlet, less than two months, she had married
again, married his uncle, her dear husband's brother, in
itself a highly improper and unlawful marriage, from the
nearness of relationship, but made much more so by the in-
decent haste with which it was concluded, and the unkingly
character of the man whom she had chosen to be the part-
ner of her throne and bed . This it was, which more than
the loss of ten kingdoms, dashed the spirits and brought a
cloud over the mind of this honorable young prince.
In vain was all that his mother Gertrude or the king
could do to contrive to divert him ; he still appeared in
court in a suit of deep black, as mourning for the king
his father's death, which mode of dress he had never laid
aside, not even in compliment to his mother upon the day
she was married, nor could he be brought to join in any
of the festivities or rejoicings of that (as appeared to him)
disgraceful day.
What mostly troubled him was an uncertainty about
the manner of his father's death. It was given out by
Claudius that a serpent had stung him ; but young
 HAMLET. 257

Hamlet had shrewd suspicions that Claudius himself was

the serpent ; in plain English, that he had murdered him
for his crown, and that the serpent who stung his father
did now sit on the throne.
How far he was right in this conjecture, and what he
ought to think of his mother, how far she was privy to
this murder, and whether by her consent or knowledge,
or without, it came to pass, were the doubts which contin-
ually harassed and distracted him .
A rumor had reached the ear of young Hamlet, that an
apparition, exactly resembling the dead king his father,
had been seen by the soldiers upon watch, on the platform
before the palace at midnight, for two or three nights
successively. The figure came constantly clad in the
same suit of armor, from head to foot, which the dead
king was known to have worn : and they who saw it
(Hamlet's bosom friend Horatio was one) agreed in their
testimony as to the time and manner of its appearance :
that it came just as the clock struck twelve ; that it looked
pale, with a face more of sorrow than of anger ; that its
beard was grisly, and the color a sable silvered, as they
had seen it in his life-time : that it made no answer when
they spoke to it ; yet once they thought it lifted up its
head, and addressed itself to motion, as if it were about
to speak ; but in that moment the morning cock crew, and
it shrunk in haste away, and vanished out of their sight.
The young prince, strangely amazed at their relation ,
which was too consistent and agreeing with itself to dis-
believe, concluded that it was his father's ghost which
they had seen, and determined to take his watch with the
soldiers that night, that he might have a chance of seeing
it ; for he reasoned with himself, that such an appearance
did not come for nothing, but that the ghost had some
258 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

thing to impart, and though it had been silent hitherto,

yet it would speak to him. And he waited with impa-
tience for the coming of night.
When night came he took his stand with Horatio, and
Marcellus, one of the guard , upon the platform, where this
apparition was accustomed to walk : and it being a cold
night, and the air unusually raw and nipping , Hamlet and
Horatio and their companion fell into some talk about the
coldness of the night, which was suddenly broken off by
Horatio announcing that the ghost was coming.
At the sight of his father's spirit, Hamlet was struck
with a sudden surprise and fear. He at first called upon
the angels and heavenly ministers to defend them , for hę
knew not whether it were a good spirit or bad ; whether
it came for good or evil : but he gradually assumed more
courage ; and his father ( as it seemed to him) looked upon
him so piteously, and as it were desiring to have conversa-
tion with him, and did in all respects appear so like him-
self as he was when he lived, that Hamlet could not help
addressing him : he called him by his name, Hamlet, King,
Father ! and conjured him that he would tell the reason
why he had left his grave, where they had seen him quietly
bestowed, to come again and visit the earth and the moon-
light and besought him that he would let them know if
there was any thing which they could do to give peace to
his spirit. And the ghost beckoned to Hamlet, that he
should go with him to some more removed place, where
they might be alone ; and Horatio and Marcellus would
have dissuaded the young prince from following it, for
they feared lest it should be some evil spirit, who would
tempt him to the neighboring sea, or to the top of some
dreadful cliff, and there put on some horrible shape which
might deprive the prince of his reason . But their counsels
 HAMLET. 259

and entreaties could not alter Hamlet's determination,

who cared too little about life to fear the losing of it ;
and as to his soul, he said, what could the spirit do to that,
being a thing immortal as itself ? And he felt as hardy
as a lion, and bursting from them, who did all they could
to hold him, he followed whithersoever the spirit led him.
And when they were alone together, the spirit broke
silence, and told him that he was the ghost of Hamlet, his
father, who had been cruelly murdered, and he told the
manner of it ; that it was done by his own brother
Claudius, Hamlet's uncle, as Hamlet had already but too
much suspected, for the hope of succeeding to his bed and
crown. That as he was sleeping in his garden, his custom
always in the afternoon, his treasonous brother stole upon
him in his sleep, and poured the juice of poisonous hen-
bane into his ears, which has such an antipathy to the life
of man, that swift as quicksilver it courses through all the
veins of the body, baking up the blood, and spreading
a crust-like leprosy all over the skin : thus sleeping, by a
brother's hand he was cut off at once from his crown , his
queen , and his life : and he adjured Hamlet, if he did ever
his dear father love, that he would revenge his foul mur-
der. And the ghost lamented to his son, that his mother
should so fall off from virtue as to prove false to the
wedded love of her first husband, and to marry his
murderer ; but he cautioned Hamlet, howsoever he pro-
ceeded in his revenge against his wicked uncle, by no
means to act any violence against the person of his
mother, but to leave her to heaven, and to the stings and
thorns of conscience . And Hamlet promised to observe
the ghost's direction in all things, and the ghost vanished .
And when Hamlet was left alone, he took up a solemn
resolution, that all he had in his memory, all that he had
260 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

ever learned by books or observation, should be instantly

forgotten by him, and nothing live in his brain but the
memory of what the ghost had told him, and enjoined him
to do. And Hamlet related the particulars of the con-
versation which had passed to none but his dear friend
Horatio ; and he enjoined both to him and Marcellus the
strictest secrecy as to what they had seen that night.
The terror which the sight of the ghost had left upon
the senses of Hamlet, he being weak and dispirited before,
almost unhinged his mind, and drove him beside his
reason. And he, fearing that it would continue to have
this effect, which might subject him to observation , and
set his uncle upon his guard, if he suspected that he was
meditating any thing against him, or that Hamlet really
knew more of his father's death than he professed, took
up a strange resolution, from that time to counterfeit as if
he were really and truly mad ; thinking that he would be
less an object of suspicion when his uncle should believe
him incapable of any serious project, and that his real
perturbation of mind would be best covered and pass con-
cealed under a disguise of pretended lunacy.
From this time Hamlet affected a certain wildness and
strangeness in his apparel, his speech, and behavior, and
did so excellently counterfeit the madman, that the king
and queen were both deceived, and not thinking his grief
for his father's death a sufficient cause to produce such a
distemper, for they knew not of the appearance of the
ghost, they concluded that his malady was love, and they
thought they had found out the object.
Before Hamlet fell into the melancholy way which has
been related, he had dearly loved a fair maid called
Ophelia, the daughter of Polonius, the king's chief coun-
sellor in affairs of state . He had sent her letters and
 HAMLET. 261

rings, and made many tenders of his affection to her, and

importuned her with love in honorable fashion : and she
had given belief to his vows and importunities. But the
melancholy which he fell into latterly had made him
neglect her, and from the time he conceived the pro-
ject of counterfeiting madness, he affected to treat her
with unkindness, and a sort of rudeness : but she, good
lady, rather than reproach him with being false to her,
persuaded herself that it was nothing but the disease in
his mind, and no settled unkindness, which had made
him less observant of her than formerly ; and she com-
pared the faculties of his once noble mind and excellent
understanding, impaired as they were with the deep mel-
ancholy that oppressed him, to sweet bells which in them-
selves are capable of most exquisite music , but when
jangled out of tune, or rudely handled, produce only a
harsh and unpleasing sound.
Though the rough business which Hamlet had in hand,
the revenging of his father's death upon his murderer, did
not suit with the playful state of courtship, or admit of
the society of so idle a passion as love now seemed to him,
yet it could not hinder but that soft thoughts of his
Ophelia would come between , and in one of these mo-
ments, when he thought that his treatment of this gentle
lady had been unreasonably harsh, he wrote her a letter
full of wild starts of passion, and in extravagant terms,
such as agreed with his supposed madness, but mixed
with some gentle touches of affection , which could not but
show to this honored lady that a deep love for her yet lay
at the bottom of his heart. He bade her to doubt the
stars were fire, and to doubt that the sun did move, to
doubt truth to be a liar, but never to doubt that he loved ;
with more of such extravagant phrases. This letter
262 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

Ophelia dutifully showed to her father, and the old man

thought himself bound to communicate it to the king and
queen, who from that time supposed that the true cause
of Hamlet's madness was love . And the queen wished
that the good beauties of Ophelia might be the happy
cause of his wildness, for so she hoped that her virtues
might happily restore him to his accustomed way again ,
to both their honors .
But Hamlet's malady lay deeper than she supposed, or
than could be so cured . His father's ghost, which he had
seen , still haunted his imagination , and the sacred injunc-
tion to revenge his murder gave him no rest till it was
accomplished. Every hour of delay seemed to him a sin,
and a violation of his father's commands. Yet how to
compass the death of the king, surrounded as he con-
stantly was with his guards, was no easy matter. Or if
it had been, the presence of the queen, Hamlet's mother,
who was generally with the king, was a restraint upon his
purpose, which he could not break through . Besides, the
very circumstance that the usurper was his mother's hus-
band filled him with some remorse, and still blunted the
edge of his purpose. The mere act of putting a fellow-
creature to death was in itself odious and terrible to a
very
disposition naturally so gentle as Hamlet's was. His
melancholy, and the dejection of spirits he had so long
been in, produced an irresoluteness and wavering of pur-
pose, which kept him from proceeding to extremities .
Moreover, he could not help having some scruples upon
his mind, whether the spirit which he had seen was indeed
his father, or whether it might not be the devil who he
had heard has power to take any form he pleases, and
who might have assumed his father's shape only to take
advantage of his weakness and his melancholy, to drive
 HAMLET . 263

him to the doing of so desperate an act as murder. And

he determined that he would have more certain grounds
to go upon than a vision, or apparition, which might be
a delusion .
While he was in this irresolute mind there came to the
court certain players , in whom Hamlet formerly used to
take delight, and particularly to hear one of them speak
a tragical speech , describing the death of old Priam, king
of Troy, with the grief of Hecuba his queen . Hamlet
welcomed his old friends, the players, and remembering
how that speech had formerly given him pleasure, re-
quested the player to repeat it ; which he did in so lively
a manner, setting forth the cruel murder of the feeble old
king, with the destruction of his people and city by fire,
and the mad grief of the old queen, running barefoot up
and down the palace, with a poor clout upon that head
where a crown had been, and with nothing but a blanket
upon her loins, snatched up in haste, where she had worn
a royal robe ; that not only it drew tears from all that
stood by, who thought they saw the real scene, so lively
was it represented, but even the player himself delivered
it with a broken voice and real tears. This put Hamlet
upon thinking, if that player could so work himself up to
passion by a mere fictitious speech, to weep for one that
he had never seen, for Hecuba, that had been dead so
many hundred years, how dull was he, who having a real
motive and cue for passion, a real king and a dear father
murdered, was yet so little moved, that his revenge all
this while had seemed to have slept in dull and muddy
forgetfulness ! and while he meditated on actors and act-
ing, and the powerful effects which a good play, repre-
sented to the life, has upon the spectator, he remembered
the instance of some murderer, who seeing a murder on
264 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

the stage, was by the mere force of the scene and resem-
blance of circumstances so affected, that on the spot he
confessed the crime which he had committed . And he
determined that these players should play something like
the murder of his father before his uncle, and he would
watch narrowly what effect it might have upon him, and
from his looks he would be able to gather with more cer-
tainty if he were the murderer or not . To this effect he
ordered a play to be prepared, to the representation of
which he invited the king and queen .
The story of the play was of a murder done in Vienna
upon a duke. The duke's name was Gonzago , his wife
Baptista. The play showed how one Lucianus, a near
relation to the duke , poisoned him in his garden for his
estate, and how the murderer in a short time after got the
love of Gonzago's wife.
At the representation of this play, the king, who did
not know the trap which was laid for him, was present,
with his queen and the whole court : Hamlet sitting atten-
tively near him to observe his looks . The play began with
a conversation between Gonzago and his wife , in which
the lady made many protestations of love, and of never
marrying a second husband, if she should outlive Gon-
zago ; wishing she might be accursed if she ever took a
second husband, and adding that no woman did so, but
those wicked women who kill their first husbands . Ham-
let observed the king his uncle change color at this
expression, and that it was as bad as wormwood both to
him and to the queen . But when Lucianus, according to
the story, came to poison Gonzago sleeping in the garden ,
the strong resemblance which it bore to his own wicked
act upon the late king, his brother, whom he had poi-
soned in his garden , so struck upon the conscience of this
 HAMLET. 265

usurper, that he was unable to sit out the rest of the play,
but on a sudden calling for lights to his chamber, and
affecting or partly feeling a sudden sickness , he abruptly
left the theatre . The king being departed, the play was
given over. Now Hamlet had seen enough to be satisfied
that the words of the ghost were true, and no illusion ;
and in a fit of gayety, like that which comes over a man
who suddenly has some great doubt or scruple resolved, he
swore to Horatio, that he would take the ghost's word for
a thousand pounds. But before he could make up his
resolution as to what measures of revenge he should take,
now he was certainly informed that his uncle was his
father's murderer, he was sent for by the queen, his
mother, to a private conference in her closet.
It was by desire of the king that the queen sent for
Hamlet, that she might signify to her son how much his
late behavior had displeased them both ; and the king,
wishing to know all that passed at that conference , and
thinking that the too partial report of a mother might let
slip some part of Hamlet's words, which it might much
import the king to know, Polonius, the old counsellor of
state, was ordered to plant himself behind the hangings in
the queen's closet, where he might unseen hear all that
passed . This artifice was particularly adapted to the dis-
position of Polonius, who was a man grown old in crooked
maxims and policies of state, and delighted to get at the
knowledge of matters in an indirect and cunning way.
Hamlet being come to his mother, she began to tax him
in the roundest way with his actions and behavior, and
she told him that he had given great offence to his father,
meaning the king, his uncle, whom, because he had mar-
ried her, she called Hamlet's father. Hamlet, sorely indig-
nant that she should give so dear and honored a name as
266 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

father seemed to him, to a wretch who was indeed no

better than the murderer of his true father, with some
sharpness replied, " Mother, you have much offended my
father." The queen said that was but an idle answer.
"As good as the question deserved ," said Hamlet. The
queen asked him if he had forgotten who it was he was
speaking to ? " Alas ! " replied Hamlet, " I wish I could
forget. You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife ;
and you are my mother : I wish you were not what you
are." " Nay, then," said the queen, " if you show me so
little respect, I will set those to you that can speak," and
was going to send the king or Polonius to him. But
Hamlet would not let her go, now he had her alone, till
he had tried if his words could not bring her to some sense
of her wicked life ; and, taking her by the wrist , he held
her fast, and made her sit down . She, affrighted at his
earnest manner, and fearful lest in his lunacy he should
do her a mischief, cried out ; and a voice was heard from
behind the hangings, " Help, help, the queen ! " which
Hamlet hearing, and verily thinking that it was the king
himself there concealed, he drew his sword and stabbed
at the place where the voice came from, as he would
have stabbed a rat that ran there, till the voice ceasing , he
concluded the person to be dead. But when he dragged
forth the body, it was not the king, but Polonius , the old
officious counsellor, that had planted himself as a spy
behind the hangings . " Oh me ! " exclaimed the queen,
"what a rash and bloody deed have you done ! " " A
bloody deed, mother," replied Hamlet, " but not so bad
as yours, who killed a king, and married his brother."
Hamlet had gone too far to leave off here. He was now
in the humor to speak plainly to his mother, and he pur-
sued it. And though the faults of parents are to be ten-
 HAMLET . 267

derly treated by their children, yet in the case of great

crimes the son may have leave to speak even to his own
mother with some harshness, so as that harshness is meant
for her good, and to turn her from her wicked ways, and
not done for the purpose of upbraiding. And now this vir-
tuous prince did in moving terms represent to the queen
the heinousness of her offence, in being so forgetful of the
dead king, his father, as in so short a space of time to marry
with his brother and reputed murderer : such an act as,
after the vows which she had sworn to her first husband,
was enough to make all vows of women suspected, and all
virtue to be accounted hypocrisy, wedding contracts to be
less than gamester's oaths, and religion to be a mockery
and a mere form of words. He said she had done such
a deed, that the heavens blushed at it, and the earth was
sick of her because of it. And he showed her two pic-
tures, the one of the late king, her first husband, and the
other of the present king, her second husband, and he bade
her mark the difference ; what a grace was on the brow
of his father, how like a god he looked ! the curls of
Apollo, the forehead of Jupiter, the eye of Mars, and a
posture like to Mercury newly alighted on some heaven-
kissing hill ! this man, he said, had been her husband. And
then he showed her whom she had got in his stead : how
like a blight or a mildew he looked, for so he had blasted
his wholesome brother . And the queen was sore ashamed
that he should so turn her eyes inward upon her soul,
which she now saw so black and deformed . And he asked
her how she could continue to live with this man, and be
a wife to him, who had murdered her first husband, and
got the crown by as false means as a thief and just
as he spoke, the ghost of his father, such as he was in his
lifetime, and such as he had lately seen it, entered the
268 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

room, and Hamlet, in great terror, asked what it would

have ; and the ghost said that it came to remind him of the
revenge he had promised, which Hamlet seemed to have
forgot ; and the ghost bade him speak to his mother, for
the grief and terror she was in would else kill her. It
then vanished, and was seen by none but Hamlet, neither
could he by pointing to where it stood, or by any descrip-
tion , make his mother perceive it ; who was terribly
frightened all this while to hear him conversing, as it
seemed to her, with nothing ; and she imputed it to the
disorder of his mind. But Hamlet begged her not to
flatter her wicked soul in such a manner as to think that
it was his madness, and not her own offences, which had
brought his father's spirit again on the earth . And he
bade her feel his pulse, how temperately it beat, not like
a madman's. And he begged of her with tears , to confess
herself to heaven for what was past, and for the future to
avoid the company of the king, and be no more as a wife
to him : and when she should show herself a mother to
him, by respecting his father's memory, he would ask a
blessing of her as a son. And she promising to observe
his directions, the conference ended.
And now Hamlet was at leisure to consider who it was
that in his unfortunate rashness he had killed : and when
he came to see that it was Polonius, the father of the lady
Ophelia, whom he so dearly loved, he drew apart the dead
body, and, his spirits being now a little quieter, he wept
for what he had done.
The unfortunate death of Polonius gave the king a pre-
tence for sending Hamlet out of the kingdom. He would
willingly have put him to death, fearing him as dangerous ;
but he dreaded the people, who loved Hamlet, and the
queen, who, with all her faults, doted upon the prince, her
 HAMLET . 269

son. So this subtle king, under pretence of providing for

Hamlet's safety, that he might not be called to account
for Polonius ' death , caused him to be conveyed on board
a ship bound for England , under the care of two courtiers,
by whom he despatched letters to the English court, which
in that time was in subjection and paid tribute to Denmark,
requiring for special reasons there pretended, that Hamlet
should be put to death as soon as he landed on English
ground. Hamlet, suspecting some treachery, in the night-
time secretly got at the letters, and skilfully erasing his
own name, he in the stead of it put in the names of those
two courtiers, who had the charge of him, to be put to
death : then sealing up the letters, he put them into their
place again . Soon after the ship was attacked by pirates,
and a sea-fight commenced ; in the course of which Hamlet,
desirous to show his valor, with sword in hand singly
boarded the enemy's vessel ; while his own ship, in a
cowardly manner, bore away, and leaving him to his fate,
the two courtiers made the best of their way to England ,
charged with those letters the sense of which Hamlet had
altered to their own deserved destruction .
The pirates, who had the prince in their power, showed
themselves gentle enemies ; and knowing whom they had
got prisoner, in the hope that the prince might do them a
good turn at court in recompense for any favor they might
show him, they set Hamlet on shore at the nearest port in
Denmark. From that place Hamlet wrote to the king,
acquainting him with the strange chance which had
brought him back to his own country, and saying that
on the next day he should present himself before his
majesty. When he got home, a sad spectacle offered
itself the first thing to his eyes.
This was the funeral of the young and beautiful Ophe
270 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

lia, his once dear mistress . The wits of this young lady
had begun to turn ever since her poor father's death .
That he should die a violent death, and by the hands of
the prince whom she loved, so affected this tender young
maid, that in a little time she grew perfectly distracted ,
and would go about giving flowers away to the ladies of
the court, and saying that they were for her father's
burial, singing songs about love and about death, and
sometimes such as had no meaning at all, as if she had
no memory of what happened to her. There was a wil-
low which grew slanting over a brook, and reflected its
leaves on the stream . To this brook she came one day
when she was unwatched , with garlands she had been
making, mixed up of daisies and nettles, flowers and
weeds together, and clambering up to hang her garland
upon the boughs of the willow, a bough broke, and pre-
cipitated this fair young maid, garland , and all that she
had gathered, into the water, where her clothes bore her
up for a while, during which she chanted scraps of old
tunes, like one insensible to her own distress, or as if she
were a creature natural to that element : but long it
was not before her garments, heavy with the wet, pulled
her in from her melodious singing to a muddy and mis-
erable death. It was the funeral of this fair maid which
her brother Laertes was celebrating, the king and queen
and whole court being present, when Hamlet arrived .
He knew not what all this show imported, but stood on
one side, not inclining to interrupt the ceremony. He
saw the flowers strewed upon her grave, as the custom
was in maiden burials, which the queen herself threw in ;
and as she threw them she said, " Sweets to the sweet !
I thought to have decked thy bridebed, sweet maid, not
to have strewed thy grave. Thou shouldst have been
 HAMLET. 271

my Hamlet's wife." And he heard her brother wish that

violets might spring from her grave : and he saw him leap
into the grave all frantic with grief, and bid the attend-
ants pile mountains of earth upon him, that he might be
buried with her. And Hamlet's love for this fair maid
came back to him, and he could not bear that a brother
should show so much transport of grief, for he thought
that he loved Ophelia better than forty thousand brothers.
Then discovering himself, he leaped into the grave where
Laertes was, all as frantic or more frantic than he, and
Laertes knowing him to be Hamlet, who had been the
cause of his father's and his sister's death, grappled him
by the throat as an enemy, till the attendants parted
them and Hamlet, after the funeral, excused his hasty
act in throwing himself into the grave as if to brave
Laertes ; but he said he could not bear that any one
should seem to outgo him in grief for the death of the
fair Ophelia. And for the time these two noble youths
seemed reconciled .
But out of the grief and anger of Laertes for the death
.
of his father and Ophelia, the king, Hamlet's wicked
uncle, contrived destruction for Hamlet. He set on La-
ertes, under cover of peace and reconciliation , to chal-
lenge Hamlet to a friendly trial of skill at fencing, which
Hamlet accepting, a day was appointed to try the match.
At this match all the court was present, and Laertes, by
direction of the king, prepared a poisoned weapon . Upon
this match great wagers were laid by the courtiers, as
both Hamlet and Laertes were known to excel at this
sword play ; and Hamlet taking up the foils chose one,
not at all suspecting the treachery of Laertes, or being
careful to examine Laertes' weapon, who, instead of a
foil or blunted sword, which the laws of fencing require,
272 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

made use of one with a point, and poisoned . At first

Laertes did but play with Hamlet, and suffered him to
gain some advantages, which the dissembling king mag-
nified and extolled beyond measure, drinking to Hamlet's
success, and wagering rich bets upon the issue : but after
a few pauses, Laertes growing warm made a deadly thrust
at Hamlet with his poisoned weapon, and gave him a
mortal blow. Hamlet incensed, but not knowing the
whole of the treachery, in the scuffle exchanged his own
innocent weapon for Laertes' deadly one, and with a
thrust of Laertes ' own sword repaid Laertes home , who
was thus justly caught in his own treachery. In this
instant the queen shrieked out that she was poisoned .
She had inadvertently drunk out of a bowl which the
king had prepared for Hamlet, in case, that being warm
in fencing, he should call for drink into this the treach-
erous king had infused a deadly poison , to make sure of
Hamlet, if Laertes had failed . He had forgotten to warn
the queen of the bowl, which she drank of, and immedi-
ately died, exclaiming with her last breath that she was
poisoned. Hamlet, suspecting some treachery, ordered
the doors to be shut, while he sought it out. Laertes told
him to seek no farther, for he was the traitor ; and feeling
his life go away with the wound which Hamlet had given
him, he made confession of the treachery he had used, and
how he had fallen a victim to it : and he told Hamlet of
the envenomed point, and said that Hamlet had not half
an hour to live, for no medicine could cure him ; and
begging forgiveness of Hamlet, he died, with his last
words accusing the king of being the contriver of the
mischief. When Hamlet saw his end draw near, there
being yet some venom left upon the sword, he suddenly
turned upon his false uncle, and thrust the point of it to
 HAMLET. 273

his heart, fulfilling the promise which he had made to his

father's spirit, whose injunction was now accomplished ,
and his foul murder revenged upon the murderer . Then
Hamlet, feeling his breath fail and life departing, turned
to his dear friend Horatio, who had been spectator of this
fatal tragedy ; and with his dying breath requested him
that he would live to tell his story to the world (for Ho-
ratio had made a motion as if he would slay himself to
accompany the prince in death) , and Horatio promised
that he would make a true report, as one that was privy
to all the circumstances. And, thus satisfied , the noble
heart of Hamlet cracked ; and Horatio and the bystanders
with many tears commended the spirit of this sweet
prince to the guardianship of angels. For Hamlet was
a loving and a gentle prince, and greatly beloved for his
many noble and princelike qualities ; and if he had lived,
would no doubt have proved a most royal and complete
king to Denmark.
274 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

OTHELLO.

BRABANTIO, the rich senator of Venice, had a fair

daughter, the gentle Desdemona. She was sought to
by divers suitors, both on account of her many virtuous
qualities, and for her rich expectations. But among the
suitors of her own clime and complexion , she saw none
whom she could affect : for this noble lady, who regarded
the mind more than the features of men, with a singularity
rather to be admired than imitated , had chosen for the
object of her affections, a Moor, a black, whom her father
loved, and often invited to his house.
Neither is Desdemona to be altogether condemned for
the unsuitableness of the person whom she selected for her
lover. Bating that Othello was black, the noble Moor
wanted nothing which might recommend him to the affec-
tions of the greatest lady. He was a soldier , and a brave
one ; and by his conduct in bloody wars against the Turks ,
had risen to the rank of general in the Venetian service,
and was esteemed and trusted by the state.
He had been a traveller, and Desdemona (as is the man-
ner of ladies ) loved to hear him tell the story of his adven-
tures, which he would run through from his earliest recol-
lection ; the battles, sieges, and encounters, which he had
passed through ; the perils he had been exposed to by land
and by water ; his hair-breadth escapes, when he had
entered a breach, or marched up to the mouth of a can-
non ; and how he had been taken prisoner by the insolent
 OTHELLO. 275

enemy, and sold to slavery ; how he demeaned himself in

that state, and how he escaped : all these accounts, added
to the narration of the strange things he had seen in for-
eign countries , the vast wilderness and romantic caverns,
the quarries, the rocks and mountains, whose heads are in
the clouds ; of the savage nations, the cannibals who are
man-eaters, and a race of people in Africa whose heads do
grow beneath their shoulders : these travellers ' stories
would so enchain the attention of Desdemona, that if she
were called off at any time by household affairs, she would
despatch with all haste that business, and return , and with
a greedy ear devour Othello's discourse. And once he
took advantage of a pliant hour, and drew from her a
prayer, that he would tell her the whole story of his life
at large, of which she had heard so much, but only by
parts : to which he consented, and beguiled her of many
a tear, when he spoke of some distressful stroke which his
youth had suffered .
His story being done, she gave him for his pains a world
of sighs she swore a pretty oath, that it was all passing
strange, and pitiful, wondrous pitiful : she wished (she
said) she had not heard it, yet she wished that heaven had
made her such a man ; and then she thanked him, and
told him, if he had a friend who loved her, he had only to
teach him how to tell his story, and that would woo her .
Upon this hint, delivered not with more frankness than
modesty, accompanied with certain bewitching prettiness,
and blushes, which Othello could not but understand, he
spoke more openly of his love, and in this golden oppor-
tunity gained the consent of the generous lady Desdemona
privately to marry him.
Neither Othello's color nor his fortune were such that
it could be hoped Brabantio would accept him for a son-in-
276 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

law. He had left his daughter free ; but he did expect

that, as the manner of noble Venetian ladies was, she
would choose ere long a husband of senatorial rank or
expectations ; but in this he was deceived ; Desdemona
loved the Moor, though he was black, and devoted her
heart and fortunes to his valiant parts and qualities ; so
was her heart subdued to an implicit devotion to the man
she had selected for a husband, that his very color, which
to all but this discerning lady would have proved an insur-
mountable objection , was by her esteemed above all the
white skins and clear complexions of the young Venetian
nobility, her suitors.
Their marriage, which, though privately carried, could
not long be kept a secret, came to the ears of the old man ,
Brabantio, who appeared in a solemn council of the senate,
as an accuser of the Moor Othello , who by spells and
witchcraft (he maintained) had seduced the affections of
the fair Desdemona to marry him , without the consent of
her father, and against the obligations of hospitality.
At this juncture of time it happened that the state of
Venice had immediate need of the services of Othello,
news having arrived that the Turks with mighty prepara-
tion had fitted out a fleet, which was bending its course to
the island of Cyprus, with intent to regain that strong
post from the Venetians, who then held it ; in this emer-
gency the state turned its eyes upon Othello , who alone
was deemed adequate to conduct the defence of Cyprus
against the Turks . So that Othello, now summoned be-
fore the senate, stood in their presence at once as a can-
didate for a great state employment, and as a culprit,
charged with offences which by the laws of Venice were
made capital.
The age and senatorial character of old Brabantio, com-
 OTHELLO . 277

manded a most patient hearing from that grave assembly ;

but the incensed father conducted his accusation with so
much intemperance, producing likelihoods and allegations
for proofs, that, when Othello was called upon for his
defence, he had only to relate a plain tale of the course of
his love ; which he did with such an artless eloquence,
recounting the whole story of his wooing, as we have
related it above, and delivered his speech with so noble
a plainness (the evidence of truth) , that the duke, who
sat as chief judge, could not help confessing that a tale so
told would have won his daughter too : and the spells and
conjurations which Othello had used in his courtship ,
plainly appeared to have been no more than the honest
arts of men in love ; and the only witchcraft which he
had used, the faculty of telling a soft tale to win a lady's
ear.
This statement of Othello was confirmed by the testi-
mony of the lady Desdemona herself, who appeared in
court, and professing a duty to her father for life and
education , challenged leave of him to profess a yet higher
duty to her lord and husband, even so much as her
mother had shown in preferring him (Brabantio ) above
her father.
The old senator, unable to maintain his plea, called the
Moor to him with many expressions of sorrow, and, as an
act of necessity, bestowed upon him his daughter, whom ,
if he had been free to withhold her (he told him ) , he
would with all his heart have kept from him ; adding,
that he was glad at soul that he had no other child, for
this behavior of Desdemona would have taught him to be
a tyrant, and hang clogs on them for her desertion .
This difficulty being got over, Othello, to whom custom
had rendered the hardships of a military life as natural as
278 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

food and rest are to other men , readily undertook the

management of the wars in Cyprus : and Desdemona,
preferring the honor of her lord (though with danger)
before the indulgence of those idle delights in which new-
married people usually waste their time, cheerfully con-
sented to his going.
No sooner were Othello and his lady landed in Cyprus,
than news arrived , that a desperate tempest had dispersed
the Turkish fleet, and thus the island was secure from any
immediate apprehension of an attack. But the war, which
Othello was to suffer, was now beginning ; and the ene-
mies, which malice stirred up against his innocent lady,
proved in their nature more deadly than strangers or infi-
dels.
Among all the general's friends no one possessed the
confidence of Othello more entirely than Cassio . Michael
Cassio was a young soldier, a Florentine, gay, amorous,
and of pleasing address, favorite qualities with women ; he
was handsome and eloquent, and exactly such a person as
might alarm the jealousy of a man advanced in years (as
Othello in some measure was) , who had married a young
and beautiful wife ; but Othello was as free from jealousy
as he was noble, and as incapable of suspecting as of doing
a base action . He had employed this Cassio in his love
affair with Desdemona, and Cassio had been a sort of go-
between in his suit : for Othello, fearing that himself had
not those soft parts of conversation which please ladies,
and finding these qualities in his friend, would often
depute Cassio to go (as he phrased it) a-courting for him :
such innocent simplicity being rather an honor than a
blemish to the character of the valiant Moor. So that
no wonder, if next to Othello himself (but at far distance,
as beseems a virtuous wife) the gentle Desdemona loved
 OTHELLO. 279

and trusted Cassio . Nor had the marriage of this couple

made any difference in their behavior to Michael Cassio.
He frequented their house, and his free and rattling talk
was no unpleasing variety to Othello, who was himself of
a more serious temper : for such tempers are observed
often to delight in their contraries, as a relief from the
oppressive excess of their own : and Desdemona and Cassio
would talk and laugh together, as in the days when he
went a-courting for his friend.
Othello had lately promoted Cassio to be the lieutenant,
a place of trust, and nearest to the general's person . This
promotion gave great offence to Iago, an older officer who
thought he had a better claim than Cassio, and would
often ridicule Cassio as a fellow fit only for the company
of ladies, and one that knew no more of the art of war or
how to set an army in array for battle, than a girl . Iago
hated Cassio, and he hated Othello, as well for favoring
Cassio, as for an unjust suspicion , which he had lightly
taken up against Othello , that the Moor was too fond of
Iago's wife Emilia . From these imaginary provocations,
the plotting mind of Iago conceived a horrid scheme of
revenge, which should involve both Cassio, the Moor, and
Desdemona, in one common ruin .
Iago was artful, and had studied human nature deeply,
and he knew that of all the torments which afflict the
mind of man (and far beyond bodily torture ) , the pains
of jealousy were the most intolerable, and had the sorest
sting. If he could succeed in making Othello jealous of
Cassio, he thought it would be an exquisite plot of re-
venge, and might end in the death of Cassio or Othello,
or both ; he cared not.
The arrival of the general and his lady, in Cyprus,
meeting with the news of the dispersion of the enemy's
280 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

fleet, made a sort of holiday in the island. Everybody

gave themselves up to feasting and making merry. Wine
flowed in abundance, and cups went round to the health
of the black Othello, and his lady the fair Desdemona.
Cassio had the direction of the guard that night, with a
charge from Othello to keep the soldiers from excess in
drinking, that no brawl might arise, to fright the inhabit-
ants, or disgust them with the new-landed forces. That
night Iago began his deep-laid plans of mischief : under
color of loyalty and love to the general, he enticed Cassio
to make rather too free with the bottle (a great fault in
an officer upon guard) . Cassio for a time resisted, but he
could not long hold out against the honest freedom which
Iago knew how to put on, but kept swallowing glass after
glass (as Iago still plied him with drink and encouraging
songs) , and Cassio's tongue ran over in praise of the lady
Desdemona , whom he again and again toasted, affirming
that she was a most exquisite lady : until at last the
enemy which he put into his mouth stole away his brains ;
and upon some provocation given him by a fellow whom
Iago had set on, swords were drawn, and Montano, a
worthy officer, who interfered to appease the dispute, was
wounded in the scuffle.
The riot now began to be general, and Iago, who had
set on foot the mischief, was foremost in spreading the
alarm, causing the castle-bell to be rung (as if some
dangerous mutiny instead of a slight drunken quarrel had
arisen) : the alarm-bell ringing awakened Othello, who,
dressing in a hurry, and coming to the scene of action,
questioned Cassio of the cause. Cassio was now come to
himself, the effect of the wine having a little gone off, but
was too much ashamed to reply ; and Iago, pretending a
great reluctance to accuse Cassio, but, as it were, forced
 OTHELLO. 281

into it by Othello, who insisted to know the truth, gave an

account of the whole matter (leaving out his own share in
it, which Cassio was too far gone to remember) in such a
manner, as while he seemed to make Cassio's offence less ,
did indeed make it appear greater than it was. The result
was, that Othello, who was a strict observer of discipline,
was compelled to take away Cassio's place of lieutenant
from him.
Thus did Iago's first artifice succeed completely ; he
had now undermined his hated rival, and thrust him out
of his place : but a further use was hereafter to be made
of the adventure of this disastrous night.
Cassio, whom this misfortune had entirely sobered, now
lamented to his seeming friend Iago that he should have
been such a fool as to transform himself into a beast. He
was undone, for how could he ask the general for his
place again ? he would tell him he was a drunkard . He
despised himself. Iago, affecting to make light of it, said ,
that he, or any man living, might be drunk upon occasion ;
it remained now to make the best of a bad bargain ; the
general's wife was now the general, and could do any thing
with Othello ; that he were best to apply to the lady Des-
demona to mediate for him with her lord ; that she was
of a frank, obliging disposition , and would readily under-
take a good office of this sort, and set Cassio right again
in the general's favor ; and then this crack in their love
would be made stronger than ever. A good advice of
Iago, if it had not been given for wicked purposes, which
will after appear .
Cassio did as Iago advised him, and made application to
the lady Desdemona, who was easy to be won over in any
honest suit ; and she promised Cassio that she should be
his solicitor with her lord, and rather die than give up his
282 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

cause. This she immediately set about in so earnest and

pretty a manner, that Othello, who was mortally offended
with Cassio, could not put her off. When he pleaded
delay, and that it was too soon to pardon such an offender,
she would not be beat back, but insisted that it should be
the next night, or the morning after, or the next morning
to that at farthest. Then she showed how penitent and
humbled poor Cassio was, and that his offence did not
deserve so sharp a check. And when Othello still hung
back, " What ! my lord," said she, " that I should have so
much to do to plead for Cassio, Michael Cassio, that came
a-courting for you, and oftentimes, when I have spoken in
dispraise of you, has taken your part ! I count this but a
little thing to ask of you. When I mean to try your love
indeed , I shall ask a weighty matter. " Othello could
deny nothing to such a pleader, and only requesting that
Desdemona would leave the time to him, promised to
receive Michael Cassio again in favor.
It happened that Othello and Iago had entered into the
room where Desdemona was, just as Cassio, who had been
imploring her intercession , was departing at the opposite
door : and Iago, who was full of art, said in a low voice,
as if to himself, “ I like not that. " Othello took no great
notice of what he said ; indeed , the conference which
immediately took place with his lady put it out of his
head ; but he remembered it afterwards. For when Des-
demona was gone, Iago, as if for mere satisfaction of his
thought, questioned Othello whether Michael Cassio,
when Othello was courting his lady, knew of his love.
To this the general answering in the affirmative, and add-
ing, that he had gone between them very often during the
courtship, Iago knitted his brow, as if he had got fresh
light on some terrible matter, and cried, " Indeed ! " This
 OTHELLO. 283

brought into Othello's mind the words which Iago had let
fall upon entering the room, and seeing Cassio with Des-
demona ; and he began to think there was some meaning
in all this : for he deemed Iago to be a just man, and full
of love and honesty, and what in a false knave would be
tricks, in him seemed to be the natural workings of an
honest mind, big with something too great for utterance :
and Othello prayed Iago to speak what he knew, and to
give his worst thoughts words. " And what, " said Iago,
"if some thoughts very vile should have intruded into my
breast, as where is the palace into which foul things do
not enter ? " Then Iago went on to say, what a pity it
were, if any trouble should arise to Othello out of his
imperfect observations ; that it would not be for Othello's
peace to know his thoughts ; that people's good names
were not to be taken away for slight suspicions ; and when
Othello's curiosity was raised almost to distraction with
these hints and scattered words, Iago, as if in earnest care
for Othello's peace of mind, besought him to beware of
jealousy with such art did this villain raise suspicions in
the unguarded Othello, by the very caution which he pre-
tended to give him against suspicion . " I know," said
Othello, "that my wife is fair, loves company and feast-
ing, is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well : but
where virtue is, these qualities are virtuous. I must have
proof before I think her dishonest. " Then Iago, as if
glad that Othello was slow to believe ill of his lady,
frankly declared that he had no proof, but begged Othello
to observe her behavior well, when Cassio was by ; not to
be jealous nor too secure neither, for that he (Iago) knew
the dispositions of the Italian ladies, his countrywomen ,
better than Othello could do ; and that in Venice the
wives let heaven see many pranks they dared not show
284 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

their husbands . Then he artfully insinuated that Des-

demona deceived her father in marrying with Othello ,
and carried it so closely, that the poor old man thought
that witchcraft had been used . Othello was much moved
with this argument, which brought the matter home to
him , for if she had deceived her father, why might she not
deceive her husband ?
Iago begged pardon for having moved him ; but Othello,
assuming an indifference , while he was really shaken with
inward grief at Iago's words, begged him to go on, which
Iago did with many apologies, as if unwilling to produce
any thing against Cassio, whom he called his friend : he
then came strongly to the point, and reminded Othello
how Desdemona had refused many suitable matches of
her own clime and complexion , and had married him, a
Moor, which showed unnatural in her, and proved her to
have a headstrong will ; and when her better judgment
returned , how probable it was she should fall upon compar-
ing Othello with the fine forms and clear white complex-
ions of the young Italians her countrymen. He concluded
with advising Othello to put off his reconcilement with
Cassio a little longer, and in the mean while to note with
what earnestness Desdemona should intercede in his
behalf; for that much would be seen in that. So mis-
chievously did this artful villain lay his plots to turn the
gentle qualities of this innocent lady into her destruction,
and make a net for her out of her own goodness to entrap
her: first setting Cassio on to entreat her mediation, and
then out of that very mediation contriving stratagems for
her ruin.
The conference ended with Iago's begging Othello to
account his wife innocent, until he had more decisive
proof ; and Othello promised to be patient ; but from
 OTHELLO. 285

that moment the deceived Othello never tasted content

of mind. Poppy, nor the juice of mandragora, nor all the
sleeping potions in the world , could ever again restore
to him that sweet rest, which he had enjoyed but yester-
day. His occupation sickened upon him. He no longer
took delight in arms. His heart, that used to be roused
at the sight of troops, and banners, and battle-array, and
would stir and leap at the sound of a drum, or a trumpet,
or a neighing war-horse, seemed to have lost all that pride
and ambition which are a soldier's virtue ; and his military
ardor and all his old joys forsook him. Sometimes he
thought his wife honest, and at times he thought her not
so ; sometimes he thought Iago just, and at times he
thought him not so ; then he would wish that he had
never known of it ; he was not the worse for her loving
Cassio, so long as he knew it not : torn to pieces with
these distracting thoughts, he once laid hold on Iago's
throat, and demanded proof of Desdemona's guilt, or threat-
ened instant death for his having belied her. Iago, feign-
ing indignation that his honesty should be taken for a vice,
asked Othello , if he had not sometimes seen a handker-
chief spotted with strawberries in his wife's hand. Othello
answered, that he had given her such a one, and that it
was his first gift. " That same handkerchief," said Iago ,
" did I see Michael Cassio this day wipe his face with . "
"If it be as you say," said Othello, " I will not rest till a
wide revenge swallow them up : and first, for a token of
your fidelity, I expect that Cassio shall be put to death
within three days ; and for that fair devil (meaning his
lady ) , I will withdraw and devise some swift means of
death for her."
Trifles light as air are to the jealous proofs as strong as
holy writ. A handkerchief of his wife's seen in Cassio's
286 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

hand, was motive enough to the deluded Othello to pass

sentence of death upon them both, without once inquiring
how Cassio came by it . Desdemona had never given such
a present to Cassio, nor would this constant lady have
wronged her lord with doing so naughty a thing as giving
his presents to another man ; both Cassio and Desdemona
were innocent of any offence against Othello : but the
wicked Iago, whose spirits never slept in contrivance of
villany, had made his wife ( a good, but a weak woman )
steal this handkerchief from Desdemona, under pretence of
getting the work copied, but in reality to drop it in Cassio's
way, where he might find it, and give a handle to Iago's
suggestion that it was Desdemona's present.
Othello, soon after meeting his wife , pretended that he
had a headache (as he might indeed with truth) , and
desired her to lend him her handkerchief to hold to his
temples. She did so. "Not this," said Othello , " but
that handkerchief I gave you ." Desdemona had it not
about her (for indeed it was stolen , as we have related) .
" How ?" said Othello, " this is a fault indeed . That
handkerchief an Egyptian woman gave to my mother ; the
woman was a witch and could read people's thoughts : she
told my mother, while she kept it, it would make her ami-
able, and my father would love her ; but, if she lost it, or
gave it away, my father's fancy would turn, and he would
loathe her as much as he had loved her. She dying gave
it to me, and bade me , if I ever married , to give it to my
wife . I did so ; take heed of it. Make it a darling as
precious as your eye." " Is it possible ? " said the frighted
lady. ""Tis true," continued Othello ; " it is a magical
handkerchief ; a sibyl that had lived in the world two
hundred years, in a fit of prophetic fury worked it ; the
silkworms that furnished the silk were hallowed, and it
 OTHELLO. 287

was dyed in a mummy of maidens' hearts conserved."

Desdemona, hearing the wondrous virtues of the handker-
chief, was ready to die with fear, for she plainly perceived
she had lost it, and with it, she feared, the affections of her
husband. Then Othello started , and looked as if he were
going to do some rash thing, and still he demanded the
handkerchief, which when she could not produce, she tried
to divert her husband from too serious thoughts, and
cheerfully told him she saw all his talk about the hand-
kerchief was only to put her off from her suit about
Michael Cassio, whom she went on to praise (as Iago had
foretold) , till Othello in perfect distraction burst out of
the room, and then Desdemona , though unwillingly, began
to suspect that her lord was jealous.
What cause she could have ministered to him she knew
not, and then she accused herself for accusing the noble
Othello, and thought to be sure that some untoward news
from Venice, or some state troubles had puddled his
spirits, and made his temper not so sweet as formerly.
And she said, " Men are not gods, and we must not look
for that observance from them when they are married ,
which they show us on the bridal day." And she be-
shrewed herself for so unkindly judging of his unkind-
ness .
Again Othello and Desdemona met, and he accused her
more plainly of being unfaithful, and of loving another
man, but he did not name whom and Othello wept, and
Desdemona said, " Alas ! the heavy day ! why do you
weep ? " And Othello told her, he could have borne all
sorts of evils with fortitude - poverty, and disease , and
disgrace ; but her infidelity had broken his heart : and
he called her a weed, that looked so fair , and smelled so
sweet, that the sense ached at it ; and wished she had
288 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

never been born. And when he had left her, this inno-
cent lady was so stupefied with wonder at her lord's un-
true suspicion of her, that a weight-like sleep came over
her, and she only desired her attendant to make her bed,
and to lay her wedding-sheets upon it, saying, that when
people teach their babes, they do it by gentle means and
easy tasks, and Othello might have chid her so ; for in
good faith she was but a child when she was chidden.
And this was all the complaint which this gentle lady
made.
Desdemona being retired to bed expecting her lord
would follow her, soon fell into a slumber, the effect of
her troubled spirits , when Othello entered the chamber,
full of the black purpose which he had meditated of put-
ting his lady to death . But when he saw her asleep, he
thought he would not shed her blood, nor scar that white
skin of hers, more white than alabaster. But he was
resolved she should die ; else (as he said) she would live
to betray more men, as she had done him. Then he
kissed her for the last time (as he said) , and that kiss
was so sweet, that he must needs kiss her again : and he
wept, but he said they were cruel tears.
Desdemona was awakened with his kisses, and she
looked upon Othello, and she saw him gnaw his under
lip, and roll his eyes, and she knew he was always fatal
when he looked so : and he bade her prepare for death ,
and to say her prayers, for he would not kill her soul .
And this innocent wife, as she lay at his mercy, begged
for compassion, and to know her fault, and then he named
Cassio, and the handkerchief which (he said) she had
given him ; and as the guiltless lady was proceeding to
clear herself he suddenly would hear no more, but cover-
ing her up in the bed-clothes, stifled her till she died .
 OTHELLO . 289

In this instant of time was brought into the house

Cassio, wounded and bleeding, whom Iago had set one
of his creatures on to assassinate ; but the fellow not suc-
ceeding in his attempt to kill Cassio (whom he wounded,
but not mortally) , and being himself killed by Iago to
prevent discovery, in his pockets were found certain let-
ters, which made the guilt of Iago, and the innocence of
Cassio, clear beyond all doubt ; and Cassio now came to
beg pardon of Othello, and to ask wherein he had of-
fended him, that he had employed Iago to murder him .
This discovery was as a thunderstroke to Othello , who
now plainly saw that he was no better than a murderer ,
and that his wife (poor innocent lady) had been ever
faithful to him ; the extreme anguish of which discovery
making life insupportable, he fell upon his sword, and
throwing himself upon the body of his dear injured lady,
expired.
These rash acts raised much passion of horror and
amazement in the bystanders, for Othello had borne a
fair reputation , and till he was wrought upon by the arts
of a villain, which his own noble nature never gave him
leave to suspect, he was a loving and a doting husband .
He had loved not wisely, but too well ; and his manly
eyes (when he learned his mistake) , though not used to
weep on every small occasion, dropped tears as fast as
the Arabian trees their gum. And when he was dead all
his former merits and his valiant acts were remembered .
Nothing now remained for his successor but to put the
utmost censure of the law in force against Iago, who was
executed with strict tortures ; and to send word to the
state of Venice of the lamentable death of their renowned
general.
290 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

PERICLES , PRINCE OF TYRE .

PERICLES , prince of Tyre, became a voluntary exile

from his dominions, to avert the dreadful calamities
which Antiochus, the wicked emperor of Greece, threat-
ened to bring upon his subjects and city of Tyre , in re-
venge for a discovery which the prince had made of a
shocking deed which the emperor had done in secret ; as
commonly it proves dangerous to pry into the hidden
crimes of great ones. Leaving the government of his
people in the hands of his able and honest minister,
Helicanus, Pericles set sail from Tyre, thinking to absent
himself till the wrath of Antiochus, who was mighty,
should be appeased .
The first place which the prince directed his course to
was Tarsus, and hearing that the city of Tarsus was at
that time suffering under a severe famine, he took with
him store of provisions for its relief. On his arrival he
found the city reduced to the utmost distress ; and, he
coming like a messenger from heaven with his unhoped-
for succor, Cleon the governor of Tarsus, welcomed him
with boundless thanks. Pericles had not been here many
days, before letters came from his faithful minister, warn-
ing him that it was not safe for him to stay at Tarsus ,
for Antiochus knew of his abode, and by secret emissa-
ries despatched for that purpose sought his life . Upon
receipt of these letters Pericles put out to sea again.
 PERICLES . 291

amidst the blessings and prayers of a whole people who

had been fed by his bounty.
He had not sailed far, when his ship was overtaken by
a dreadful storm , and every man on board perished except
Pericles, who was cast by the sea-waves naked on an un-
known shore, where he had not wandered long before he
met with some poor fishermen , who invited him to their
homes, giving him clothes and provisions . The fishermen
told Pericles the name of their country was Pentapolis,
and that their king was Simonides, commonly called the
good Simonides, because of his peaceable reign and good
government. From them he also learned that king Simon-
ides had a fair young daughter, and that the following day
was her birthday, when a grand tournament was to be held
at court, many princes and knights being come from all
parts to try their skill in arms for the love of Thaisa, this
fair princess . While the prince was listening to this
account, and secretly lamenting the loss of his good armor,
which disabled him from making one among these valiant
knights, another fisherman brought in a complete suit of
armor that he had taken out of the sea with his fishing-
net, which proved to be the very armor he had lost.
When Pericles beheld his own armor, he said , " Thanks,
Fortune ; after all my crosses you give me somewhat to
repair myself. This armor was bequeathed to me by my
dead father, for whose dear sake I have so loved it, that
whithersoever I went, I still have kept it by me, and the
rough sea that parted it from me, having now become
calm , hath given it back again, for which I thank it, for,
since I have my father's gift again, I think my shipwreck
no misfortune .”
The next day Pericles , clad in his brave father's armor,
repaired to the royal court of Simonides, where he per-
292 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

formed wonders at the tournament, vanquishing with ease

all the brave knights and valiant princes who contended
with him in arms for the honor of Thaisa's love. When
brave warriors contended at court-tournaments for the
love of kings ' daughters, if one proved sole victor over all
the rest, it was usual for the great lady for whose sake
these deeds of valor were undertaken, to bestow all her
respect upon the conqueror, and Thaisa did not depart
from this custom, for she presently dismissed all the
princes and knights whom Pericles had vanquished , and
distinguished him by her especial favor and regard, crown-
ing him with the wreath of victory, as king of that day's
happiness ; and Pericles became a most passionate lover of
this beauteous princess from the first moment he beheld
her.
The good Simonides so well approved of the valor and
noble qualities of Pericles, who was indeed a most accom-
plished gentleman , and well learned in all excellent arts ,
that though he knew not the rank of this royal stranger
(for Pericles for fear of Antiochus gave out that he was
a private gentleman of Tyre) , yet did not Simonides dis-
dain to accept of the valiant unknown for a son -in-law,
when he perceived his daughter's affections were firmly
fixed upon him.
Pericles had not been many months married to Thaisa ,
before he received intelligence that his enemy Antiochus
was dead ; and that his subjects of Tyre, impatient of his
long absence, threatened to revolt, and talked of placing
Helicanus upon his vacant throne . This news came from
Helicanus himself, who, being a loyal subject to his royal
master, would not accept of the high dignity offered him,
but sent to let Pericles know their intentions, that he
might return home and resume his lawful right. It was
 PERICLES . 293

matter of great surprise and joy to Simonides, to find that

his son-in-law (the obscure knight) was the renowned
prince of Tyre ; yet again he regretted that he was not the
private gentleman he supposed him to be, seeing that he
must now part both with his admired son-in-law and his
beloved daughter, whom he feared to trust to the perils
of the sea, because Thaisa was in delicate health ; and
Pericles himself wished her to remain with her father until
she should recover ; but the poor lady so earnestly desired
to go with her husband, that at last they consented , hoping
she would reach Tyre without serious consequences .
The sea was no friendly element to unhappy Pericles,
for long before they reached Tyre another dreadful tem-
pest arose, which so terrified Thaisa that she was taken
ill, and in a short space of time her nurse Lychorida came
to Pericles with a little child in her arms, to tell the prince
the sad tidings that his wife died the moment her little
babe was born. She held the babe towards its father,
saying, " Here is a thing too young for such a place . This
is the child of your dead queen." No tongue can tell the
dreadful sufferings of Pericles when he heard his wife was
dead . As soon as he could speak, he said, " O you gods,
why do you make us love your goodly gifts, and then
snatch those gifts away ? " "Patience, good sir," said
Lychorida, " here is all that is left alive of our dead queen,
a little daughter , and for your child's sake be more manly.
Patience, good sir, even for the sake of this precious
charge." Pericles took the new-born infant in his arms,
and he said to the little babe, " Now may your life be mild,
for a more blusterous birth had never babe ! May your
condition be mild and gentle, for you have had the rudest
welcome that ever prince's child did meet with ! May
that which follows be happy, for you have had as chiding
294 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

a nativity as fire, air, water, earth, and heaven could make

to herald your birth ! Even at the first, your loss,” mean
ing in the death of her mother, " is more than all theys ,
which you shall find upon this earth to which y
99
come a new visitor, shall be able to recompense.'
The storm still continuing to rage furiously, and the
sailors having a superstition that while a dead body re-
mained in the ship the storm would never cease, they
came to Pericles to demand that his queen should be
thrown overboard ; and they said, " What courage , sir ?
God save you ! " " Courage enough," said the sorrowing
prince : " I do not fear the storm ; it has done to me its
worst ; yet for the love of this poor infant, this fresh new
seafarer, I wish the storm was over." " Sir," said the
sailors, " your queen must overboard. The sea works
high, the wind is loud, and the storm will not abate till
the ship be cleared of the dead. " Though Pericles knew
how weak and unfounded this superstition was, yet he
patiently submitted, saying, " As you think meet. Then
she must overboard, most wretched queen ! " And now
this unhappy prince went to take a last view of his
dear wife, and as he looked on his Thaisa, he said, " A
terrible sickness hast thou had , my dear ; no light, no fire ;
the unfriendly elements forget thee utterly, nor have I
time to bring thee hallowed to thy grave, but must cast
thee scarcely coffined into the sea, where for a monument
upon thy bones the humming waters must overwhelm thy
corpse, lying with simple shells. O Lychorida, bid Nestor
bring me spices, ink, and paper, my casket and my jewels,
and bid Nicandor bring me the satin coffin. Lay the babe
upon the pillow, and go about this suddenly, Lychorida,
while I say a priestly farewell to my Thaisa."
They brought Pericles a large chest, in which (wrapped
 PERICLES . 295

in a satin shroud) he placed his queen, and sweet-smelling

spices he strewed over her, and beside her he placed rich
jewe¹ and a written paper , telling who she was, and pray-
aply any one should find the chest which contained .
the body of his wife, they would give her burial : and then
with his own hands, he cast the chest into the sea. When
the storm was over, Pericles ordered the sailors to make
for Tarsus. " For," said Pericles, " the babe cannot hold
out till we come to Tyre. At Tarsus I will leave it at
careful nursing."
After that tempestuous night when Thaisa was thrown
into the sea, and while it was yet early morning, as Ceri-
mon, a worthy gentleman of Ephesus, and a most skilful
physician , was standing by the sea-side , his servants
brought to him a chest, which they said the sea-waves had
thrown on the land. " I never saw," said one of them ,
"so huge a billow as cast it on our shore ." Cerimon
ordered the chest to be conveyed to his own house, and
when it was opened he beheld with wonder the body of a
young and lovely lady ; and the sweet-smelling spices and
rich casket of jewels made him conclude it was some great
person who was thus strangely entombed : searching
farther, he discovered a paper, from which he learned that
the corpse which lay as dead before him had been a queen ,
and wife to Pericles, prince of Tyre ; and much admiring
at the strangeness of that accident, and more pitying the
husband who had lost this sweet lady, he said , “ If you
are living, Pericles, you have a heart that even cracks with
woe." Then observing attentively Thaisa's face , he saw
how fresh and unlike death her looks were, and he said ,
"They were too hasty that threw you into the sea : " for
he did not believe her to be dead. He ordered a fire to
be made, and proper cordials to be brought, and soft music
296 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

to be played, which might help to calm her amazed spirits

if she should revive ; and he said to those who crowded
round her, wondering at what they saw, " I pray you, gen-
tlemen, give her air ; this queen will live ; she has not been
entranced above five hours ; and see, she begins to blow
into life again ; she is alive ; behold , her eyelids move ; this
fair creature will live to make us weep to hear her fate ."
Thaisa had never died, but after the birth of her little
baby had fallen into a deep swoon, which made all that
saw her conclude her to be dead ; and now by the care of
this kind gentleman she once more revived to light and
life ; and opening her eyes, she said, " Where am I ?
Where is my lord ? What world is this ? " By gentle
degrees Cerimon let her understand what had befallen
her ; and when he thought she was enough recovered to
bear the sight, he showed her the paper written by her
husband, and the jewels ; and she looked on the paper, and
said , “ It is my lord's writing. That I was shipped at sea,
I well remember, but whether there delivered of my babe,
by the holy gods I cannot rightly say ; but since my
wedded lord I never shall see again, I will put on a vestal
livery, and nevermore have joy." " Madam," said Ceri-
mon, " if you purpose as you speak, the temple of Diana
is not far distant from hence ; there you may abide as a
vestal. Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine shall
there attend you." This proposal was accepted with
thanks by Thaisa ; and when she was perfectly recovered ,
Cerimon placed her in the temple of Diana, where she
became a vestal or priestess of that goddess, and passed
her days in sorrowing for her husband's supposed loss, and
in the most devout exercises of those times.
Pericles carried his young daughter ( whom he named
Marina, because she was born at sea) to Tarsus, intending
 PERICLES. 297

to leave her with Cleon , the governor of that city, and his
wife Dionysia, thinking, for the good he had done to them
at the time of their famine, they would be kind to his little
motherless daughter . When Cleon saw prince Pericles ,
and heard of the great loss which had befallen him, he
66
said, " O your sweet queen, that it had pleased Heaven
.
you could have brought her hither to have blessed my
eyes with the sight of her ! " Pericles replied , " We must
obey the powers above us. Should I rage and roar as the
sea does in which my Thaisa lies , yet the end must be as
it is. My gentle babe, Marina here , I must charge your
charity with her . I leave her the infant of your care,
beseeching you to give her princely training. " And then
turning to Cleon's wife, Dionysia, he said, " Good madam,
make me blessed in your care in bringing up my child " :
and she answered, " I have a child myself who shall not be
more dear to my respect than yours, my lord " ; and Cleon
made the like promise, saying, " Your noble services ,
prince Pericles, in feeding my whole people with your
corn (for which in their prayers they daily remember you)
must in your child be thought on. If I should neglect
your child, my whole people that were by you relieved
would force me to my duty ; but if to that I need a spur,
the gods revenge it on me and mine to the end of genera-
tion ." Pericles , being thus assured that his child would
be carefully attended to, left her to the protection of
Cleon and his wife Dionysia, and with her he left the
nurse Lychorida. When he went away, the little Marina
knew not her loss, but Lychorida wept sadly at parting
with her royal master. " O, no tears, Lychorida," said
Pericles : " no tears ; look to your little mistress, on
whose grace you may depend hereafter."
Pericles arrived in safety at Tyre, and was once more
298 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

settled in the quiet possession of his throne, while his

woful queen , whom he thought dead, remained at Ephe-
sus. Her little babe Marina, whom this hapless mother
had never seen, was brought up by Cleon in a manner
suitable to her high birth. He gave her the most careful
education, so that by the time Marina attained the age
of fourteen years, the most deeply-learned men were not
more studied in the learning of those times than was
Marina. She sang like one immortal, and danced as
goddess-like , and with her needle she was so skilful that
she seemed to compose nature's own shapes, in birds,
fruits, or flowers, the natural roses being scarcely more
like to each other than they were to Marina's silken
flowers. But when she had gained from education all
these graces, which made her the general wonder, Diony-
sia, the wife of Cleon, became her mortal enemy from
jealousy, by reason that her own daughter, from the slow-
ness of her mind, was not able to attain to that perfection
wherein Marina excelled : and finding that all praise was
bestowed on Marina, whilst her daughter, who was of the
same age, and had been educated with the same care as
Marina, though not with the same success, was in com-
parison disregarded, she formed a project to remove
Marina out of the way, vainly imagining that her
untoward daughter would be more respected when Marina
was no more seen. To encompass this she employed a
man to murder Marina, and she well timed her wicked
design, when Lychorida, the faithful nurse , had just died.
Dionysia was discoursing with the man she had com-
manded to commit this murder, when the young Marina
was weeping over the dead Lychorida . Leonine , the man
she employed to do this bad deed, though he was a very
wicked man, could hardly be persuaded to undertake it,
 PERICLES . 299

so had Marina won all hearts to love her. He said, " She
is a goodly creature ! " " The fitter then the gods should
have her," replied her merciless enemy : " here she comes.
weeping for the death of her nurse Lychorida : are you
resolved to obey me ? " Leonine, fearing to disobey her,
replied , " I am resolved." And so, in that one short sen-
tence , was the matchless Marina doomed to an untimely
death. She now approached, with a basket of flowers in
her hand, which she said she would daily strew over the
grave of good Lychorida. The purple violet and the
marigold should as a carpet hang upon her grave, while
summer days did last. "Alas, for me ! " she said, " poor
unhappy maid , born in a tempest, when my mother died .
This world to me is like a lasting storm, hurrying me from
my friends." “ How now, Marina," said the dissembling
Dionysia, " do you weep alone ? How does it chance my
daughter is not with you ? Do not sorrow for Lychorida,
you have a nurse in me. Your beauty is quite changed
with this unprofitable woe. Come, give me your flowers ,
the sea-air will spoil them ; and walk with Leonine : the
air is fine, and will enliven you. Come, Leonine, take her
by the arm, and walk with her." " No, madam ," said
Marina, " I pray you let me not deprive you of your ser-
vant " : for Leonine was one of Dionysia's attendants.
"Come, come," said this artful woman, who wished for a
pretence to leave her alone with Leonine, " I love the
prince, your father, and I love you. We every day
expect your father here ; and when he comes, and finds
you so changed by grief from the paragon of beauty we
reported you , he will think we have taken no care of you.
Go, I pray you, walk, and be cheerful once again . Be
careful of that excellent complexion, which stole the
hearts of old and young." Marina, being thus impor
 300 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

tuned , said, “ Well, I will go , but yet I have no desire to

it." As Dionysia walked away, she said to Leonine,
" Remember what I have said ! " -shocking words, for
their meaning was that he should remember to kill
Marina.

x Marina looked towards the sea, her birthplace, and said,

" Is the wind westerly that blows ? " " South-west," re-
plied Leonine. "When I was born the wind was north,"
said she and then the storm and tempest, and all her
father's sorrows, and her mother's death, came full into
her mind ; and she said, " My father, as Lychorida told
me, did never fear, but cried, Courage, good seamen, to the
sailors, galling his princely hands with the ropes, and,
clasping to the masts, he endured a sea that almost split
the deck." "When was this ? " said Leonine . " When I
was born," replied Marina : " never were wind and waves
more violent " ; and then she described the storm, the
action of the sailors, the boatswain's whistle , and the loud
call of the master, " which," said she , " trebled the confus-
ion of the ship." Lychorida had so often recounted to
Marina the story of her hapless birth that these things
seemed ever present to her imagination . But here Leo-
nine interrupted her with desiring her to say her prayers .
“ What mean you ? " said Marina, who began to fear, she
knew not why. " If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it," said Leonine ; " but be not tedious, the gods
are quick of ear, and I am sworn to do my work in haste.”
"Will you kill me ? " said Marina : " alas ! why ? " " To
satisfy my lady, " replied Leonine . "Why would she have
me killed ?" said Marina : " now, as I can remember, I
never hurt her in all my life . I never spake bad word,
nor did any ill turn to any living creature. Believe me
now, I never killed a mouse, nor hurt a fly. I trod upon
 PERICLES . 301

a worm once against my will, but I wept for it. " How
have I offended ? " The murderer replied, " My commis-
sion is not to reason on the deed , but to do it." And he
was just going to kill her, when certain pirates happened
to land at that very moment, who seeing Marina, bore her
off as a prize to their ship.
The pirate who had made Marina his prize carried her to
Mitylene, and sold her for a slave , where , though in that
humble condition, Marina soon became known throughout
the whole city of Mitylene for her beauty and her virtues ;
and the person to whom she was sold became rich by the
money she earned for him. She taught music, dancing ,
and fine needleworks, and the money she got by her
scholars she gave to her master and mistress ; and the
fame of her learning and her great industry came to the
knowledge of Lysimachus, a young nobleman who was
governor of Mitylene, and Lysimachus went himself to the
house where Marina dwelt, to see this paragon of excel- .
lence, whom all the city praised so highly. Her conversa-
tion delighted Lysimachus beyond measure, for though he
had heard much of this admired maiden, he did not expect
to find her so sensible a lady, so virtuous, and so good, as
he perceived Marina to be ; and he left her, saying, he
hoped she would persevere in her industrious and virtuous
course, and that if ever she heard from him again it
should be for her good. Lysimachus thought Marina
such a miracle for sense, fine breeding, and excellent
qualities, as well as for beauty and all outward graces,
that he wished to marry her, and notwithstanding her
humble situation, he hoped to find that her birth was
noble ; but ever when they asked her parentage she would
sit still and weep .
Meantime, at Tarsus, Leonine, fearing the anger of
302 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

Dionysia, told her he had killed Marina ; and that wicked

woman gave out that she was dead, and made a pretended
funeral for her, and erected a stately monument ; and
shortly after Pericles, accompanied by his loyal minister
Helicanus, made a voyage from Tyre to Tarsus, on pur-
pose to see his daughter, intending to take her home with
him and he never having beheld her since he left her an
infant in the care of Cleon and his wife, how did this
good prince rejoice at the thought of seeing this dear child
of his buried queen ! but when they told him Marina was
dead, and showed the monument they had erected for her,
great was the misery this most wretched father endured,
and not being able to bear the sight of that country where
his last hope and only memory of his dear Thaisa was
entombed, he took ship, and hastily departed from Tarsus.
From the day he entered the ship a dull and heavy melan-
choly seized him . He never spoke, and seemed totally
insensible to every thing around him .
Sailing from Tarsus to Tyre, the ship in its course
passed by Mitylene, where Marina dwelt ; the governor of
which place, Lysimachus, observing this royal vessel from
the shore, and desirous of knowing who was on board,
went in a barge to the side of the ship, to satisfy his
curiosity. Helicanus received him very courteously and
told him that the ship came from Tyre, and that they
were conducting thither Pericles, their prince ; " A man,
sir," said Helicanus, " who has not spoken to any one
these three months, nor taken any sustenance, but just to
prolong his grief; it would be tedious to repeat the whole
ground of his distemper, but the main springs from the
loss of a beloved daughter and a wife." Lysimachus
begged to see this afflicted prince, and when he beheld
Pericles, he saw he had been once a goodly person , and he
 PERICLES . 303

said to him, " Sir king, all hail, the gods preserve you,
hail, royal sir ! " But in vain Lysimachus spoke to him ;
Pericles made no answer, nor did he appear to perceive
any stranger approached . And then Lysimachus be-
thought him of the peerless maid Marina, that haply with
her sweet tongue she might win some answer from the
silent prince and with the consent of Helicanus he sent
for Marina, and when she entered the ship in which her
own father sat motionless with grief, they welcomed her
on board as if they had known she was their princess ;
and they cried , " She is a gallant lady." Lysimachus was
well pleased to hear their commendations , and he said ,
" She is such a one, that were I well assured she came of
noble birth, I would wish no better choice, and think me
rarely blessed in a wife." And then he addressed her in
courtly terms, as if the lowly-seeming maid had been the
high-born lady he wished to find her, calling her Fair and
beautiful Marina, telling her a great prince on board that
ship had fallen into a sad and mournful silence ; and , as if
Marina had the power of conferring health and felicity, he
begged she would undertake to cure the royal stranger of
his melancholy. " Sir," said Marina, " I will use my
utmost skill in his recovery, provided none but I and my
maid be suffered to come near him ."
She , who at Mitylene had so carefully concealed her
birth, ashamed to tell that one of royal ancestry was now
a slave, first began to speak to Pericles of the wayward
changes in her own fate, telling him from what a high
estate herself had fallen . As if she had known it was her
royal father she stood before, all the words she spoke
were of her own sorrows ; but her reason for so doing
was, that she knew nothing more wins the attention of the
unfortunate than the recital of some sad calamity to
304 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

match their own. The sound of her sweet voice aroused

the drooping prince ; he lifted up his eyes, which had
been so long fixed and motionless ; and Marina, who was
the perfect image of her mother, presented to his amazed
sight the features of his dead queen. The long-silent
prince was once more heard to speak. " My dearest
wife," said the awakened Pericles, " was like this maid
and such a one might my daughter have been . My
queen's square brows, her stature to an inch, as wand-like
straight, as silver-voiced, her eyes as jewel-like . Where
do . you live, young maid? Report your parentage, I think
you said you had been tossed from wrong to injury, and
that you thought your griefs would equal mine, if both
were opened." " Some such thing I said," replied Marina,
" and said no more than what my thoughts did warrant
me as likely." " Tell me your story," answered Pericles ;
"if I find you have known the thousandth part of my
endurance, you have borne your sorrows like a man , and
I have suffered like a girl ; yet you do look like Patience
gazing on kings' graves, and smiling extremity out of act.
How lost you your name, my most kind virgin ? Recount
your story I beseech you. Come, sit by me." How was
Pericles surprised when she said her name was Marina,
for he knew it was no usual name , but had been invented
66
by himself for his own child to signify seaborn : “ O, I am
mocked," said he, " and you are sent hither by some
incensed god to make the world laugh at me." " Patience ,
good sir," said Marina, " or I must cease here. " " Nay,"
said Pericles, “ I will be patient ; you little know how you
do startle me, to call yourself Marina ." " The name," she
replied , " was given me by one that had some power, my
father, and a king." " How, a king's daughter ! " said
Pericles, " and called Marina ! But are you flesh and
 PERICLES . 305

blood ? Are you no fairy ? Speak on ; where were you

born ? and wherefore called Marina ? " She replied, " I
was called Marina, because I was born at sea. My mother
was the daughter of a king ; she died the minute I was
born, as my good nurse Lychorida has often told me weep-
ing. The king, my father, left me at Tarsus , till the cruel
wife of Cleon sought to murder me. A crew of pirates
came and rescued me, and brought me here to Mitylene .
But, good sir, why do you weep ? It may be, you think
me an impostor. But, indeed, sir, I am the daughter to
king Pericles, if good king Pericles be living."
Then Pericles, terrified as he seemed at his own sudden
joy, and doubtful if this could be real, loudly called for
his attendants , who rejoiced at the sound of their beloved
king's voice ; and he said to Helicanus, " O Helicanus,
strike me, give me a gash, put me to present pain , lest
this great sea of joys rushing upon me, overbear the shores
of my mortality. Oh, come hither, thou that was born at
sea, buried at Tarsus, and found at sea again . O Heli-
canus, down on your knees, thank the holy gods ! This
is Marina. Now blessings on thee, my child ! Give me
fresh garments, mine own Helicanus ! She is not dead at
Tarsus as she should have been by the savage Dionysia .
She shall tell you all, when you shall kneel to her, and
call her your very princess . Who is this ? " (observing
Lysimachus for the first time. ) " Sir," said Helicanus ,
"it is the governor of Mitylene, who, hearing of your
melancholy, came to see you." " I embrace you, sir," said
Pericles. " Give me my robes ! I am well with beholding
-O heaven bless my girl ! But hark, what music is
that ? " for now, either sent by some kind god, or by
his own delighted fancy deceived, he seemed to hear soft
music . " My lord , I hear none," replied Helicanus.
306 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE .

"None ? " said Pericles ; " why it is the music of the

spheres." As there was no music to be heard , Lysimachus
concluded that the sudden joy had unsettled the prince's
understanding ; and he said, " It is not good to cross him :
let him have his way " : and then they told him they heard
the music ; and he now complaining of a drowsy slumber
coming over him, Lysimachus persuaded him to rest on a
couch, and placing a pillow under his head , he, quite over-
powered with excess of joy, sank into a sound sleep, and
Marina watched in silence by the couch of her sleeping
parent.
While he slept, Pericles dreamed a dream which made
him resolve to go to Ephesus. His dream was, that
Diana, the goddess of the Ephesians, appeared to him,
and commanded him to go to her temple at Ephesus, and
there before her altar to declare the story of his life and
misfortunes ; and by her silver bow she swore, that if he
performed her injunction, he should meet with some rare
felicity. When he awoke, being miraculously refreshed ,
he told his dream, and that his resolution was to obey the
bidding of the goddess .
Then Lysimachus invited Pericles to come on shore,
and refresh himself with such entertainment as he should
find at Mitylene, which courteous offer Pericles accepting,
agreed to tarry with him for the space of a day or two .
During which time we may well suppose what feastings,
what rejoicings, what costly shows and entertainments the
governor made in Mitylene, to greet the royal father of
his dear Marina , whom in her obscure fortunes he had so
respected . Nor did Pericles frown upon Lysimachus ' suit,
when he understood how he had honored his child in the
days of her low estate, and that Marina showed herself not
averse to his proposals ; only he made it a condition , before
 PERICLES. 307

he gave his consent, that they should visit with him the
shrine of the Ephesian Diana : to whose temple they
shortly after all three undertook a voyage ; and, the
goddess herself filling their sails with prosperous winds,
after a few weeks they arrived in safety at Ephesus.
There was standing near the altar of the goddess, when
Pericles with his train entered the temple, the good Ceri-
mon (now grown very aged) who had restored Thaisa, the
wife of Pericles, to life ; and Thaisa, now a priestess of the
temple, was standing before the altar ; and though the many
years he had passed in sorrow for her loss had much altered
Pericles, Thaisa thought she knew her husband's features,
and when he approached the altar and began to speak,
she remembered his voice, and listened to his words with
wonder and a joyful amazement. And these were the
words that Pericles spoke before the altar : “ Hail, Diana !
to perform thy just commands, I here confess myself the
prince of Tyre, who, frighted from my country, at Pentapo-
lis wedded the fair Thaisa : she died at sea in child-bed,
but brought forth a maid-child called Marina. She at
Tarsus was nursed with Dionysia, who at fourteen years
thought to kill her, but her better stars brought her to
Mitylene, by whose shores as I sailed , her good fortunes
brought this maid on board, where by her most clear
remembrance she made herself known to be my daughter."
Thaisa, unable to bear the transports which his words
had raised in her, cried out, " You are, you are, O royal
Pericles " - and fainted . "What means this woman ? "
said Pericles : " she dies ! gentlemen, help ." - " Sir," said
Cerimon, " if you have told Diana's altar true, this is your
wife." " Reverend gentlemen, no ; " said Pericles : " I
threw her overboard with these very arms." Cerimon
then recounted how, early one tempestuous morning, this
308 TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE.

lady was thrown upon the Ephesian shore ; how, opening

the coffin, he found therein rich jewels, and a paper ; how,
happily, he recovered her, and placed her here in Diana's
temple. And now, Thaisa being restored from her swoon
said , " O my lord, are you not Pericles ? Like him you
speak, like him you are. Did you not name a tempest,
a birth, and death ? " He astonished said, " The voice of
dead Thaisa ! " " That Thaisa am I," she replied, “ sup-
posed dead and drowned." " O true Diana ! " exclaimed
Pericles, in a passion of devout astonishment. " And
now," said Thaisa, " I know you better. Such a ring as
I see on your finger did the king my father give you,
when we with tears parted from him at Pentapolis."
" Enough, you gods ! " cried Pericles, " your present
kindness makes my past miseries sport. O come, Thaisa,
99
be buried a second time within these arms .
And Marina said, " My heart leaps to be gone into my
mother's bosom." Then did Pericles show his daughter
to her mother, saying, " Look who kneels here, flesh of
thy flesh, thy burthen at sea, and called Marina , because
she was yielded there ." " Blessed and my own ! " said
Thaisa and while she hung in rapturous joy over her
child, Pericles knelt before the altar, saying, “ Pure
Diana bless thee for thy vision . For this, I will offer
oblations nightly to thee." And then and there did
Pericles, with the consent of Thaisa, solemnly affiance
their daughter, the virtuous Marina, to the well-deserving
Lysimachus in marriage.
Thus have we seen in Pericles, his queen, and daugh-
ter, a famous example of virtue assailed by calamity
(through the sufferance of Heaven, to teach patience and
constancy to men ) , under the same guidance becoming
finally successful, and triumphing over chance and
 PERICLES. 309

change. In Helicanus we have beheld a notable pattern

of truth , of faith, and loyalty, who, when he might have
succeeded to a throne, chose rather to recall the rightful
owner to his possession, than to become great by
another's wrong.
In the worthy Cerimon, who restored
Thaisa to life, we are instructed how goodness directed
by knowledge, in bestowing benefits upon mankind , ap-
proaches to the nature of the gods. It only remains to
be told, that Dionysia, the wicked wife of Cleon, met
with an end proportionable to her deserts ; the inhabit-
ants of Tarsus, when her cruel attempt upon Marina was
known, rising in a body to revenge the daughter of their
benefactor, and setting fire to the palace of Cleon, burnt
both him and her, and their whole household : the gods
seeming well pleased , that so foul a murder, though but
intentional, and never carried into act, should be pun-
ished in a way befitting its enormity.
308 TALES FROM SHAKESPEA

lady was thrown upon the Ephesian sl.

the coffin, he found therein rich jewels .
happily, he recovered her, and placed i
temple. And now, Thaisa being resto
said, " O my lord, are you not Pericl
speak, like him you are. Did you 11
a birth, and death ? " He astonished -
dead Thaisa ! " " That Thaisa am I,
posed dead and drowned." " O true
Pericles, in a passion of devout
now," said Thaisa, " I know you bet
I see on your finger did the king
when we with tears parted from
" Enough, you gods ! " cried Peri
kindness makes my past miseries s
be buried a second time within thes
And Marina said, " My heart le
mother's bosom." Then did Peri
to her mother, saying, " Look wh
thy flesh, thy burthen at sea, and
she was yielded there." "Bles
Thaisa and while she hung in
child, Pericles knelt before
Diana bless thee for thy vision
oblations nightly to thee."
Pericles, with the consent of
their daughter, the virtuous M.
Lysimachus in marriage.
Thus have we seen in Peri
ter, a famous example of
(through the sufferance of I'
constancy to men ) , under
finally successful, and tr
change. Hi
of truth
succeeded
owner t
another's
Thaisa to
by koon
proaci
be tald
with an
ants of
know
benefacial
both
seeming
intentio
ished
 PRONOUNCING INDEX OF PROPER NAMES .

Ad-ri-an'-a. Dro'-mi-o. Ly-san'-der.

Ae-gel-on. E-ge'-us Mam-il'-lus.
Al-ci-bi'-a-des. Eg '-la-mour Ma-ri '- na
A-li-e'-na. Eph '-e-sus. Mil'-an.
An-tig'-o-nus. Ep-i-dam'-num. Mit-y-le' -ne.
An-ti'-o- chus. Fi-dele'. Ne-ris'-sa.
An-tiph'-o-lus. Fle'-ance. Ŏb'-e-ron.
An-to'-ni-o. Flor'-i-zel. Or-si'-no.
Ar'-a-gon. Gan'-y-me'-de. Per -di-ta.
A'-ri-el. Ger-ard' de Nar-bon'. Per'-i-clés.
Ar-vir -a-gus. Gon'-e-ril. Pe-tru'- chi-o.
Bal-tha-sar' . Gon-zä'-go. Pi-sä'-ni-o.
Ban -quo (Bankwo ). Gon-zä'-lo . Po-lix'-e-neş.
Bas-sä '-ni-o . Grä-ti-ä'-no ( Grä-shi-ä'- Pol'-y-do-re.
Be'-a-trice. no). Post'-hu-mus.
Bel-lä/-ri-o . Gui-de'-ri-us (Gwi-de'- Pros'-pe-ro.
Ben'-e-dick . ri-us ). Pro' -te-us.
Bi-an'-ca. Hel'-e-na. Ri-al'-to.
Bo-rä'- chi-o. Her'-mi-a. Ros'-a-lind .
Cad'-wal. Her-mi'-o-ne. Rou-sil-lon' (Roo'-se'-
Cal'-i-ban. Iach '-i-mo ( Yakʼ-i-mo). yon').
Ca-mil'-lo. I-ä'-go (E-ä'-go). Se-bas'-tian.
Cap'-u-let. Im'-o-gen. Si-mon'-i-des.
Ce-sä'-ri-o. La-er'-teş. Syc'-o-rax.
Clau'-di-o . La-feu'. Tha-i'-sa (Tha-e'-sa ).
Cle-om'-e-nes. Le-o-nä'-to. Thu'-ri-o.
Cym'-be-line. Le-on'-teş. Tyb'-alt.
De-me'-tri-us. Lu-cet'-ta. Ur'-su-la.
Des'-de-mo'-na. Lu-ci-ä '-nus. Val'-en-tine.
Di-o-nys'-i-a. Ly-chor'-i-da. Ven-tid'-i-us,
Dor'-i-clēş. Ly-sim'-a- ehus. Vi'-o-la.
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